The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,36

before through some of my other studies, but his history, his recount of death and the magic he brought back with him…” He waved his hand around for emphasis before offering me a grin. “Words escape me.”

“How infrequent that must be.”

He laughed, a deep, pleasing sound that stirred up an odd feeling in my gut. “Was that a joke? How infrequent are those for you?”

“Very.”

“Shame.” His grin was downright devilish. With deliberate slowness, he abandoned his place behind his chair and walked toward me, parking his hip on the table just a few feet away. “I bet you’re actually quite funny.”

With a quiet scoff, I shook my head. “Don’t be absurd. In my entire long life, there’s only been one person who ever referred to me as ‘funny.’ He considered himself quite droll, and thus an expert on the matter.” I tilted my head, the bittersweet memory reflected in my tone. “Though to be honest, his dry wit got him in trouble more often than not. It didn’t help that he made it a point to badger drunk hotheads.”

He trailed his fingers along his jaw, smile still intact. “You sound fond of this mystery man. Who was he?”

Shock rendered me immobile. Had I really said that out loud? His damn Charmer’s lure must have loosened my tongue. One moment I’d been in total control, and now here I was, revealing facts about a life I had no intention of sharing. Leave it to Gaige to stir up something, someone, I hadn’t thought about in ages.

Not ages. I suppressed a shudder. There was no sense in lying to myself about Jude. There was a perpetual, phantom pang in my chest, one that stemmed from the jagged scar just above my heart. The fatal wound I’d endured to save his life. The ache was dull, but constant. A reminder of something I could never escape, no matter how hard I tried.

Gaige waited, his captivating stare doing peculiar things to my gut. My fingers itched to once again remove my glasses, to polish the lenses and busy myself while I sorted out the strange feeling. There was something about the way his words, though obviously tinged with humor, held a semblance of warmth.

“No one special.” I finally caved, letting only the barest sliver of emotion tinge my words. A small lie. One to keep the conversation going, because I couldn’t bring myself to shut down, not entirely. But certainly not the truth. I wasn’t willing—ready—to share that with anyone. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

“But you won’t tell me who? Maybe I can guess, then. Your tense suggests it’s someone from your past, but your description sounds an awful lot like Calem.”

“Calem finds my actions humorous,” I said, and my back relaxed into the hard wood of the chair. As if I had no choice in the matter. My own body betrayed me, painted a picture of tranquility for Gaige, when all I really wanted was to throw up sky-high walls. “But that’s not the same as thinking I am funny.”

He inched closer. Let his fingers dance along the grains of the table. “Something tells me it isn’t Noc—”

“Definitely not.” My jaw tightened, and I clasped my hands together. Noc. No, there’d never been that sort of ease there. He’d been distant. Cold. Unflinchingly loyal. It was the perfect combination to draw me in. Someone who could never truly love me, and therefore someone who could never hurt me. Someone who could—no, would—never betray me. It’d taken me years to understand why I had been so enticed by Noc, why I’d fallen for him even knowing the ramifications his curse would have if he ever returned my affection. It was a way of coping with the unimaginable pain Jude had caused. Pain that, even now, I refused to face. Falling for Noc was toxic, but it had worked. The memory of Jude had faded ever so slightly, and I had protected myself from suffering the same agony all over again.

A deep hum escaped the back of Gaige’s throat, and he stopped trailing the whorls in the wood. As he leaned back on the palms of his hands, his broad chest stretched and the leather cord lacing up his collar loosened a fraction. The action pulled me from my reverie and chased away some of the brooding emotion—and fine, yes, it made my throat go a little dry too. I narrowed my eyes. Was he aware of his actions? Of the way his lax stance