Kill Or Be Killed

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Scale Number: 0

"Aren't you dressed yet?" Her big scary stalker asked as he walked back into the room. He looked like he was the one tired from the time spent with Hunter over the last couple of days, training until his arms felt like they were going to fall off. He held a towel against his head with one hand as he finished drying his freshly cut hair. Letting the cloth fall on his shoulder, he put that hand on his hip, giving her a look. "You were supposed to have that on before I came back out," despite the fact that he was scolding her, she couldn't help but look down his bare torso, to where his tuxedo pants hung on by sheer will of un-fortune.

The markings that covered his arms and chest were lost of all colors, although when he'd drunk that Nectar, she was sure she'd seen them flush with dull shades.

'This is ridiculous,' Cat wanted to mutter under her breath as she forced her eyes to look down at the outfit he'd laid out for her. Regardless of what she thought, she wasn't smart enough to say it aloud after they'd already argued about it four times in the last forty-eight hours. "Yeah, well I was hoping you would at least change your mind while you were grooming yourself," returning her currently bright green eyes to him, a color that tended to come out in stressful times. She crossed her arms across her chest, clenching her jaw in irritation. "Not letting this man parade us around like a chest piece."

After the time spent with him, she didn't think Hunter would do anything to really hurt either of them. Minus the cut on Kalayavan's palm that had seemed intentional, and the eerily focus he'd had on her own after. As if he expected there to be a copy on the soft skin of hers. But he was desperate enough to do something stupid to the innocents around them if they weren't careful with their actions.

Since he'd already proven he would kill on the turn of a dime, it was best they do as they were instructed. But that didn't mean she couldn't throw a fit and be pissy about it. Not that she was entirely sure where this bravery came, blossoming out of nothing from something deep inside of her.

He sighed, grabbing the towel and threw it off to the side, "We're not having this conversation, Caterina." Picking up the white shirt that was laid across the back of the chair, he put it on, quickly doing up the buttons before tucking it into his waistline. Then he did his zipper up and secured the hidden latch that kept them closed seamlessly. He then put on the vest, which had hidden compartments filled with throwing knives.

Something he'd been forcing her to practice with here in the room, whenever Hunter wasn't forcing her to do it outside for hours. More than once, it had been brought up what a natural born Esasen she would have been. Which if she remembered correctly was essentially just a really good knife thrower.

"You can either get dressed or you can stay here until I come back for my bags." It was clear by his tone he didn't want to be going either, but this was one of Hunter's requests for Kal's last night at the estate. He was supposed to leave as soon as the festivities were over. This would allow him to arrive at his destination, During something they called the Inisheashen. Apparently it was when the little killers went out for the first time.

Which also meant this was the last time they would get any time together. Not that it would be anything but tense with a rogue assassin on the loose. Looking up, she watched as he finished the buttons on his jacket, a small line forming between his eyebrows. Making her wonder what was going through his mind as he picked up the black mask that would cover half of his face.

Pressing her lips firmly together to keep from making a smart remark, just meeting his intense gaze. "Are you coming or not?" Biting the inside of her cheek, she just shook her head, earning an angry, "Fine." Kal walked over to the door, opening it only to stop and turn to send her a glare, "If you change your mind, come straight to me." With that, he left her alone standing in front of the extravagant ebony ball gown that matched his suit.