stood up anyway, because she needed the space—physically and emotionally. "Thank you."
His wary look sharpened. "For keeping my promise, or for the fuck?"
For both, sugar. That was the Stone answer, sharp and cutting, pain delivered for pain received. But she'd brought this hurt on herself, and what was the point of her damn life if she couldn't live beyond where she'd come from?
"For the reminder," she said instead, pulling the curtain back. It helped dispel the illusion, bringing the gritty reality of her sad little apartment into their fantasy world. "It's easy to forget that promises can mean something."
The bed creaked, and she heard the rustle of clothing being righted. "I'll always be straight with you. You may not like it much when I am, but it'll be there."
Another promise. Maybe he handed them out like candy. Maybe he wandered the sector, being everyone's hero. Strong and honest and telling it like it is. What a luxury it must be, to have enough power to be honest and keep promises.
She'd have to settle for not breaking any. So she didn't offer to always be straight with him. She couldn't.
She already knew she couldn't do this again.
And if she told him now, her resolve would falter. It wouldn't take much. A touch, a kiss. A promise—he had so many of them, one to soothe every fear and worry in her heart. So she'd tell him later, away from her bed. After she'd forgotten the feel of him moving above her, against her, inside her.
That was another thing Stones were good at. Avoiding a fight like a fucking coward.
Chapter Five
When Dallas was helping out with physical therapy, he didn't bother with things like bags and shadowboxing. He strapped on his battered gloves and fully expected Zan to hit him in the fucking face.
Zan ducked a quick left and wove around to the other side of their makeshift ring. "Things may not be as simple as we thought."
"They never are." Dallas was still going easy on him, giving him a chance to warm up, but that wouldn't last much longer. Dallas's next swing was too swift to duck, forcing Zan to block with his injured side. His stiff muscles screamed, and Dallas edged back to give him time to recover.
No, they never were—especially when it came to women. Tatiana had damn near melted into him, but it didn't take a genius to understand the look on her face afterwards. A one-time thing, no matter what she'd said about being down for a quiet, discreet affair.
Irritated, he took his own jab at Dallas. "I screwed up. Maybe."
Dallas knocked his arm aside hard enough to rattle bone. "Yeah? Did you screw her ?"
"What do you think?" he snapped.
Dallas lifted an eyebrow, but his gaze was serious—and sympathetic. "So where'd it go wrong—in bed, or after?"
After. Definitely after. Zan wasn't a smug man, overly impressed with his own game, but he knew when a woman got off. And Tatiana got off on him. Hard. "She's scared. Who wouldn't be?"
"Only an idiot." Dallas's next swing was lazy, slow, but it wasn't a ploy. His leader had fallen deep into thought, his body moving solely on instinct. "You've been watching the crafters for years. How bad is it? How much will we lose if we have to wipe Wallace's supporters out?"
"The goods? Not much. He doesn't have as many of the crafters solidly behind him as he wants everyone to think." Zan pulled back, just a little. Drawing the other man in toward his center. "The real problem is bigger. You wipe those guys out, and you start to look a lot more like Stone than before."
"And then everyone can hate me." Dallas blew out a frustrated breath. "Tatiana can put a stop to it, but only while they're still running on grumbles and nostalgia. If this picks up too much steam, we'll have to risk a little hate. So what's her price? The sister?"
"She says so." But that would be too easy.
Dallas struck without warning, a left hook that might have knocked a smaller man clear off his feet. Zan dodged the blow—barely. "So what's her real price?"
"I
His wary look sharpened. "For keeping my promise, or for the fuck?"
For both, sugar. That was the Stone answer, sharp and cutting, pain delivered for pain received. But she'd brought this hurt on herself, and what was the point of her damn life if she couldn't live beyond where she'd come from?
"For the reminder," she said instead, pulling the curtain back. It helped dispel the illusion, bringing the gritty reality of her sad little apartment into their fantasy world. "It's easy to forget that promises can mean something."
The bed creaked, and she heard the rustle of clothing being righted. "I'll always be straight with you. You may not like it much when I am, but it'll be there."
Another promise. Maybe he handed them out like candy. Maybe he wandered the sector, being everyone's hero. Strong and honest and telling it like it is. What a luxury it must be, to have enough power to be honest and keep promises.
She'd have to settle for not breaking any. So she didn't offer to always be straight with him. She couldn't.
She already knew she couldn't do this again.
And if she told him now, her resolve would falter. It wouldn't take much. A touch, a kiss. A promise—he had so many of them, one to soothe every fear and worry in her heart. So she'd tell him later, away from her bed. After she'd forgotten the feel of him moving above her, against her, inside her.
That was another thing Stones were good at. Avoiding a fight like a fucking coward.
Chapter Five
When Dallas was helping out with physical therapy, he didn't bother with things like bags and shadowboxing. He strapped on his battered gloves and fully expected Zan to hit him in the fucking face.
Zan ducked a quick left and wove around to the other side of their makeshift ring. "Things may not be as simple as we thought."
"They never are." Dallas was still going easy on him, giving him a chance to warm up, but that wouldn't last much longer. Dallas's next swing was too swift to duck, forcing Zan to block with his injured side. His stiff muscles screamed, and Dallas edged back to give him time to recover.
No, they never were—especially when it came to women. Tatiana had damn near melted into him, but it didn't take a genius to understand the look on her face afterwards. A one-time thing, no matter what she'd said about being down for a quiet, discreet affair.
Irritated, he took his own jab at Dallas. "I screwed up. Maybe."
Dallas knocked his arm aside hard enough to rattle bone. "Yeah? Did you screw her ?"
"What do you think?" he snapped.
Dallas lifted an eyebrow, but his gaze was serious—and sympathetic. "So where'd it go wrong—in bed, or after?"
After. Definitely after. Zan wasn't a smug man, overly impressed with his own game, but he knew when a woman got off. And Tatiana got off on him. Hard. "She's scared. Who wouldn't be?"
"Only an idiot." Dallas's next swing was lazy, slow, but it wasn't a ploy. His leader had fallen deep into thought, his body moving solely on instinct. "You've been watching the crafters for years. How bad is it? How much will we lose if we have to wipe Wallace's supporters out?"
"The goods? Not much. He doesn't have as many of the crafters solidly behind him as he wants everyone to think." Zan pulled back, just a little. Drawing the other man in toward his center. "The real problem is bigger. You wipe those guys out, and you start to look a lot more like Stone than before."
"And then everyone can hate me." Dallas blew out a frustrated breath. "Tatiana can put a stop to it, but only while they're still running on grumbles and nostalgia. If this picks up too much steam, we'll have to risk a little hate. So what's her price? The sister?"
"She says so." But that would be too easy.
Dallas struck without warning, a left hook that might have knocked a smaller man clear off his feet. Zan dodged the blow—barely. "So what's her real price?"
"I
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