Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(17)

A part of her had hoped that Uilleam would be walking in behind him, her gaze skirting past him to the dark hallway.

“Looking for someone?” he asked.

“Is the Kingmaker coming back?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Most aren’t keen on remaining in Uilleam’s company. Is there something you need?”

It wasn’t that she needed anything in particular, but rather that she was a bit nervous about being alone with him though she had no reason to be.

She would have asked if she could just skip whatever dinner he was having and retreat back to her room, but her stomach chose that moment to growl louder than she had ever heard it before.

“Come,” he said with his arm outstretched, but just before his fingers could come in contact with her skin, he looked down at her and asked, “May I?”

She hadn’t forgotten the way she jerked away from him earlier in the hallway, or his apology after.

And now he was asking permission to touch her again …

Such an innocent thing, but it meant more to her than she could ever put into words.

Giving the slightest of nods, she waited for the moment she felt his touch, just the slightest pressure on her back before she started toward the table and away from the spot she’d been standing in for the longest time.

He pulled her chair out, pushing it forward once she was seated, then circled to take his own seat at the head of the table where the place setting was waiting.

It shouldn’t have been anything difficult, sitting at a table to eat like a normal person, but she almost felt clumsy as she adjusted in the chair.

Over the last few years, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate at a table as opposed to on the floor. Sitting there, she felt out of place, like she didn’t belong.

“Have you any allergies?” Kit asked, resting his elbows on the table. “Best I know now lest I kill you by mistake.” When she winced, he amended, “Poor choice of words.”

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” she answered, voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t understand what it was about him that made her more wary of his presence than Uilleam’s, especially with their relation, but she felt on edge around him.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since they sat down that the doors leading into the kitchen were pushed open, a staff of two coming through them carrying domed trays.

Lobster Caesar salad, a basket of rolls, amongst other things were presented, but Luna didn’t think she had the stomach for any of it anymore.

It was the lobster, the smell of it. She could remember all too well why she hated the aroma.

Lawrence liked to toy with her every few days, bringing in the dish every chance he could.

Sometimes, she had been able to hear the heavy waves crashing against the shore, making her think they were close to the ocean—it would also explain all the seafood he ate.

So many nights, he would come into her room with plates of food, forcing her to kneel on the floor next to his feet as he ate his meal, but not before he made it a point to show her exactly what she was missing. He would spear some of it, holding it beneath her nose to make her hunger grow, and only when she begged did he finally eat without giving her any, laughing at her weakness.

No, she really hated the smell of lobster.

Kit’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Is something wrong?”

Though the smell of it was making her mouth water with the urge to vomit, Luna shook her head, forcing a smile.

She was supposed to be grateful, that was what Lawrence had always told her.

Kit didn’t leave it at that. “Better to tell an unkind truth than to tell a lie.”

That was easy to say, but she had seen the consequences of unwanted opinions. “I’m fine.”

He looked like he wanted to argue further, but he remained silent, not speaking again until their plates were placed in front of them. “How well do you know Uilleam?”

“Not very well.”

Kit looked skeptical. “But well enough that he told you his name.”

Luna didn’t realize her mistake until then, but she didn’t get the chance to correct herself before he went on.

“Have you crossed paths with him before?”

She shook her head.

“Are you sure you just don’t remember him?”

Luna shook her head again. “I don’t think I would have forgotten him.”

Kit’s lips thinned. “No? Why’s that?”

She couldn’t say why that question rankled her. “Because I haven’t forgotten any of them. I’ve never seen him before today.” Or yesterday … she wasn’t sure what day it was.

“That, I believe.”

Luna looked at him, not understanding his change of response.

Kit explained, “Lying, you’re terrible at it. When I asked if you were fine, you clenched your hand, but when I asked if you knew Uilleam, you didn’t tense. Learn to break that habit.”

He’d barely finished that statement before she was ducking her hands beneath the table. It was unnerving, the way he watched her—studied her. She couldn’t understand for the life of her what he was seeing that made him stare for so long.

Luna’s gaze flickered over to Aidra, where the woman was now seated in a chair across the room, a tablet in her hands as she scanned something.