Page 64 of Claimed In Darkness

Her lips press into a tight line.

"You’ve already proven yourself to them," I remind her. "They trust you now, in their own twisted way. They think you belong to them just as much as you belong to me."

Something flickers in her expression—something she doesn’t like.

"I don’t belong to anyone."

The words shouldn’t make my blood heat the way they do.

Shouldn’t make something dark and possessive curl at the base of my spine.

"Then prove it," I murmur. "Play the game. Use their own arrogance against them."

She hesitates as she knows I’m speaking the truth.

She knows she’s capable of it.

She’s aware this is the only way.

Finally, she exhales through her nose, her posture relaxing as her decision settle into place.

But then—her lips curve.

It’s not a smile.

It’s a warning.

"You think you know me," she says, voice low, amused, fucking venomous.

I arch a brow. "I do know you."

Her chin tilts, her mouth still holding that dangerous, dangerous smirk.

"Then you should know," she purrs, "I don’t follow orders."

Something sharp punches through my gut straight to my core, a flare of heat and frustration, something bordering on obsession.

The woman is bold, she doesn’t wait for my response.

She simply turns, her fingers brushing against the corner of the table as she passes, her body far too close, her scent still lingering on my skin.

Then she’s gone.

Leaving me with a war brewing in my chest, a plan hanging on the razor’s edge of her rebellion.

The final piece has fallen into place.

But I don’t know if it’s the one that will save us.

Or the one that will tear us apart.

23

NAIRA

The High Council doesn’t know what I am capable of.

The corridors of the underground tunnels stretch before me, damp, suffocating, filled with the stench of oil and decay. A warren of stone and shadow beneath the capital, a place only ghosts and desperate men dare to tread.

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