Page 144 of A Promise so Bold and Broken

Looking deeper into the amber eyes, she realized it wasn’t so much age as it was… resolve.

Something seemed to have settled in the eyes that used to flick so nervously from side to side, either from guilt or from not being entirely comfortable in her own skin—from not knowing where in this world she belonged.

She drew a deep breath.

That, at least, she thought she knew now.

Where she belonged.

Where home was.

Lessia tried for a smile when sorrow jabbed at her chest, sticking her tongue at herself when it still looked more like a grimace before turning around to follow the mouthwatering aromas drifting up the stairs.

Her wet hair slammed against her back as she took the stairs two by two in her hurry to fill the stomach she’d mistreated so severely these past months—with too little food, disgusting food, or, whenever she got the chance, too much food.

She was glad she knew the way to the dining room, as she didn’t pass a single servant, only a lonely guard whose hidden eyes tracked her, his dark mask turning ominously as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor.

Lessia drew a breath before she walked over the threshold, preparing herself for a dinner filled with thick tension.

She was not wrong.

It was as if a weight hung across the room, the uncomfortable silence so palpable she wondered whether she should try a bite of it instead of the plates of vegetables and meat placed out on the wooden table.

Every pair of eyes drew her way as she made her way over, but it wasn’t Loche’s piercing gaze nor Raine’s raised brows that had her face nearly melting off.

It was Merrick’s dark eyes dragging over her body, the slight flare of his nostrils as he must be picking up her scent mixing with his, the fingers gripping the table so hard the others had to catch their glasses from falling over, and the heat that followed like a shooting star on a clear winter night.

She felt lightheaded again.

But for an entirely different reason.

And it didn’t help when a thrill raced down her back, a flame igniting within herself, and the heat in Merrick’s eyes turned to hunger.

Swallowing, Lessia set her sights on the empty chair beside Kerym, but as she neared, the Fae violently shook his head at her, eyes flicking toward Merrick. “Absolutely not. I don’t plan on getting killed today. You go over there.”

Her cheeks burned as she did everything she could to move smoothly to the other side, toward the chair beside Merrick, without lifting her gaze or losing control.

She failed miserably.

Bumping into the side of the table, she nearly brought the entire thing with her, and only because Merrick flew from his seat, correcting the table in his stride and then catching her, did she not drop down on her ass on the gray carpet.

Lessia exhaled sharply as his arms wrapped around her, and she couldn’t help but lift her eyes to his, knowing exactly what he could smell right now.

What Raine and Kerym could smell.

She groaned silently.

What was happening to her?

Merrick made no sound as he guided her to the chair and placed a plate of steaming food before her.

She began shuffling the food into her mouth as fast as she could, trying to erase the past seconds from her mind when warmth trailed over her face.

And not the scorching heat that was Merrick’s eyes, but softer—still probing, but gentler.

With the fork in her hand, she sneaked a peek at Loche.

He sat leaning back in his chair with two soldiers hovering a few feet behind him—how she’d missed those two walking in, she didn’t know—swirling a cup of wine.

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