Then he sat back down on the corner of the desk, squeezing a blob of antiseptic cream onto a cotton wool ball. “My sister painted all of these before she left the Pack a few years ago,” he said as he began dabbing at her cheek.
Forgetting her burning skin, Jaz stared at him without restraint for the first time since they'd entered the office. “I never knew you had a sister.”
The sides of his lips curved upwards. “Yes. She's just over a year older than me but acts like she was born a hundred years ago.”
Jaz smiled. She opened her mouth but then closed it. She'd meant to crack a joke but something held her back.
Driver momentarily stopped dabbing.
“She's very talented,” Jaz observed.
He beamed, sweeping the cotton ball down her stinging chin. “She is. She's the creative one, Swain's the pretty one, and I'm the nasty one.”
She grinned, forcing her top lip back over her teeth. “I don't believe that.”
Driver's brows cocked up.
“Swain's not that pretty,” she added with a smirk.
He stared at her for a long second, she stared back and then they both started sniggering at the same time.
He stopped to exam her face, and then surveyed her hands. “They'll be sore for a while.”
She glanced at her right hand that was reddened from punching Fraya. “I don't know what came over me.” She met his eyes. “Will I be punished?”
“No,” he replied in a high tone, as if taken aback by her question. “Of course not. You didn't start the fight.”
She thought about that for a moment and then squeezed her eyelids shut. “Actually, I did. I hit her first.” Wondering how she could be so stupid to admit that to him, she opened her eyes to see his reaction.
Instead of getting angry or authoritative like she imagined he would, he smirked and then released a chuckle. “You continue to surprise me.”
She gazed at her hands, blushing.
“And despite the fact you may have hit her, it sounds like she wanted you to so she could fight back. She should know better. I believe you reacted in defence.”
“So what will happen to her?” she asked in a quiet voice, peering up at him.
“We'll think of something.”
“You're not gonna kill her are you?” she burst out.
He regarded her before asking, “Would you want me to?”
Her mouth hung open, realizing he was putting someone's life in her hands. Fraya was a violent bitch, and her enemy but did she want her dead? Could she do that to her? “No, no, of course not,” she said, shaking her head.
He gave her a once over; his look was confident. She couldn't look at him in the same way: her stare faltered and she glanced back down at her hands.
“I'm proud of you,” he said.
She goggled him, expressing her surprise.
“I've seen your skills improve during your sessions with Carr. He says you're a good student. Perhaps one of his favourites.”
“That's nice of him,” she mumbled. She was getting more and more restless around Nik as he studied her openly. She began tapping her foot, her gaze fixed on his ring as he grasped the sides of the desk.
“I'm proud that you stood your ground,” he added. “I wanted to intervene, but I realized you didn't need help. You're a natural fighter.”
Her foot tapping increased.
“Do you always do that when you're nervous?”
Her head snapped up and when she saw him eyeing her pattering foot, she immediately stopped.
“What have you got to be nervous about?”
She zoomed in on his face. “I think you know why,” she muttered, then turned her chin sideways. Her heart jumped in her chest when his hand delicately touched her chin and turned it towards him.
“Are you still scared of me?” he asked; his green eyes lured her in, compelling her to look at him.
She forced herself not to tap her foot; biting her lip instead. She shook her head in reply, though she knew it wasn't entirely true. She was scared of him, or at least intimidated by him. But that wasn't why she was nervous.
She sighed, sitting up straight and looking right into his face. “I wanted to say, I'm sorry,” she said in a clear voice.
His eyes widened slightly, his mouth opened and she saw the muscles in his arms stiffen as they rested either side of him.