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“If I release you, will you promise to put your claws back in?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Only if you watch what you say.”
“Then we’re at an impasse because I don’t have to watch what I say.”
“You’re right,” she said. “You do suck at diplomacy.”
“I never claimed otherwise,” he said, his tone rough.
“I don’t have to like what you say. And I don’t. Not at all.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice low. “But I am telling you the truth. I’m not going to wrap the situation up as something else and try to make it more palatable. It is an ugly situation. Nothing about it is simple.” He released his hold on her and stepped back. “But we will survive it. As will Aden. If we do it right, he will thrive. This is about him. Not about us.”
Her heart was thundering in her temples, her head spinning. She put her hand over the place where his fingers had been. Her skin was hot, not to the touch, but beneath the flesh. Inside of her. She’d never felt anything like it before. Didn’t understand how it was possible.
“On that we can agree,” she said, aware, painfully, that she sounded breathless. That she was breathless.
“Then perhaps we can put a halt on the dramatics?”
“When you put a halt to your douche-baggery.”
Dark brows locked together. “What is this word?”
“It means you’re being a jerk. But more than a jerk even,” she said. “Worse.”
“No one talks to me like this,” he said, his tone firm, not imperious. He was simply stating a fact, and she wasn’t all that surprised by it. She didn’t know why she felt empowered to speak to him like that. Maybe it wasn’t empowerment so much as a need to push him away. Anger was safer than the pull she felt toward him. Much safer.
“No one who has any idea of how to act in polite company talks to people the way you do,” she said.
“I spend a lot of time outside of polite company.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Clearly.”
“Our discussion is through.”
“What about dinner?”
“Suddenly, I am thinking I might take it in my room. Or an enemy prison. Either is preferable.”
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