Resting his weight more fully against the trunk of the tree, he opted to finish his apple before answering her query.
“You know”—her luminous brown eyes gleamed—“taking itty bitty bites only prolongs the inevitable, but changes nothing in the end.”
Swallowing his final bite, he gave the core a bored glare before chucking it over his shoulder. “And that is?”
“That you’re trying to be one of those masters. It won’t work.” She tossed her half-eaten apple at his chest. “I wasn’t born yesterday, I know when I’m being buttered up.”
Chuckling, he almost clapped at her powers of deduction, but instead opted to finish the rest of her apple. “What won’t work, pet?”
“Pet.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Seriously. Would you just stop? Stop it already. I’m yours—”
“Oh, not nearly, woman. Not nearly.”
Fire raced up her throat, settling in her slashing cheekbones. She gave him a withering stare.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure that I don’t.”
“Are you obtuse on purpose, or is this fun for you?”
Flicking the apple core to the side, he wiped his mouth and then sighed, holding up his hands. “Fine. Yes, of course I know what you’re getting at. But I’ve had time to think about our partnership—”
She snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”
His brows rose. “How else would you put it?”
“Servitude, oh Master mine.” She stared down at her lap as she said it. Her obvious abhorrence of her lot in life humanized her in a way she hadn’t been before.
“You are very unlike what I expected,” he said softly.
She sighed. “Stop trying to be my ‘friend.’ What is it you really want?”
“I want much,” he said unapologetically, “but perhaps for now I simply wish to talk.”
“You wish it”—her lips tipped into a large smile—“do you?”
“Ha.” He held up a finger. “Let’s not be hasty. I’ll have to start minding my words around you. You’re quite devious.”
Mood turning suddenly serious, she nodded. “These are the rules, as I must give them to every master. I cannot kill for you. I cannot make anyone fall in love with you. And I cannot take you back in time.”
“Good thing I have no need of any of that, then.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll be finding out soon enough what it is you do want. You all always tell me in the end.” So saying, she lay back, spreading her arms to either side of her and closed her eyes. A tiny smile graced her full lips.
The creature intrigued him. She’d been pleasant, oddly, even enjoyable to talk with. If there was one thing Robin prided himself on, it was his ability to read a person. To know immediately whether they meant him ill, or could be someone he’d depend on.
Of course, he’d been wrong once before. So wrong, in fact, that it’d cost him almost everything.
She was still, not moving, just breathing deeply, and it was that stillness that entranced him.
“What are you doing?” he finally asked.
“Have you ever been trapped in darkness for so long you thought you’d never feel warmth again?” she asked without opening her eyes.
Unable to resist from touching the tendril of hair that’d slipped across her breast, he answered in a heated whisper, “No.”
The touch of her skin beneath his was electric. Her eyes snapped open then, snaring his own, asking without words what he was doing.
In truth, Robin didn’t honestly know. He pulled his hand back as though it was nothing, as though he’d not felt the shock of her move through all the way through him.
“What did you do to me?” he asked with a voice grown hoarse.
She sucked in a breath, scooting away from him, as if to gain distance between them. Bits of grass stuck out in her hair when she sat up.
Robin curled his fingers into his lap.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered breathlessly.
The genie wasn’t unaffected by him—the thought was strangely satisfying.
“Hm.” He snorted. “I seriously doubt that. You know something.”
She nibbled the corner of her lush lower lip with straight, white teeth, making his gut clench with the need to replace those teeth with his tongue, his mouth.
Her breathing increased and blood flooded her cheeks. The air between them was suddenly fraught with tension, with their mounting need.
He cleared his throat, glancing away, reaching for a safer topic. “Stories abound about me and my men, most of them patently false.”
“Hm. That sounds interesting.” She grinned. “You know all about me, I’m sure.”
“Not really, sweetling, I know very little about you, in fact.”
She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “You know more about me than I do about you. You want to know my story, I want to know who you are.”
He hiked up one leg, dropping an elbow across it in a casual pose. “I could always just wish it out of you, keep my true story a secret.”
A sly grin crept across her face. “Yes, you could. But what a waste of a wish.”