It was taking a lot of her strength not to shiver before him, her hands still at the sides of her gown, watching his eyes travel down her body and finally up to her face. And to her surprise, a little sick smile tugged at his lips, brightening his tired face.
His other hand rose and caressed her hair, a strand trailing down his hands as he returned it to his side. "We are even now," he said lightly, almost happily, making her grow confused.
She could feel her rage seeping in, and it was all she could do not to cry it out in front of him. She was disappointed and frustrated. She was this close. How could he do this to her?
How could he think they were even because she had shot him? A hundred of his life could not make up for everything he did to her.
She opened her mouth when he quickly raised his fingers to his lips. "Hey," he whispered, "not one word; your luck might run out."
She looked away from him, defiance on her countenance, her ears itching as she heard him chuckle away. He hel
