Page 88 of Between Imminent Fates

It made Derikles proud to have called Isaiah his sovereign.

Understandably, Rukia was a mess. She’d retreated into the comfort of Gideon’s arms, Jeremiah rubbing her back while they both whispered to her. For a moment, Derikles was trapped by their grief, and he didn’t register the fact that he was no longer standing alone.

Her scent coiled around him. Spun sugar and peaches, it was a sweetness that tantalized his senses. He barely resisted the urge to bury his nose in Celeste’s neck and breathe deeply.

“What’s your poison?”

Chapter Seven

Celeste

Surprised emerald eyes methers.

Derikles was powerfully built, like so many of their breed, and his gaze held an intelligence and heat that’d made her shiver. His perfect features, flawless in a way that’d make the Greek gods jealous, formed a delicious contrast with the tattoos visible on every inch of his exposed arms and neck.

Ignoring the sudden swell of desire within her, she asked, “Bourbon? Coffee? Carmel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with chocolate drizzle?”

The instant he frowned, she wanted to melt.

“You’re asking me about my favorite drink when I’ve just heard the last words of my sovereign?”

“If you wanted pity, you could’ve played that card. But you didn’t.” Celeste fisted her hands on her hips. She quirked an eyebrow expectantly. “What’s your poison?”

“Do you typically call beverages poison? Is there someone I should be murdering because you’ve experienced an assassination attempt?”

“Fighting for my honor?”

“More wanting to rid the world of pests.” Derikles inclined his chin. “I detest the hurting of innocents.”

“Whoever said I’m innocent?”

That got his attention. His gaze slid down her body, not in a heated way that would make a woman feel sleazy, but cataloguing everything about her.

“You never answered my question.”

“Why?”

A man of few words. “Humor me.”

He sighed. “I prefer whiskey.”

“Something to warm your soul on those cool desert nights?” The man’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. She continued with the line of questioning. “Favorite zoo animal?”

“Why would I delight in caging them?”

A studious nod. “Valid. Favorite sport?”

By now, he was growing suspicious. “Polo.”

“Really?” Pleasantly surprised, her eyebrows rose. “Ever been on a roller-coaster? And no, the kiddie choo-choo train doesn’t count.”

At the hint of a taunt, he pivoted so she was his whole focus. Before now, they’d simply been standing side by side to watch as everyone else spoke. “Paying money for cheap thrills isn’t my style.”

“Whatisyour style?”

“Seriously, what’s with the interrogation?”

“If we’re going toliaise, I want to know who I’m getting in bed with.” A poor choice of words, really.“And if I’m to teleport to you with updates, I need your psychic signature.”

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