“You’ve come to help me escape?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you! I know we’ll make a great team!”
Chapter Four
What the hell? Russell stiffened. Why did this woman always misinterpret his actions? Was she being blinded by her eagerness to succeed? No doubt she was desperate to have someone who was on her side, but why couldn’t she understand that it wasn’t him?
He tightened his grip on her. Just a few seconds, he thought, let me hold her for just a few seconds. Her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, her breath warm against his skin. His chest swelled at this proof that she was happy to see him. But she was only happy because she thought he’d come to help her.
Shit. He was going to disappoint her again. And she would probably slap him again. After a quick glance at the open window above them, he teleported to the interior of the room, taking Jia with him.
She stumbled back as she materialized, then glanced about the room with a confused look. “Why are we here?”
“Isn’t this where you live?” He’d noticed the two guards out front before sneaking around to the back and discovering the silk rope stretched taut through the back window.
He pivoted, inspecting the small room. It was surprisingly plain for the home of a princess. There were two chests, one low table, and two square pillows to sit on. The only decoration was a screen across one end of the room, and the only color was the bright red rope she’d tied around a ceiling beam.
“We can’t stay here,” she whispered, casting a nervous glance at the door. The walls were thin, so she was probably afraid the guards would hear. With an excited grin, she grabbed his arm. “Let’s go to your secret hideout!”
He hesitated, aware that his response would wipe the hopeful look off her face. “No.”
Her smile wobbled, then returned full force. “Then we’re going straight to work, investigating Master Han’s campsites?”
“No. I’m not taking you anywhere. I only came to see how you were doing.”
Her hands slipped off his arm, falling limply at her sides as she stumbled back a few steps. Her face went pale, all expression wiped clean. Even the sparkle in her eyes turned dull and lifeless.
Russell’s chest tightened. He might as well have stabbed her. No, this was even worse. As a were-cat, she had nine lives. She would survive a stabbing. What he had done was inflict injury to her soul.
He backed away. “I shouldn’t have come. I’ll go now.”
“Wait.”
When her eyes flashed with anger, he felt a surge of relief. Her fighting spirit was still there.
She stepped toward him, her teeth gritted. “We need to talk.” She lifted her hand, and he caught her by the wrist.
“What . . . ?” She tugged at his grip, but he held fast. “Why—”
“You were going to slap me.”
She snorted. “I said talk. But I think I like your idea better.” She pulled her other hand back, and he nabbed that wrist, too. “What—”
He lifted her hands over her head and turned her like they were doing a country-western dance. Then, with her arms crossed, he pulled her back against his chest.
“Let me go!” She struggled to get free, but he held her closer.
“Ssh,” he whispered in her ear. “You don’t want the guards to hear.”
“Maybe I should call them in to beat the tar out of you.”
“I would just teleport away.”
“Coward.”
He drew in a hissing breath. “Princess.”
“Don’t call me princess.”
“Don’t call me coward.”