He was working, working toward achieving his goal.
Black Fang hadn't noticed any of it. Her world had narrowed to the man beneath her, the man who was still touching her face with one hand while offering to throw away many months of safety margin.
"One month," she repeated.
The words were flat. Measured. Her fingers hadn't loosened.
"One month," Quinlan confirmed, grinning up at her as if she wasn't currently in a position to kill him a hundred different ways.
Her gaze shifted.
It moved off Quinlan's face for the first time since she'd pinned him. It traveled across the courtyard, past the girls, past the companions, and landed on the maids.
Clarisse.
Emily.
The others.
The look Black Fang gave them could have frozen lava. It was a simple look. A calculating one. A look that said, very clearly: 'if he won't give me what I want, they will.'
Emily took a step back. Clarisse didn't, but her knuckles went white around the serving tray she was still holding.
