“I thought you might find work for her in Enoch,” Heather commented softly, his eyes on Sasha’s slim back.
“I am taking her to Jeru City. Wasn’t that your suggestion, Lieutenant?” Damion answered darkly.
“Yes . . . but I saw you leave her chamber this morning, Captain.”
“You will do well to control your thoughts and your tongue, Heather.”
“If you don’t mean to keep her, you cannot use her,” Heather snapped.
Without warning, Damion snatched his blade from his boot, striking out with a glancing swipe and nicking Heather’s left cheek.
“You were warned, Lieutenant.”
Heather reared back, his hand on his sword, his face bleeding, his ego clipped. The wound was shallow, but a soldier’s pride was deep, and Damion waited, tensed for the young lieutenant to make another challenge. Heather
