Page 29 of Shadows and Roses

His tongue traced her fingers. Were his instincts simply useless here? It hadn’t been with the nobles. They prodded his pride, but once he controlled his temper, he could read them as easily as any.

Ah, so that was it. Lack of control. He was too angryto see her clearly. Of course.

He wanted her to be vulnerable. He wanted her to have a weakness. That would be simpler.

The lack of surprise in her eyes made sense. Like she was examining a strange insect. His fingers loosened. He’d been mistaken. There was no warmth beneath the ice. Only more ice.

She withdrew her hand. "You're of no use to me today. That will be all."

He frowned at the sudden dismissal. "My Queen—"

"Take the rose with you."

He glared at the flower, snatched it up, and strode out the door.

Did she want him to be afraid? No doubt only fools weren’t afraid of her. He felt a fool.

Fine, he’d play her game. But if she pushed too hard, he was going to do something that would get himself executed. The thought thinned his lips as he passed the smirking guards. Bastards probably heard and enjoyed every scream.

His temper sharpened his fluid movements into a predator's silent stalk, startling a maid who had just turned a corner in the hall. She glanced at his face and went white, scurrying in the opposite direction. His breath hissed out of him as he pulled in his aggression again. Carefully closing his door lest he break it, he set the rose down and leaned over the table on stiff arms.

This place was getting under his skin. With any other patron of the House, he would have followed her lead. She hadn't done anything intolerable—had barely done anything at all. Except his contract—that was infuriating. Even that, he could have put from his mind for the day. But she was not any other patron and he was just another one of the Queen's toys.

Chapter 8

Anais

"He’s too young."

Jerome didn’t waste time. The doors had barely closed when the captain muttered his opinion.

Anais glanced at him with a raised brow. "I’m hardly older."

"You didn’t grow up a glorified whore, my Queen."

She snorted. "The court would think otherwise."

He didn’t need to respond to that comment.

The courtesan had been confusing. She’d sensed anger, distrust, resentment. While she understood those feelings, a courtesan of his caliber should’ve kept them in check. Then again, she’d never visited a Night Court establishment. Perhaps, if their positions were reversed, she’d find herself just as off center.

There had been a moment. He’d managed to slip into his role, and something called to her—to Anais, not the Dark Queen. The nobles brought out her darkness often, but this was as different as fire to ice, a panther to a snake. When his soft tongue had stroked her hand, she'd almost blushed. She had wanted to play. The disconcerting feeling threw her off balance, and she had pushed it away.

Ridiculous.

Her hand still tingled.

"He’s pretty and he seems nice," Madeline murmured.

The handmaiden walked on her other side. Now that Anais was paying attention, she noted the shared glances,prolonged by half a second.

Jerome’s jaw ticked. "Of course he’s pretty. He’s—"

Darius interjected from behind them, "Wait. Anais, is that what you’ve wanted this whole time? If I’d known… well, it’s not my natural talent, but I’m sure I could figure it out."

Anais stopped walking. They stood at the entrance to her gardens. "Do any of you have substantial complaints?"

Madeline shook her head. Jerome glowered.

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