Page 53 of House of Pawns
Hot coals ignite in my chest. I don’t like being told what to do, I’m discovering this about myself lately. I lift a hand, place it against his chest, ignoring how firm and sculpted it is, and determinedly push him back away from me.
“I may not be the descendent of a pharaoh or a sheik, butyou will respect that I am in fact a royal and grant me my personal space,” I say in a low voice. My eyes match his, glare for glare.
The black veins grow on his face as his eyes flare red.
Nial, Anna, and Samuel instantly surround me, blocking Raheem’s path to me.
Raheem gives a slow smile, though his eyes do not dim. Instead, I see a shift. Pride. Hunger. Admiration. “Oh how the King will toy with you,” he says. “Just before he kills you.”
Hisses fill the room and every pair of eyes but mine glow red.
“I do not fear the King’s intent to kill me,” I say, stepping from between Nial and Anna. “But I am not some play thing to be poised and tossed around.”
Raheem’s smile grows and that look in his eyes deepens. Slowly, slow enough to convey the message that he means no harm, he raises his hand and brushes his fingers over my left cheek. “You are such a glorious creature, Alivia. It seems almost a shame for you to resurrect. You’re such a unique human.”
And his compliment, no matter how demented and twisted the contents of it are, gives me pause. Something lifts in my chest. Being complimented, being recognized and praised for what I am able to do, it’s something I have yet experienced.
I swallow hard, and take a step back from him. I blink three times, clearing the charmed fog from my brain. “I will figure this out. As you said, this is my job to deal with, and I’d appreciate it if you left me to it.”
Raheem raises an eyebrow at me. “As you wish.”
MY HANDS SHAKE AS I park the car in front of the cabin and shut the engine off. My insides quake. My palms sweat. My heart is hammering in my chest.
There are scorch marks on Lula’s front lawn. A broken window was patched and repaired with duct tape. And Ian’s front door—there’s axe marks on it.
My eyes stayed glued to his front door the entire time.
Slipping the keys into my pocket, I climb out of the Jeep and close the door behind me. At the same time, the front door opens.
Ian walks out onto his rickety front porch, hands stuffed into his pockets, just like they always used to be. His eyes are impassive and show me nothing as I walk toward the steps.
I stop at the bottom of them, looking up at him.
I have to fight back the tears that bite at the back of my eyes. I can’t help the redness that I’m sure is building there, but I bite my lower lip once to be sure it doesn’t quiver.
“What are you doing here, Liv?”
And the sound of his voice, the anger behind it, but the way he says Liv instead of Alivia, I have to look away from him and take several long breaths.
I don’t want to look weak.
I can’t afford to look weak in front of anyone, not in my current position and circumstances.
But this is Ian.
There’s no pretending here.
Finally, when I feel I have control over myself again, I look back at him.
“I came to let you know that King Cyrus will be coming in just over one week,” I say. My voice isn’t as calm as I’d like it to be. “I thought you should know. So you can prepare.”
He looks at me a long time, biting the inside of his lower lip. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes dart away from me, and back again. I can see the emotional war going on inside his own head. “You want to come in for a minute?”
The sting bites my eyes once more, but I nod my head perhaps a little to vigorously. “Yeah.”
He steps aside, and I don’t look at him as I climb the stairs and walk past him into the cabin.
It’s just as hard being back inside. A reminder of how I hid here once. How we trained. How he acted like he was annoyed by me, but really, we were building up to something amazing and grand and cosmic.
