Page 170 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“No.”

“Good. Then leave. Tell them I want Maverick to inflict any torture.”

“Why him?”

Kyleer didn’t answer. He didn’t need to since the dark vengeance that firmed on his features told her he believed he could stand a chance against Maverick. Even in those bonds.

Zaiana admired his determination, even if emotional for his queen and misplaced. But she knew how vicious Maverick could be, and how merciless he could become.

Then again, there were times when Kyleer had this gleam in his eye that made her wonder what he was truly capable of. Especially for those he loved.

Perhaps love wasn’t a weakness. Perhaps it could fuel a wrath so dangerous it could triumph over anything.

“If you’re not here on their order, I’d rather you weren’t here at all,” he said.

The comment stung. Like a prick in her chest that spread the more she dwelled on it, trying to figure out if he truly meant it.

When she couldn’t stand the hurt, she chose to leave in silence.

“Before you left, you said there would be no place for a hero with a villain,” Kyleer said to her back.

Zaiana stopped walking.

“You’re not a villain, Zai. You’re not a hero or a victim either. You’re a survivor.”

Words shouldn’t lasso around her as strongly as these ones did. Repeating. Tightening. Tormenting. Remembering his scars. His hand over hers with different lines, different stories, but embedded with cruelty all the same. She didn’t want those words to place them on the same desolate ground, because that would mean he was within reach. That would split a seam on a void of emotions she was constantly adding stitches to.

No. It didn’t matter what he saw her as.

There was no place forhimwithher. Not before what she had done to him, and certainly not now he despised her.

Zaiana came back to him. “I killed the last male who loved me,” she said.

Kyleer’s heart didn’t even waver at her confession. “I didn’t take you as one to enjoy tragic poetry,” he said.

“It’s not a damned poem,” she snapped.

His mouth twitched.

“Are you hoping to exchange tragic love tales? I’ll tell you how I killed my mate if you tell me how you killed yours.”

“He wasn’t mymate.”

That seemed to disturb something in his chest, but Zaiana was coming to find the rhythm of his heart the most challenging to decipher. It was never so whole and steady. It always beat with fractures—too many for her to know what could cause them in someone so strong and resilient on the exterior.

Kyleer took a long, lazy inhale. “I think you should skip the bullshit, open that door, and test your many ways that you could kill me without your lightning.”

“Trust I’d enjoy nothing more.”

“Neither would I.”

He met her dark look with a slow, enticing smile. Her skin prickled with it. What should have been ire and anger was somehow tuned to sinful desire with this stare.

“You said she died, not that you killed her.”

Kyleer shrugged, tipping his head back against the stone. “The one who killed her did so because of me.”

“You take fault by association?”

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