10. ~Sebastian~

I listened from the door of the den as Caleb was doing that weird-ass meditating slash therapy shit of his with Skylar.

It was their third time now.

The other two times he'd found strategic ways to make sure I wasn't around and that I was out of the house. I knew Cas had been in on it too, because one of those ways had been Cas suddenly inviting me over for a long overdue catchup that had included us resuming the chess game we'd had going for months now, then shooting pool. And the most obvious giveaway of all was the fact that while I'd been over at King Manor, Caspian hadn't brought up Skylar at all and, especially not my interactions with her. It had been enough for me to realize that he'd been playing a game with me. Just trying to keep me there.

They were worried about my reactions to her.

It hadn't exactly helped when word had gotten back to Caleb—from Damien, no doubt, as retaliation for my don't fucking test me line in that café—about my interaction with Skylar that day. Apparently, Damien had been watching from the shadows long after I'd thought he'd walked out, so he'd seen me get up close and intense. I'd been so caught up in her that I hadn't noticed like I normally would have. I was very aware of my surroundings at all times, I'd had to be with being forced into the spotlight at such an early age.

But Skylar fucking Bennett had some inexplicable way of making all of that fall away, of smashing that mask I usually wore so well to pieces. I'd let her see beneath that carefully crafted image several times now. And although she was still lying to herself and claiming she didn't like it, that she hated me, she'd fallen apart for me twice now when she'd been in its company. She'd fucking well wanted me—the raw and real me.

But there was a fine line between wanting and needing somebody, and that woman hated thinking she needed anyone and anything beyond herself.

But cracks were appearing.

For one, we'd had an actual amicable conversation—until Damien had shown up and sparked that possessiveness she'd awakened in me the other night.

And now she was also letting Caleb in, as she'd dropped her guard—somewhat—and agreed to allow him to teach her about these blocks he put in place to control his own inner beast.

I heard a chuckle and peered around the door to see them both laughing their heads off. My fingers tightened around the doorframe as I then watched her throw her arms around him, hugging him to her and thanking him for being such a patient and perfect teacher.

"I've never met anybody like me who struggles with this kind of thing," she said, as they pulled apart.

Not all the way, though, and her hands came up and cupped his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks and making his eyes flutter closed for a couple of moments at the sweet softness of it. That was how Caspian touched him—outside of their fuck sessions, anyway.

"Well, it's actually nice to have somebody else to teach this to," he told her.

She smiled and eased her hands down, but they were still sitting knee-to-knee in their cross-legged positioning. Her nose twitched. "Is that scent of yours apple?"

"Apple cinnamon."

"It's nice."

He chuckled. "Thank you."

An intense moment passed between them—attraction, for sure—before Skylar blinked out of it, then shifted her weight and asked him, "So you recognized that was what was happening to me during that fight?"

"I did."

"Why didn't you intervene instead of Sebastian?"

"You didn't have a connection to me then. It was doubtful you would've taken me at my word when you were in that state. You needed somebody who you had some trust in."

"Trust. Yeah, maybe there was some of that there with him. Even in spite of his demented side somehow."

That fucker chuckled at that. "That's his wall."

"Wall? Like a defense?"

"That's right. If anyone manages to get past the robot, or if he slips for some reason, he's got that there as an extra layer."

She frowned for a moment. "Is it because of his father? Losing him, I mean? Is that why he's felt the need to do that? To shut down?"

"It stems from losing Wayne, yeah. While Damien is a definite Mommy's boy, Bastian was really close with his dad. Losing him took him down a really bad road, it fucked up a lot for him. For Bastian to stop himself from slipping back into all the shit that he delved deep into, he believes the only way is to remain shut down."

"That's unbelievably sad."

"Thinking about it now, it's likely he was picking the same thing up from you, likely where his intensity toward you first came from. Probably made it even more intense when he felt that freer side of you too, something he can't allow himself to be."

"You're saying everything about me is a major mind-fuck to him?"

"I'm saying that the robot is becoming sentient."

