wasn’t that bad at all. Just because he was in the guy-friend camp didn’t mean she wasn’t goingto look nice. He was, after all, ridiculously handsome so she’d be slacking if she didn’t at least try to keep up.
Grabbing a towel, she headed through the breezeway toward the pool house. Not that she’d catch up to him in the looks category. He was beautiful. As if he’d just stepped from an issue of GQ for Others. Smooth. Debonair, clever. His clothes were expensive and tailored. They didn’t make his size off the rack anyway, so she supposed tailoring was a necessity.
Not that he was unaware of his appeal. She found it charming. He knew he was hot shit and he worked it. Never to anyone else’s detriment, which is probably why it was charming instead of douchey.
On the other hand, she was sloppy and silly and awash with color. She knew it and was just fine with it. It made her happy and that’s what counted. She’d given up trying to be something she wasn’t a long time ago. She wouldn’t be gorgeous and classy like Helena or Meriel. But she was Lark, one hundred percent, and that was important.
SIMON didn’t know what he expected but he paused at the doorway to just look awhile. To look at Lark with her hair down as she put her towel on a chaise longue.
Tiny, yes. Especially when compared to him. But she had curves she’d only hinted at in her normal daily outfits. In a bikini, this was not anything hinted at. The way the top clung to a spectacularly perfect set of tits didn’t hide a thing. Boy-short bottoms, which he approved of mightily, only accentuated her ass, which was high and tight and round. Longer legs than he’d thought.
She was in shape, which he knew of course having worked out with her a few times. Her job would demand such a thing and she took care of her body like she took care of her weapons.
Tattoos marked her back. Clan runes, he knew. Blue violets scattered from one shoulder to the opposite hip. There were others but she took that moment to turn and smile.
“Wow. Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She said this as if he knew what she meant before she dove in.
He joined her and they did laps for some time until she stopped in the shallow end. “You win. You’re a machine.” She headed to her towel and then settled herself on the chaise.
“I’m not a machine, I’m Lycian.” He grinned and joined her.
“Same thing apparently.”
“Whiner.”
She laughed then. “Totally.”
“You hate to lose don’t you, little pixie?”
“I do. You can’t imagine the sadness this used to bring my mother. She wanted us to be cooperative and nice to each other. She wanted a commune but she so didn’t get that. Instead my sister and I constantly challenged each other. Nothing is too small for us to compete over.”
“I hear that. I’ve got a great many siblings and we’re that way as well.”
“I imagine Lycian parents see this as a good thing.”
“Have to protect the pack. It’s our job. It’s what we were born to do. But they don’t want us to really hurt each other. A little blood won’t kill you though.”
“My mother would say, can’t you two just cheer each other on? Why do you have to fight?”
“Because that’s how you get hard for battle.”
She blinked up at him. “Yes, exactly. My father understands. He’s a hunter after all. But we’re his girls; he hates to see us get so cutthroat.”
“I hear sadness in your voice.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
She settled back and looked up, out through the glass roof covering the pool house.
“Helena and I are ten months apart. We’ve always been close. Oh sure, we fight, we compete, that sort of thing. But I know without a doubt that if I needed her, she’d be there. Half the time I don’t even need to say it, she just knows. She’s my best friend. We grew up with a father who ran the hunter squad for the clan and a mother who reengineers felt into clothing and accessories
Grabbing a towel, she headed through the breezeway toward the pool house. Not that she’d catch up to him in the looks category. He was beautiful. As if he’d just stepped from an issue of GQ for Others. Smooth. Debonair, clever. His clothes were expensive and tailored. They didn’t make his size off the rack anyway, so she supposed tailoring was a necessity.
Not that he was unaware of his appeal. She found it charming. He knew he was hot shit and he worked it. Never to anyone else’s detriment, which is probably why it was charming instead of douchey.
On the other hand, she was sloppy and silly and awash with color. She knew it and was just fine with it. It made her happy and that’s what counted. She’d given up trying to be something she wasn’t a long time ago. She wouldn’t be gorgeous and classy like Helena or Meriel. But she was Lark, one hundred percent, and that was important.
SIMON didn’t know what he expected but he paused at the doorway to just look awhile. To look at Lark with her hair down as she put her towel on a chaise longue.
Tiny, yes. Especially when compared to him. But she had curves she’d only hinted at in her normal daily outfits. In a bikini, this was not anything hinted at. The way the top clung to a spectacularly perfect set of tits didn’t hide a thing. Boy-short bottoms, which he approved of mightily, only accentuated her ass, which was high and tight and round. Longer legs than he’d thought.
She was in shape, which he knew of course having worked out with her a few times. Her job would demand such a thing and she took care of her body like she took care of her weapons.
Tattoos marked her back. Clan runes, he knew. Blue violets scattered from one shoulder to the opposite hip. There were others but she took that moment to turn and smile.
“Wow. Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She said this as if he knew what she meant before she dove in.
He joined her and they did laps for some time until she stopped in the shallow end. “You win. You’re a machine.” She headed to her towel and then settled herself on the chaise.
“I’m not a machine, I’m Lycian.” He grinned and joined her.
“Same thing apparently.”
“Whiner.”
She laughed then. “Totally.”
“You hate to lose don’t you, little pixie?”
“I do. You can’t imagine the sadness this used to bring my mother. She wanted us to be cooperative and nice to each other. She wanted a commune but she so didn’t get that. Instead my sister and I constantly challenged each other. Nothing is too small for us to compete over.”
“I hear that. I’ve got a great many siblings and we’re that way as well.”
“I imagine Lycian parents see this as a good thing.”
“Have to protect the pack. It’s our job. It’s what we were born to do. But they don’t want us to really hurt each other. A little blood won’t kill you though.”
“My mother would say, can’t you two just cheer each other on? Why do you have to fight?”
“Because that’s how you get hard for battle.”
She blinked up at him. “Yes, exactly. My father understands. He’s a hunter after all. But we’re his girls; he hates to see us get so cutthroat.”
“I hear sadness in your voice.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
She settled back and looked up, out through the glass roof covering the pool house.
“Helena and I are ten months apart. We’ve always been close. Oh sure, we fight, we compete, that sort of thing. But I know without a doubt that if I needed her, she’d be there. Half the time I don’t even need to say it, she just knows. She’s my best friend. We grew up with a father who ran the hunter squad for the clan and a mother who reengineers felt into clothing and accessories
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