Page 231 of The Call of Crimson
I take a leisurely stroll across the room, stopping in front of Cillian’s chair, right between his spread legs. He drags his gaze over me, but doesn’t speak as I lean down and place my hands on the armrests.
“How about reason number four?” I ask, voice low. “We need information. Your expert opinion, if you will.”
He raises his scarred brow. “And how exactly are you paying for that?”
“How doesyou’re staying in my kingdom, in my castle, and I’m the godsdamned princesound?” Ayden bites back.
“Say the word and I’m gone, princeling.” Cillian’s lilt thickens, a tell-tale sign of his rising temper. “I’ve only stayed this long for Breyla.”
“Ignore him,” I tell Cillian, dragging his gaze back to me. “Answer my questions and I’ll pay twice your normal fee.”
“No.”
“No?” I ask, dumbfounded. “Then what do you want?”
Cillian smirks, his eyes flicking over my shoulder to Ayden. “I’ll answer your questions, Breyla, but I’m not interested incoin.” His voice drops lower. “I want the prince to get on his knees and ask me himself.”
Ayden bristles. “You mean you want me to beg.”
Cillian shrugs. “I prefer asking nicely. I usually reserve begging for those at the end of my sword—or my cock.”
With a sigh, I step aside, looking at Ayden. “The only way he’ll answer our questions is if you do what he’s asking.”
Ayden’s jaw ticks. “I do not beg, Breyla.”
“Is your pride worth your people’s lives?”
A long beat of silence stretches. Then, finally, Ayden grits, “Fine, but you tellno one.”
“Understood,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
Ayden kneels slowly, several feet away from Cillian.
Cillian’s eyes spark with amusement as Ayden shifts uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing his arms.
“Cillian, will you?—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Cillian purrs, beckoning Ayden forward with the curl of his finger. “Closer.”
With a deep growl, Ayden crawls forward until he’s nearly between Cillian’s spread knees.
“Better,” Cillian murmurs, utterly delighted. “Proceed.”
Ayden exhales a sharp breath. “Cillian, will you please answer our questions?”
Cillian pretends to consider the request for a moment, mischief practically glowing in his teal eyes. “Why yes, princeling, I will.”
Ayden starts to stand, but Cillian catches his shoulder, keeping him in place. “One more thing.”
“What?” Ayden grits out, glaring up at him.
“You look exceptional on your knees.” Cillian’s grin is slow, wicked. “Perhaps next time you’ll try my version of begging, hm?”
Ayden jerks to his feet, rage simmering just beneath his skin as Cillian bursts into raucous laughter.
“Now that we have that confusing display out of the way,” I say, stepping between them. “We have questions about a string of murders that occurred here over the last six weeks.”
“I have heard something about that,” Cillian says, shifting into a more serious posture. “Do you have any suspects?”
