Page 99 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘I can see them,’ he said, stepping closer. ‘All those questions burning in your eyes. I will help you, Seraphine. I am the only one who can. Bringing his lips close to her ear, he lifted a hand to her face. ‘I have to, you see. Because you are more than just a saint.’ He traced a gentle finger down her cheek, raising every hair on her arms. ‘You are my rose.’
Jarred by his closeness, she stumbled backwards. Heat gushed through every part of her. Whether it was his touch or his words that did it, she couldn’t tell, but her magic was erupting like a volcano. He was laughing now, like they were sharing a joke.
‘Later,’ he said, his gaze flitting to something over her shoulder. That smile curling and curling. ‘Everything you seek and more. I promise. In the meantime, you might do me a favour and call off your Daggers.’
Dread sliced through Sera like a cold blade. At her look of alarm, he simply clucked his tongue. ‘I’d hate to have to do it myself.’ A meaningful pause, those lion teeth flashing. ‘And believe me, so would you.’
Sera turned to find Ransom shoving through the thrum of bodies between them. A vial of Shade already in one hand and a blade in the other. Stalking.Seething.
Coming straight for the prince.
She moved like a bolt of lightning, the prince’s threat still echoing in her ears as she flung herself at the assassin currently hell-bent on murdering him.
Chapter 25Ransom
As Ransom watched Seraphine drift towards the prince like a moth to a bonfire, every muscle in his body went taut. His hands itched for the vial in his left pocket, but he stayed the impulse, reminding himself of the promise he had made to her.
I will give the prince a chance.
Whyhad he made that stupid promise again?
Because Andreas might end up being her salvation.
He might even end up being yours.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Fine.
The way Andreas approached her, like he was beholding a new jewel for his treasure chest, made Ransom feel… well,feral. Sweeping a hand through his hair, he took a steadyingbreath and walked on through the crowds, reminding himself not to do anything rash. He tracked her all the way to the far corner of the dance hall, where she turned, offering a quick nod over her shoulder.
A signal to stand down.
Relax, you hot-headed fool, he told himself.
Seraphine’s no shrinking violet.
She can hold her own.
He glanced around for the others, who had obviously got the same message. Nadia was necking shots at the bar, while Caruso swiped a pair of whiskeys from a passing tray. Val was standing at the edge of the dance floor, her face upturned towards the stage, where a slew of dancers were hollering and kicking their feet in the air.
Their mark forgotten – or shoved aside for now – the others were getting into the spirit of Marvale, which seemed to be unfettered hedonism. The Rose Garden was a glamorous canvas of sex and drink and dancing, and the kind of bawdy laughter that spilled out onto the streets. Hardly the lair of an evil prince. Ransom could at least admit that.
The rumours were proving true. Andreas was clearly beloved, and his pleasure hall was a world unto itself, where the troubles of the kingdom seemed a thousand miles away. Or perhaps, a keen glimpse into what the kingdom could one day become, if the People’s Saint had his way.
Why, then, was Ransom having trouble relaxing?
Because she looks like a rose in bloom.
And he’s leering at her like he wants to pluck her.
Ransom had never considered himself a jealous sort untilthe day Seraphine Marchant barrelled into his life. Now he was all those things and more – jealous, protective,consumedby her, and something about this place was making it all the worse.
‘I need a drink,’ he muttered, looking for a passing waiter. When none appeared he ducked towards the nearest table and yanked a full glass of dark liquor straight out of a man’s hand, the old drunkard too plastered to notice.
Ransom downed it in one, relishing the burn. It took the edge off, for about three minutes. Not quite as effective as Shade. Again, that itch in his fingers.
Keeping to old habits, he settled himself in a shadowy corner at the edge of the dance floor, where he leaned against a wooden pillar. Val was dancing nearby, Caruso smiling as he watched her. Nadia was still at the bar, probably ruminating on her run-in at the graveyard. Trying to drink the memory away. Ransom would have gone to her if he wasn’t glued to the prince and whatever he was saying that made Seraphine’s eyes gleam like that.
