Bound by Forever - (True Immortality #3) Page 0,78
for a moment while he braced for a verbal assault.
Instead, once more she surprised him.
Her expression softened. “I understand.”
Discombobulated by the sudden tonal change, he raised an eyebrow. “Understand what?”
“What it’s like to be afraid of your own emotions. I don’t want to get too attached to you because I know you aren’t the kind of man someone gets attached to and comes away intact. And you don’t allow yourself to get attached to anyone because you don’t trust anyone.”
Her bold honesty stole his breath.
She glanced away but not before he saw the dark loneliness in her eyes.
“Niamh …” He didn’t know what to say.
What could he say when she was right?
She stared out at the city. “I don’t want to spend the next few weeks or however long we’re here trying to decipher what the hell the vision meant with this horrible tension between us.” She looked back at him now, meeting his gaze with a sudden fierce but cool determination.
“We’re not friends,” Niamh stated emotionlessly. “We’re here to do a job. Let’s be ourselves, not coldly pushing one another away to remind ourselves what we’re not to each other. We get it. Any conversations or relayed history is given for the benefit of the mission and will not be misconstrued as some kind of connection. Let’s just agree to that so we both know where we stand.”
A feeling akin to dread filled his gut.
But she was right.
So he nodded. “Agreed.”
Niamh looked away again but seemed to deflate somewhat, as if the tension was releasing from her body. “Well,” she said, exhaling slowly, “I don’t know about you, but I could eat a bloody horse. That bento box on the plane did nothing to fill me up.”
Agitation still thrummed through him but Kiyo forced another nod. “Yeah, I could eat.”
“Where do you fancy?” She upended the contents of her backpack on the bed. “While you were talking with the guy at reception, I was reading some of their pamphlets. They have a Michelin-starred restaurant in the building. I wonder if they’re open for lunch.”
Kiyo shook his head, suddenly wanting to show her authentic Tokyo. He thought she’d like that. “Do you like sushi?”
Her brows puckered, her lips twisted in thought. “I don’t know,” she eventually answered. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried good sushi before.”
“I’ll take you to Tsukiji Market for brunch.”
“Skeeji market?”
“Tsukiji Market is Tokyo’s most well-known fish market. There are hundreds of food stalls and restaurants. There’s sushi, sashimi, hibachi-grilled fish. There’s okonomiyaki, shioyaki, imagawayaki, tomorokoshi, yakisoba, nikuman—”
“Okay, stop naming food.” She laughed. “I don’t even know what any of it means and you’re still making me hungry.”
Kiyo chuckled, the sound trailing off as Niamh blinked at him in surprise. “What?”
“You laughed.”
“So?” He frowned.
She shrugged, a blush staining her cheeks. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard you laugh before.”
That couldn’t be true.
Could it?
Is that how high his defenses were with her?
Fuck.
Kiyo moved toward the living room. “I’ll let you clean up first. Let me know when I can use the bathroom.” He needed a shower more than he needed food.
“I won’t be long,” she promised.
Niamh kept her promise, appearing in the living room fifteen minutes later having showered and changed into a pair of tight jeans and a cropped T-shirt that showed tantalizing flashes of smooth, pale skin.
“Done.” She strode past him, moving toward the window. As she did, her scent gusted over him and his body reacted with an intensity that shocked him. Feeling the tightening in his groin and heat on his skin, Kiyo gaped at her.
She’d piled her hair on top of her head in what was supposed to be a messy bun but her hair was so long, strands spilled down over her shoulders. There was something about her carefree style that made a man want to pull her hair tie out to see it all come tumbling down.
And he didn’t even want to get started on what the denim jeans did for her ass.
Niamh’s body was hard to ignore, as much as he tried. But she was fae, and from what he knew, part of their genetic makeup was their allure to other species.
“You need a jacket.”
“I’m never cold.”
“People will think it’s weird you’re not wearing a jacket in Tokyo in February.” His eyes lingered on the sliver of skin revealed by the short T-shirt.
Niamh shrugged, leaning against the window without looking at him. “I don’t care what people think.”
Aggravated, he pushed off the sofa, heading toward the bathroom with swiftness. He didn’t