Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) by Lindsay J Pryor Read Free Book Online

be around, his smile appeasing to the point she couldn’t tell who was playing whom in the end.
    But what the hell he was doing playing with Pummel at all was more forefront in her mind as she remained consumed by the anxious irritation that stilted her breathing and maintained the tense knot in the pit of her stomach. He’d ignored her advice. He’d made a mockery of her threat. And if Pummel decided to take an about-turn, their dark secret would be out – because there would be no other reason for Eden’s ability to take so long to die, let alone heal so quickly, other than from what was still in his system.
    Then it would be over for him.
    And any semblance of freedom she had left would be gone.
    Ever since he’d walked in there, he’d been counting on her keeping her mouth shut. With every minute that passed, he knew it was becoming harder and harder for her to do anything to the contrary. He was silently cornering her – right under Pummel’s nose.
    Clearly he either he had his sights set on working for Pummel and had no intention of being thrown off track or he had worked out what she had done for him and he was back for more. Neither option endeared him to her any more than his arrogance to reappear had. An arrogance she was fuelling by cowering in her chair at a safe distance.
    There was only one way she was going to get him to rethink and that was by securing some doubt in him about her intentions. She’d see how much of that calm and collected exterior he’d maintain amidst the threat of possible disclosure at any point – maybe even create enough tension in him to make him break for air, subsequently giving her the opportunity to get him alone again.
    And this time she’d be sure he’d take her seriously.
    As usual, no one took any notice as she crossed the room to join them, as she perched on one of the low-backed bar stools lining the wall on the far side of the pool table, her back to the shelf of drinks. The others’ indifference to her presence was routine, but even Eden didn’t acknowledge her at first – something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Pummel.
    When he finally had the sense to at least look in her direction, instead of it ruffling Pummel, it only seemed to appease him as Eden did so swiftly and nonchalantly.
    Whether a part of his game-playing or genuine disregard, she couldn’t be sure, but a fragment of disappointment scraped through her.
    ‘Just so you’re clear, she’s out of bounds,’ Pummel said, as Eden moved around to her side of the table.
    Eden glanced across his shoulder at her as he leaned over to take his next shot, but still avoided eye contact. ‘Ringlets?’ he asked, glancing back at Pummel whilst lining up his cue. ‘She’s not my type.’
    Uttered with a heavy dose of sincerity, it was a metaphoric stab to her chest. Worse, far from being perturbed by her joining them, he took his shot without hesitation, smoothly pocketing another ball and finally winning the game. His aloofness caused a stirring deep in her gut, not helped by his proficiency.
    ‘Do you want to break this time?’ Eden asked Pummel, releasing the balls from their entombment as he instantly diverted the topic of conversation.
    Seemingly, for now, Pummel was appeased. She knew she should have at least been grateful for that, but her unease was about far more than the threat of Pummel discovering what she had done. The knot in her stomach, the quickened pace of her otherwise naturally slow heartbeat as she watched Eden play, weren’t solely triggered by anxiety.
    He played the second game as easily as he played the first, the cue naturally smooth in his hands, his precision impressive amidst carefully measured control and pressure.
    Jessie lingered over the strength in his shoulders, the way his T-shirt pulled tight over his chest as he took each shot. His taut, flat stomach remained that way even as he leaned over the table, exacerbating the strength in his parted thighs, the curve of his