"What does—"

"There have been cracks, his mask slipping. With you."

Son of a bitch.

I gritted my teeth, the urge to barge on in there and make sure they knew that was all bullshit.

That it wasn't the case.

That it wasn't real.

That it… couldn't be.

I couldn't… I couldn't let it.

She was just a new variable thrown into the equation, complicating it.

Just until I sorted it out, just until things settled.

Fuck.

I turned away and strode out of the mansion.

I needed to get my head on straight.

All misses.

Fucking misses!

Me.

I didn't miss.

I just didn't.

But there it was, the undeniable proof right here as I stared at the wooden targets in the distance and all my throwing knives missing the mark in every single one.

Sure, I'd still hit the actual two-by-fours, but I hadn't hit dead on, which was a big deal for me.

"So, this is how you spend your downtime, huh?"

I jolted, so caught up in this unlikely turn of events—just like so much lately, it seemed—that I hadn't even felt the fucking approach.

That sultry voice—or maybe I was just interpreting it that way—rolled through me and had my cock jerking in my jeans just like that.

Reacting from the sound of her voice now? Really?

I sucked in a breath and turned around.

And she stepped back right away.

"What's wrong?"

She gestured to my right hand.

I looked to see that I was spinning one of my throwing knives around in a rather threatening manner. Coupled with the pissed look I was sure I was wearing on my face, given my mood that I just couldn't seem to get a handle on for the first time in a hell of a long time, I probably looked like I was going in for the kill or something.

"Is that how you intend to settle things between us?"

"No," I said, sliding the knife into the holster strapped to my leg. "I just had it primed, that's all."

I could see her inclination to ask more in a bid to figure out how I was gonna settle things. But she didn't speak to it, deciding against it for some reason.

She folded her arms across her chest, inadvertently pushing her succulent breasts front and center in the black lacy tank she had on, the thing sheer up the sides and giving the glimpse of a vibrant-blue bra beneath when she moved slightly and that blue leather jacket of hers shifted. She had a pair of motocross pants on this time and they were basically the inverse of the jacket, black with embellishments like the jacket, matching the blue, with a little silver thrown in too. Her hair was in a half-up, half-down style, loose curls cascading about her pretty face.

"You and blue… it's really a thing, isn't it?" I commented idly.

"How about you with that Lexus?"

"It's Nightfall Mica." I shrugged. "I just wanted the opposite of my brother's ride."

"Hmm, well blue versus red, yeah, that counts as opposite. It works for you too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The car stands out, but not in an obnoxious or overly flashy way. Like it knows how good it is without needing to prove it. Confidence versus arrogance, really."

"Are you complimenting me through my car?"

"Actually, pointing out the difference between you and your brother, the way I see the two of you anyway."

"Trying to escape the punishment I owe you, is that it?"

"You're being paranoid." Her gaze flitted past me and I looked to see her studying the targets in the distance.

"You're pretty good."

"Usually I'm incredibly good."

"Off your game today then?" she teased.

I started. Teasing. She was teasing me, being playful, that usual animosity nowhere to be found. And the weird compliments too.

Maybe it was just the effects of Caleb's session, the result of that temporary peaceful haze he was always enveloped in for a little while afterward.

Before I could analyze it further, she held out her hand and said, "Pass me the blade. I want a try."

I slid it from its sheath and handed it to her.

She grinned at me as she started spinning it in her hand with some major skill that even rivalled mine, and I'd been doing this for several years now.

"Do you come out here a lot to do this?" she asked as she stepped up to the fence where I'd been throwing from.

"When I need to clear my head, or take a break from problem-solving something. Stepping away can give you perspective and this helps to clear all the rest out."

"What were you trying to problem-solve today then?"

"The weirdness of you being here in the mansion."

"Weirdness? That's not very nice."

"I'm not nice."

The corner of her mouth turned up.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, you do have a harsh edge, don't get me wrong. You can be a real bastard. But you've had some almost-nice moments that I've witnessed too."

