Page 44 of Heartbreak Prince

“No, but any glyphs I may have must be inactive during the process.”

I know I’m being overly inquisitive, but I can’t help it. When I had my glyph sets done, neither artificient wanted to talk during the process. The first probably didn’t like questions because he was a con man, and the second one said she needed silence to concentrate.

I risk asking Vawn one more question. “How many people have you painted?”

“Dozens, scores. I redo my friends’ nails for free all the time. I’ve been asked to craft the most ridiculous glyphs—things that would make you furious.”

“Furious?”

“Yes, because you’re so determined that everything should be logical and proper, without waste or excess.” He holds up one of my travel-sized varnish brushes, inspecting it. “You’re very like the carpet in that way.”

“I can be easygoing too, and fun,” I mutter. “You saw that at the Pink Lycan.”

“Was that you having fun?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I thought it was you facing another assignment, determined to perform it perfectly. You weren’t enjoying yourself—you were doing a job. Passing a test.”

Pursing my lips, I plop onto my bed. “I have to be watchful at all times, ready to act. Especially now that those soldiers are in town.”

“They don’t know we’re here, though,” he counters. “They came for the glyph paint. They’re distracted with the mob and with occupying the Guild, so I think you can take a few hours off to relax. I’ll paint our sets, and then we can order some food and have a drink or two. In fact, you should have one now, to ease your worries.”

It’s foolish, but incredibly tempting. My nerves are a threadbare tapestry, frayed to the point of puncture. Maybe, if I take a little time to relax, I’ll actually be able to sleep tonight, and I’ll wake refreshed tomorrow, better able to make smart decisions and keep both of us safe.

“Knife.” The prince holds out his hand.

“Don’t you have one?”

“It slid from my belt and fell during our erratic flight to this city.”

I draw one of my second favorite daggers. It’s rosy amontite, with both the hilt and the tang formed from the same pinkish metal.

“Pretty thing,” Vawn croons, testing the blade’s edge with his thumb. Then his eyes cut to me, and he smiles. “Pretty and useful.”

I watch him trim the varnish brush into a neat point. He does it deftly, with a casual skill that I find deeply attractive.

Competence has always turned me on. It’s one of the reasons I had so many trysts in the Academy. Even if a guy was an occasional asshole, if he showed proficiency, I could get aroused with him. All I had to do was think of his high place on the test score list or his excellent performance in the combat ring and I was ready to go.

I’m ready now. But fucking a client isn’t something any bodyguard should do.

I leap up, eager for any excuse to walk it off. “I’m going to get that drink.”

The innkeeper is all too happy to sell me a bottle of wine from his cellar. He even throws in a bag of sugared nuts. “For you and your fiancé,” he adds with a wink. For a second I’m confused until I remember the cover story Vawn shared when we first secured the room. He had quite a long chat with the innkeeper through the cloth wrapping over his lower face. I wish he wasn’t quite so chatty with people. I have trouble remembering all the lies he tells them.

After thanking the innkeeper and paying in advance for dinner to be sent up later, I hurry back to the room with the bottle and glasses.

Vawn is sitting on his bed with his left wrist propped on his knee. He has completed the base coat, and he’s already painting a glyph on the middle finger of his left hand. He doesn’t look up when I close the door or when I open the wine. He remains utterly focused on his task, crafting the glyph with precise strokes.

For the tiniest details, he lays aside the brush and employs a thin sliver of wood with a sharp tip. I’m not sure where he got it. Maybe from the windowsill or the underside of the bed frame.

I sip my wine while I watch him finish the glyph. He lifts his hand to his parted lips and blows lightly on his fingertip, right before lifting his eyes to mine.

A wild thrill bolts through my stomach, with an answering flutter between my legs.

I drink more wine. “What glyph is that?”

His smile is pure sin. “Have a look.”

I lean forward, inspecting the glyph. It’s one for orgasmic intensity, pointed outward to benefit his partner, not himself.

I wet my dry lips with another swallow of wine. “I can’t imagine how you plan to use that. You won’t be having a tryst with anyone for quite a while. At least until Anyssir Castle. And even then, I will have to vet your partner.”