Page 9 of A Court of Bones & Sorrow

And that would absolutely not be happening.

“I’m done with this conversation,” she announced. “And I’ll be getting dressed now. Leave.”

“We’re not done with this conversation, and you can get dressed in there.” I pointed to the bathing chambers.

“It’s my room, and I’ll get dressed wherever the fuck I want.” She raised her chin in challenge.

“Not leaving.” I crossed my arms. Knowing Samara, she would deliberately take an hour to get dressed just to avoid having this conversation. She’d already stormed away from me once, I wasn’t letting her get away again.

Something wicked danced in her eyes, then she tossed the clothes onto the bed and whipped the towel off before I could object.

Fuck. I kept my eyes locked on hers. For three seconds. Threeexcruciatinglylong seconds.

My gaze dropped, and I was pretty sure my heart stopped with it. I’d seen Samara naked before, but it’d been steamy and she’d been lying down at the edge of the pool . . . with Kieran’s head between her legs. There had been a lot to process, and I’d stormed out before either of them had noticed just how hard my cock had grown at the sight of them.

Well, Kieran had spotted that fun fact. Samara might be oblivious to my frustrating interest in her, but he wasn’t, and he absolutely loved to push me about it, because I was apparently surrounded by assholes.

I should have looked away, or better yet, I should have fucking left the room. Instead, I stood there and drank in every delicious inch of her. Samara was nothing but enticing curves. She had the most glorious chest to ever exist resting above the soft curve of her stomach and thick thighs that would feel amazing wrapped around my head. I couldn’t see her ass from this angle, but I knew it would be plump, round, and something that would beg me to grip it. Hard.

“Have you looked your fill?” she drawled. “Because I really need to get dressed so I can get some work done.”

I snapped my eyes back up, my jaw tightening at the amusement I saw written all over her face. She was the one who’d been naked in front of me, and yet I was the one blushing like crazy.

“I hate you,” I said flatly before turning around and stalking towards the door, Samara’s deep laugh following me out.

“Good talk, Alaric!”

Chapter Four

Kieran

I surveyedthe plate resting on the worn, wooden, raised table at the center of the main kitchen. Leora—the Moroi in charge of the kitchen staff at House Harker and the best baker in existence—was shooting amused glances at me while she was baking some honey biscuits. They were a common snack, since they required few ingredients to make and honey was one thing we had in abundance. Almost all of our sweets were honey-something. Luckily for me, I loved honey and never got tired of it. Samara was the same, which was why half the plate was made up of freshly baked biscuits.

“Are you waiting for them to speak some words of wisdom to you?” Leora mused. “I admit, I am rather talented, but even my skills have limits.”

“Perhaps I’m debating if I want to bring them to Samara or if I simply want to hoard these all to myself?” I grinned at the older Moroi woman who had been a staple at House Harker for as long as I could remember.

She rolled her eyes and plucked two more biscuits off the tray before placing them on the plate. “There.” She made ashooing motion. “Now out with you so I can get back to work. You’re distracting me.”

“Leora, my wondrous beauty.” I gave her my best smile that usually resulted in panties being thrown in my direction. “You know I would marry you in a heartbeat if you would only ask.”

“You’re just as ridiculous now as you were when you first arrived.” She picked up the plate and thrust it into my hands, her light brown eyes glittering with mirth. “And if Calus hears you talking like that, he’ll wallop you good.”

I laughed and kissed her cheek. “We can’t have that. Tell him I’ll stop by later this week. It’s been a while since we chatted.”

Grabbing the food, I beat a hasty retreat. I knew from experience that Leora would go from teasing and laughing to prying into my personal life if I stayed any longer. Her husband, Calus, was the same way. The two of them were fourth-generation Moroi, like Carmilla, and were considerably older than the mid-fifties they appeared to be. We’d celebrated Calus’ 130thbirthday over the winter, and Leora was only a few years behind him.

When I’d first come to House Harker as a jaded fourteen-year-old, they had instantly taken me under their wings. Everything was so different here than House Corvinus. My parents were high-ranking advisors there, and they’d viewed me and my siblings as nothing more than pawns in their scheming. Growing up, I’d learned quickly to control every single facial expression and measure every word carefully.

It was common for Houses to trade courtiers amongst themselves. Usually the children of people like my parents or the lower-ranking family members of whatever bloodline ruled the House. Everyone knew these courtiers were loyal to their birth Houses, and yet the practice continued, because there was always the chance you could sway their allegiance andthen get information about the inner workings of the House they’d come from.

Our survival depended on the Moroi Houses working together, both for a solid defense against the wraiths and other monsters, and for resources like the gems that powered our wards. Every House controlled at least one unique resource, and the negotiations between them were ongoing and tedious. Samara loved dealing with all that bullshit. Alaric liked it too.

But that wasn’t where my skills lay. I was excellent at getting people to like me, and when people liked you . . . they talked to you. Carmilla had never asked me to spy on other Houses or collect information for her benefit. The first few years here, I’d been practically holding my breath, waiting for her to make the request, the demand.

It had never come.

And that was why my loyalty would always be to this House. Carmilla wanted her people to be happy, and so did Samara. Both of them could be cunning and underhanded at times when it came to dealing with the other Houses—there was simply no surviving in this world without a little bit of that—but Carmilla knew the names of every single person who worked in this House, down to the lowliest maid. Samara worshiped her aunt and was the same.

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