[i]Wow, he actually…[/i] Adele’s eyes were wide as she stared at Rook. The line about her safety hadn’t been a demand so much as the culmination of an unvoiced suspicion—she hadn’t believed Rook cared about her. He’d shown interest the night before, but that had grown all too quickly into poorly disguised lust on both their parts. The fact that she hadn’t been able to actually [i]do[/i] it with him in addition to there being other women among the mercenaries who probably would have (or more accurately, [i]could[/i] have) made her suspect that he wouldn’t invest any more attention towards her. For a man like him, there were many, many other women who would be happy to entertain.

Thus, when he gave a response other than, “[i]Just take care of yourself[/i],” she didn’t know what to do. There was no hesitation in his declaration, and his seriousness made it difficult to take as a white lie. Her heart, having been fed on a steady diet of angry adrenaline over the course of the day, puttered to a stop. She felt weak, sick, and bizarrely enough, afraid. Had her refusal to speak of last night turned him off?

“W-wait.” Her hand moved before she gave it permission to, grabbing ahold of his sleeve. She couldn’t meet his gaze, and the cracking of her voice was already so embarrassing it was difficult to continue. “I’m sorry, too. About back there and… last night. This really is my first mission away from the barracks—paranoia is kind of typical for me in an unfamiliar situation. We’ve got a lot to talk about, so for now… I’m just going to follow your lead, okay?”