"Almost-nice, huh?"

"That's right. I think you don't want people to know you have a nice side, so you try to tamper it down. And when it does leak out, you overcompensate. Like that night in the fight club bathroom."

"You mean, when I fucked you like an animal. Yeah, that sounds really nice."

"You also tried to comfort me."

I ground my teeth. "Maybe."

"No maybe about it, you did. And when you realized it, that wall went up and it became all about that interaction I had with you brother instead, you determined to make me pay for it."

Before I could get a word out, she tossed the knife.

I watched as it cut through the air with impressive speed, then embedded into the farthest target, driving in strong.

"Aim's a little off."

"Not at all," she said, grinning at the positioning of the blade three quarters of the way down the target. "If it was a human target, that would be right through the balls."

"Damn, that's vicious."

"I know," she said, proudly.

"Got some creative visualization going on there?"

"Definitely."

"You really want to hurt the cock that gave you so much pleasure?"

"Don't flatter yourself—in any respect there."

"So, it's not me then?"

"Nope."

"Who?"

Her features hardened. "It doesn't matter."

"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be having an emotional reaction. I mean, impaling said person in the balls, even imaginary, is a hell of a thing, a definitive and brutal statement at that."

She stepped up to me, her gaze heated with animosity, no doubt. But there was also something akin to arousal there too. I might not be the best with deciphering—or feeling—my own emotions, but I could sure as fuck read them well in others. It was a skill I'd learned well, a necessary defense that had served me well.

It had me smirking, which worked as I wanted when she registered it and it had her moving even closer and getting right up in my space.

"I can replicate that knife through the balls thing if you like. You know, if you keep up this infuriating pushing bullshit of yours and don't read the room as to when to back off."

"Hmm," I said, moving closer until my chest pushed against her soft breasts. "That might be just outside my roughness during fucking tolerance."

Amusement danced in her eyes at my response. "Just outside it?"

"Yeah."

She startled me then as she grasped my belt and jerked me to her. "How about a knee to the dick instead?"

"So many violent threats. Is that your way of admitting that you're into me?"

"You're a fucking psycho."

"Mmm, beautiful, I think you like that about me." I leaned in and brushed my lips over her throat, relishing the little gasp that escaped her. "In fact, it calls to you, doesn't it?"

"Bastian!"

I jolted at the sound of that voice.

It had me pulling back from her with a hiss as I registered the command in it.

She spun around as I looked out to see Caleb standing in the clearing a few feet away, one hand shoved into his jacket, the other holding a cigarette.

He was affecting a casual stance, but the look he fixed me with was anything but.

Fucker.

He was telling me to back off. Closer to ordering, really.

Me?

He was trying to rein me in?

What the hell was happening lately?

I couldn't hold it in check, and then I was snapping, "Problem, Cal?"

"You tell me."

"No problem whatsoever, brother," I ground out. "Just talking. Working on that trust, just like you are with her."

He stared at me for a moment as he dragged on his smoke, clearly trying to see into me.

I locked it down quickly, making damn sure that wasn't a possibility.

He sighed, then told me, "Skylar needs to head home. She just came out here to say goodbye to you. I told her you'd appreciate that, seeing as though the two of you didn't get to interact all the while she's been here."

Had he now?

Bullshit.

He'd sent her out here to test me.

That was why I hadn't been sent away from the house with one distraction or another this time. It had been an experiment to see if my previous apparently worrying reactions and behavior when it came to her had settled and calmed down.

"All right," Skylar said, clearly picking up on the tension. "Well, I'm going to get going."

As she passed by, I spoke low so that Caleb, being the interfering bastard he was right now, didn't overhear, "Better lock your bedroom window, beautiful. Could be a psychopath lurking nearby."

Her breath hitched and she trembled.

Fucking trembled for me.

It was all I could do to keep the grin from my face as she headed over to Cal.

The way she reacted to me… it was like nothing else.

And it was quickly becoming a need in me to elicit that from her.

Just for starters.