Page 42 of The Path of Blood and Betrayals
She rubs it when she’s nervous—when she thinks no one notices.
But I’ve noticed. Since I saw in her throne room, I’ve had a keen awareness of where she is, always thinking of her, searching for her in every room.
I’d like to blame the beast and its affinity for blood—because that would be logical. But this desire, this pull, goes beyond logic.
My body hums with her presence and chills with its absence, begging to drown within her oceanic eyes. That’s never happened before.
“Did you get my present?” My words are light, taunting. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
“So itwasyou.”
“Do you have another admirer giving you gifts, kitten?” I shove my hands into my leathers, dried blood flaking off on to the floor. “I’m jealous. Here I thought, I was the only one with your undivided attention.”
She gives me a witheringglare, remaining silent.
“Would you have preferred flowers?” I tilt my head. “You don’t seem like the serenades and bouquets type, pet.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. “I can’t say I prefer corpses either.”
Standing still, shoulders back, she looks like a queen gazing upon her lands, healing from battle.
It’s not hard to remember her from the fight, blood falling from her eyes, crumpling bodies with a flick of her wrist. She’s a powerful little thing.
My mind spins, a plan forming before I can stop it.
“No?” I ask, pieces fitting together into a perfect puzzle. “Most women would love to have a man kill their enemies and leave them at their feet like a sacrificial offering.”
“Most woman,” she sighs, glancing back, “cannot kill the way I can, heir.”
Grinning, I push off the stone, moving to her back.
So we’re finally going to admit that she has magic?Perfect.
Because my father wants a weapon and I’ve just found him one.
“Tell me what you are, pet.” My lips brush her ear and she stiffens, distrusting. I can’t blame her—in fact, she’s smart. She shouldn’t trust me. “How do you kill? Tell me what you did to the lord who wished to harm you. How did you stop him?”
She stays silent.
Sighing, I play with the ends of her hair as if she’s a doll. “You just found a dead man outside your door, drained of blood. Yet, you don’t seem afraid. It’s almost as if you are used to death and destruction.”
She frowns, fingers clenching at her sides. “Should I fall at the slightest whims?” She snorts, hip cocking. “If so, I would never leave my hut.”
Abruptly, she turns, arms crossed over her chest. “Why did you do it?”
I chuckle, shrugging. “Do what,exactly?”
When she opens her mouth, I place a finger to my lips, eyes darting around. For a woman living with the inbred Witch Coven, she seems to get my meaning quickly, mouth closing with an audible snap.
“My gift,” she drawls, rolling her eyes annoyed. “Why leave him there? Why help me? What’s your game, heir?”
“Why must there be a game for me to deliver you the man who wished you harm?” I examine her eyes—uncut gems that shine in the moonlight and my breath freezes in my lungs. “Why can’t you thank me for doing a favor? Why can’t you take the kind gesture for what it is?”
“So this was, what? A way to make friends?” She narrows her eyes. “A way to avenge my honor?”
“If it was?”
“Then you’re a fool. My honor is of no concern to you. And it’d be pointless to make friends when neither of us like the other.”
