expression that solidified on Noc’s face as he skewered Calem with his gaze. Calem stiffened for a moment before sighing and palming the back of his neck. “You’re no fun.”
“Watch yourself.” Noc’s words were low, almost inaudible, and a chill swept down my arms. Distancing myself from Calem, I sank farther into the blankets.
“Yeah, yeah. I called dibs on the top bunk by the way.” He tossed his bag onto one before shouldering past Noc and Kost, reclaiming his tunic along the way. “See you guys in a bit.”
“He’s getting worse.” Kost’s eyes bounced from bed to bed. “Though these arrangements could be better.”
“Take the top bunk. I’ll take the one just below you.”
“All right.”
Leftover tension knotted in Noc’s shoulders, refusing to dissipate. He riffled through his bag without speaking. Slowly, I slipped out of my jacket and peeked inside my duffel. I ran my fingers over an array of tunics and breeches. All clean. All seemingly new. Finer fabric with sturdy thread, but still soft like Poof. Garments like this didn’t make their way to Midnight Jester.
The bits these must have cost. I tied the bag shut, ignoring the errant desire to run to the bathroom and try everything on.
“There’s food downstairs.” Kost hung his trench coat over the wooden railing of the bunk. Neatly pressed, his tailored tunic showed no signs of travel. He rolled up his cuffs, revealing embroidered jacquard print underneath. Every assassin dressed differently, but none as sharply as him. “Shall I get us a table?”
“Do that.” Noc didn’t look up from his bag, and Kost left without another word.
With Noc and I alone in the room, silence stretched on for what felt like hours until he sighed, abandoning his duffel and pinning me to the wall with his gaze. “Calem can be a handful.”
“It’s fine.” Untangling myself from the blankets, I stood and brushed lint off my pants. The space between us didn’t make his stare any less unnerving.
“I suppose I’m not here to tell you what to do with your spare time…” Straightening to his full height, he added, “But keep in mind, you have a job to do.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m capable of saying no. I do it all the time.” Being a Charmer had its downfalls, one of which was attracting less-than-reputable men. Present company included. Noc wasn’t someone I’d bring home to meet the family, but I wasn’t exactly fishing to be brought home to Mother, either. Not when I had my own motives for enticing a murderer. Him, Calem, Ozias—there were options on the table.
Noc studied me without moving closer. His short-sleeved, fitted tunic allowed me to make out the cut of his muscles. So much tension knit tightly beneath that fabric. I doubted I could convince him to strip his tunic without a care like Calem had.
And yet… There was a flash of skin visible just beneath Noc’s collarbone. A hint of his chest.
A glimmer of appealing vulnerability under all that strength.
It hadn’t been that long since my body had been satisfied, but something about Noc made me forget. That he was the enemy, that taking pleasure in his company shouldn’t even be an option. But maybe that’s why he was so appealing. The danger. The risk. There wasn’t any room for attachments.
I bit my lower lip. “I also say yes. On occasion.”
He blinked, visibly surprised. Flustered? It was so hard to tell. “I…see. How bold of you.” He inched a fraction closer, but folded his arms across his chest. Simultaneously showing interest while shutting off the very possibility of the thing my body desired. “Be careful with Calem. The last thing we want is to make this…situation more awkward or uncomfortable than it needs to be.”
He thought I meant Calem. I wasn’t disappointed. I wasn’t.
“I highly doubt that would be a problem. It’d only be awkward if he wanted something more out of me. Because that would never happen.”
“Oh?”
I lifted a shoulder. “He might be fun, but…not really my type.” I couldn’t possibly be more obvious.
“Oh. I see.” Rubbing his jaw, he studied me with wary eyes. Was I really that dangerous to him? The thought was almost laughable, considering how easily he’d almost ended my life. He dropped his arms to his sides and walked to the door, wrenched it open. Paused for a beat, then angled his chin in my direction. “Dinner?”
My heart stutter-stepped in my chest. “Sure.”
“Good.” He pulled away without looking back, heading out and taking the stairs down two at a