A soft sound, like a footstep, came from the other side of the door. Rosa held her breath, stared wide-eyed at the metal door. It started to open, and her eyes widened until they burned with the need to blink. The man came through the door. He looked around then found her hiding spot behind the door. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened along with the frown on his lips.

“Are you well?”

Her heart drummed hard at the sound of his voice. It was deep but had an accent to it, almost Irish sounding.

She nodded at his question and hoped that the answer might be good enough for him. Maybe he'd just turn and leave.

He gave her a curious look then motioned back to the hallway. “Were you running from me?”

She gulped and found it strange that he thought someone running from him was odd. The man was big. “Si.” She nodded quickly to prove her point.

Though he wasn't standing close to her, he took a step back as if to give her room. “Why?”

She licked her dry lips, and standing this close to him, really got to take in just how big he was. She was no short woman, though she wasn't particularly tall either, yet he towered over her, had to be at least 6'5”. Yet it wasn't necessarily the height that had sent her running, but the packs of muscles he carried and the edge of violence that seemed to be barely contained in his body. His shoulders, arms, chest, and legs were huge and filled out the black clothes he wore. He had the body of a man who spent hours working his muscles to perfection.

Her senses chose that moment to speak up. As if another voice was in her head, she closed her eyes and listened to its advice. She still would have run if the man wasn't so big. Then what was it about him? “You're big,” she whispered.

His lips pulled into a frown as he looked down at his chest as if seeing himself for the first time. “I'm sorry...what?”

Knowing how stupid she sounded, she shook her head. “Just tell me what you want.” She crossed her arms. This dress was made tailored to her with sleeves that billowed around her wrists. While it looked pretty, she really had it made because sewn into each sleeve was a small pouch with a dagger, very light-weight and easy to use in it. She crossed her arms into her sleeves until she touched the metal.

He lifted a packet of papers in his hand. “Telal has a job for you. I'm his personal guard, Kearnyn.” He held out his hand to shake but she could only stare at the big paw.

Pretending to ignore his outstretched bear hand, she looked at his face instead. He had dark hair with natural streaks of red and green eyes that matched perfectly. His skin was much lighter than her own, but what she found the most distraction was his entire face. He was incredibly good-looking with high cheek bones, a square jaw, aristocratic straight nose and neat even ears.

“You're staring,” he said quietly in that deep voice.

Rosa felt her cheeks burn as she look down at the floor. “I thought I saw dirt on your face. Sorry,” she mumbled. “You said something about papers?”

He gave her a hard look that she couldn't read. “Telal has been given a job to manufacture enspelled weapons. He'd like to know if you'd be interested in assisting him, for a share of the profits of course.”

She swallowed hard and took the papers from his outstretched hand. What she'd tried to do was gently take them from him as if she was calm inside, but instead she snatched them, crinkling several of the pages in her fist.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. She quickly glanced over the pages seeing the sketchings and specs of the weapons and the kind of enchantment required. “How many do you want me to make?”

“Telal says that if you agree to split the work he'll share half the profits. That's 5,000 Weapons.”

Her stomach fluttered at his deep, rolling voice. “Sure, I'll do it.” She didn't even think about the answer, just gave the one she knew would make him leave the fastest.

He nodded and pulled a pen out of his back pocket. “Sign the line on the last page, Ms. Medina.”

She took the pen with shaking fingers and scribbled her signature where he indicated. “Just call me Rosa,” she said, handing the papers back to him.

He looked at her with a watchful expression that made her feel as though she were the center of his attention. It unnerved the hell out of her.

“Rosa, I look forward to seeing you again.” He held her gaze for a moment, then turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.

Only after he left could she breathe normally again. Before he had a chance to come back, even though she didn't know if he would, she closed her eyes and chanted her porting spell. When she finished, she was back in her shop, but her encounter with the big man still lingered with her.

Telal sat at the head of the conference table writing furiously in a small leather-bound notebook. Kearnyn stood several feet behind him, a man whose size alone probably deterred attacks on his master.

Lily took a seat on the table, her thigh brushing against the papers he had out. His hand stilled then he slowly lifted his head to glare at her.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for a lift.” He probably didn't realize it, or at least wouldn't admit it, but the meeting had been hard on him. The lines in his forehead were more pronounced, the grip on his pen looked like he was trying to strangle it.

“Go home with Rosa. I'm busy.” He looked back down, his hand scribbling across the page in a heavy-inked slanted scrawl.

“She already left. Sorry but it looks like I'll be hitching with you.”

He let out a stream of demonish that sounded a lot like he was cursing her and her entire family—and he probably was. Lily barely controlled her grin.

“Will you please stop kicking your legs like that?”

Lily glanced at her swinging legs over the ledge of the table and shrugged. “For you? Sure.” She stilled her legs, but it was like asking a child to stop squirming when he had an itch, and instead her bare feet started bouncing. His eyes swung to them.

“You are still not wearing shoes.” He said it slowly as if he couldn't believe it. Really, he was surprised, she thought?

“I haven't exactly had the chance to go shopping yet. It was slightly more important to make a remedy for my pain first. It's on my list of things-to-do though. What, do my pink toes frighten you?”

He stood and started shoving documents and his journal into his briefcase. “I can say, Ms. Bellum that is the first non-foolish thing you've done.”

Not feeling insulted in the least, she smiled at him. Then in a smooth move, she balanced her foot between his legs on the chair behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling them close together. His eyes widened in surprise then strayed to her mouth. Her heart skipped an unsteady beat, her stomach tightening as breathing became difficult. But the look lasted barely a moment before his eyes turned to a glare. He looked at her as if she was nothing more than an insect he'd rather squash. Probably true, too.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

His eyes fell once more to her lips and she wet them with the tip of her tongue. How many times had she thought about his kiss? How many times had she dreamt of him kissing her? The answer was a lot. In fact, so many times that what were dreams and what were visions had become skewered together, blurring, until she didn't know which was what.

He looked her straight in the eyes and it was like the earth stood still. Particles, molecules, and dust around them paused as he looked at her not with contempt or disdain but something entirely different, something almost pleasant. He looked at her as a man might a woman he could be interested in, the look a man gave right before he bought a woman a drink at a bar. Warm, the look was warm, welcoming.