Chapter 45

Tarn winces as she sews, his hand closing into an involuntary fist by her feet. I don’t like this, not at all—how close she is to him, how his hand flexes open and shut right next to her leg, how her hands hover just inches above his cavernous mouth. She’s practically in his lap, leaning closer with each stitch she puts in his skin as he tries to pull away from her. Maybe I should do this one. “Delia—”

I hear the faint squeal of hinges behind me and turn to find Coby leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching us, watching Tarn, and that puts me at ease. He’ll step in. I won’t have to, thank God,because that is one big-ass regulator and I don’t relish the thought of trying to go against him if he turns on Delia. Even in his present state, there’s no doubt in my mind that he can best me.

I kick at the glass on the floor and try to curb the ire rising in me when Tarn’s hand brushes along Delia’s leg.