Page 19 of Adversary to the Villain

Shaking his head, he said, almost furiously, “Never.”

Her eyes widened, and she took a step back, pulling her hand to her chest as if his touch had wounded her. “I’m not used to you being so—so—”

“Honest?” he supplied, walking forward in long steps. “I can continue, if you wish?”

As wounded as Sage was, her curiosity far outweighed her grief, her light eyes gleaming at the possibility. “What else have you got?”

Lifting a branch for her, he held her elbow gently, assisting her over a large root, rejoicing at finding another excuse to touch her. And then immediately admonishing himself for his clear desperation. All his feelings were spilling out.

And so did one of his closest-held secrets.

“The real reason I have so many pillows on my bed.”

Sage spun around so fast, she stumbled over the root. He bent to catch her against his chest, and they both fell, Trystan first, soft curves pressed to his abdomen. She was warm, the scent of roses drifting up to assault him, and his body rose to attention. In every manner imaginable.

When she placed her hands on either side of his head, her loose curls formed a curtain around them. He stared at her blandly, determined not to betray his emotions. She might remove herself from her current position.

And then he might die.

“Sage. I was prepared to give the information willingly; you need not tackle me.” His dry delivery sent that lovely disgruntled blush to her cheeks, and dark mist swirled from her fingers, feeling like a cold rush of air against his skin.

“Yes, yes. I canfeelhow much you hate it.” She gifted him her malevolent smirk, and he thought a bruised tailbone was a fair price to pay to see it this close. All too soon, she realized how easily her guard had lowered and scrambled off him. He bit back a groan of deprivation.

Hands still around her waist, he lifted himself up, helping them both to stand. His body ached at the absence when she stepped away. But it was good to know she was similarly affected. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes darkening when she scanned his face and body. “Your, um—pillows?”

“My what?” he asked dazedly. Then, shaking his head back to reality: “Oh yes. It’s nothing of great import, but I thought you’d enjoy the knowledge that the volume of pillows increases every time I have a dream about you.”

The well was in sight, and Trystan was surprisingly relieved to have shared such a closely held truth with the one person he trusted with all of himself.

The sound of her boots against the twigs on the ground ceased, and when he turned his head, her mouth was opening and closing, both hands coming up to hold her cheeks. “You’re saying…”

“I outgrew the need from childhood long ago. As an adult, I was only in possession of two, until two became three and three became four and so on.”

Sage looked a bit aghast, like this whole interaction was sending her into a fit of disbelief.

It was wildly entertaining.

“What…” She took a breath, swiping the air like she could rid herself of the knowledge. “What in the world did you think buying so many pillows would do?”

Trystan shrugged. “Stop the dreams. And if that didn’t work, accidental suffocation seemed a welcome alternative.”

“Oh my gods!” She scoffed, stalking past him in the wrong direction, her dark magic—still so out of control, so new—coming out to greet her. “Insinuating you’d rather suffocate accidentally than dream of me is hardly complimentary, you know.” She finished on a strangled laugh that gave him a hint as to her discomfort.

He looked up in contemplation, nodding, his mouth in a flat line. “Put in those terms, I suppose it isn’t. But you asked for honesty.” As her magic now started to swirl around him, he smiled inwardly. He understood why Sage found it so entertaining to poke at him.

He wanted to unravel her.

Her chest moved with frustration, that intoxicating darkness behind her pupils fading away when she realized she’d willed her magic toward him. A gasp left her red lips. “Honesty. Not telling me something that will send me into hysteria.”

His lip curled up as he looked at her with tender amusement. “You’re extraordinary. How’s that?”

She stared at him, lashes fluttering, mouth open, but no words came. He’d stumped her.

All it took was a well-earned compliment.

This was fun.

“The well,” she blurted nervously, spinning toward it. “Shall we?”