Page 8 of Firethorne
“But they’re here now,” Miriam hissed, her eyes growing hazy as her voice became seductive. “And I think we should have a little fun.”
Damien snapped his book shut, placed it on the side table and pushed himself out of his chair. With long strides he walked over to the window, and Lysander joined him. Curiosity had gotten the better of them... eventually, and they wanted to see what was going on below, without being detected.
“What kind of fun were you thinking?” Lysander asked as he watched Miriam’s new pets walk through the front doors into Firethorne.
Miriam took a step back, as her wicked smile grew wider. And she stared at each of them in turn as she purred seductively, “I might’ve lied earlier.”
“You? Lie?” Damien quirked his brow as he stared back at her. “Now, there’s a surprise.”
She traced her fingertip along the corners of her mouth like a cat that’d got the cream, devoured it, and would claw the whole world to shreds to find more. “A little bird told me that girl coming to work for you is... special.”
Lysander narrowed his eyes in question. “Special how? And whatlittle bird?”
“A lady never reveals her sources,” Miriam replied. “A little bird is all you need to know. But there’s been talk in the village.” She stared out the window again, even though there was no one out there now. “Her name’s Maya. She’s twenty years old. And from what I’ve heard...” She peered over her shoulder, staring provocatively through her lashes. “She’s never been touched.”
Both cousins scoffed.
“How would you know that? How would anyone in the village know that?” Lysander replied.
“Like I said,” Miriam replied snippily, strolling farther into the room. “I have my sources. Which brings me to the fun I was talking about.”
“Go on,” Lysander urged, as Damien stayed suspiciously quiet, standing in the shadows of the room, watching and waiting.
Miriam paused, biting the inside of her cheek before she spoke again. “I think we should play a game, have a little bet.”
“I think I know where this is going.” Damien rolled his eyes and went to walk away, but Miriam put her arm out to stop him.
Damien peered down at where her hand touched him, a hint of disgust on his face, but he stayed still to let Miriam say her piece.
“I’m sure you do, Damien, but at least let me finish. I think you might like my terms.”
He waited for her to elaborate, folding his arms over his chest, an air of disinterest emanating from him.
Lysander, on the other hand, stared intently at her, hanging onto her every word.
“I want to see which one of you can trick her into your bed,” Miriam said, a fire burning within her as she spoke. “Take her virginity. Take whatever you want. You know how much fun it is to play with pets like her.”
“Who said we’d need a bed?” Lysander replied. “Give me a wall or a surface and I’m good to go.”
Miriam huffed a laugh. “I know exactly how you operate, Lysander, but let’s give the girl something pleasant to remember you by. I doubt she’s ever felt anything as luxurious as the silk sheets on your bed... or Damien’s for that matter.”
“You want us to fuck the hired help? And why should we do that?” Damien replied, his clipped, bored tone highlighting how unimpressed he was by the prospect she was presenting to him.
“Because, Damien dear, you thrive under pressure, you love a challenge, and you always have to win. Don’t you want to beat your brother? Prove who the best Firethorne is once and for all.”
“He won’t beat me,” Lysander announced, standing a little taller, as if that’d fortify his statement further.
“Won’t he, Lysander?” Miriam shot back, playful wickedness twinkling in her eyes. “Why’s that, cousin dear?”
“Because once she sees my face, and gets hit with the Lysander Firethorne charm, it’ll be game over. She’ll be putty in my hands.”
“So confident, brother. And yet, so, so wrong,” Damien replied.
“Am I?”
Miriam watched the brothers glare at each other, like two lions ready to rip each other’s throats out to claim the pride. Then she shrugged, ready to throw her grenade into the mix.“Maybe she’s one of those girls that likes the dark-haired, brooding in the shadows, scowling at the world, ready to burn it all to the ground, bad-boy type. Who knows? Maybe she’s not into boys at all.” She winked, but Lysander ignored the last part.
“She’ll be into us. Why wouldn’t she? But when she sees me standing behind him, all bets will be off. Remember, I bring the fire; he brings the thorns. I know which one women prefer.”
