For a heartbeat, Dax didn't move. His eyes softened just slightly with the understanding of Chris's motivations. "You've been paying attention," Dax murmured, almost amused, though there was an edge of steel under the words. "Smart."
Christopher felt his shoulders ease by a fraction, though the tension in the air still pulsed like a live wire. "Smart enough," he muttered, "to know that men like you don't ask questions unless you already know the answers."
That earned him the faintest tilt of Dax's head, the barest curve of his mouth. "Careful," Dax said softly, "you almost sound like you're accusing me of something."
Christopher let out a short breath of a laugh, and before he could stop himself, the sarcasm slipped out, sharp as a blade. "Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty. Next time I'll clap and thank you for dragging me into your car instead of having your guards bag my head and throw me in the trunk."
The second the words left him, he froze.
'Shit. Shit, why did I…?'
