Page 117 of Tall, Royal Hater
It was past eleven at night when I returned to Chaukham Palace. The corridors were quiet and sleepy as I slipped up to my room, leaving a trail of sensor lights on behind me.
Except…instead of heading into my own space, I found myself staring at Mariyah’s bedroom door.
I wasn’t sure what compelled my feet to move in that direction, but I ended up in front of it. I lifted my hand, but rather than knocking, I tried the handle.
The door held in place. Locked—again.
The sensible thing would have been to knock. The better thing would have been to head into my room and wash off the damp, gross feeling the afternoon had left on my skin.
Instead, I kept my back turned to the peace and quiet of her absence and dug through my coat pocket for the two bent hairpins I always kept on me.
Just as I pulled them out and aligned one to fit into the keyhole, the click of the lock turning filtered through the air and the door flew open.
A makeup-free Mariyah stood at the threshold of her room in nothing but an oversized pale blue T-shirt and her hair tied in a messy bun above her nape. She scowled between the pins in my hands and my face as she caught me in the unfinished act of picking her bedroom lock.
“Are you fucking serious?” she bit out. “Do you not know how to knock? Or do you have a lock-picking fetish? What is wrong with you?”
I was too taken by the sight of her bare legs, marked with faint freckles and my hickeys, to straighten or answer immediately.But I didn’t exactly care that I’d been caught, so I stood upright and tucked the hairpins back into my pocket with a lazy slowness to my movement.
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as I stepped towards her, but before she could argue or stop me, I edged into her room.
“What are you doing?”
There was a book on her bed where the duvet had been pushed back and her pillow sat up against the wooden headboard.
“Shehryar.”
I swaggered towards the velvet chaise and shucked my coat. I draped it neatly on one side of the seat, then bent down and tugged at my laces.
“What—” Mariyah made an irritated sound as she shut the door.
Gathering my trainers together, I tucked them under the chaise and out of the way before I turned back to face her.
The little menace glared with her hands on her hips, which pulled the thin fabric of her T-shirt taut around her front. It was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, and the knowledge made my balls tighten. When she shifted under my ogling, I raised my gaze to her face to find her cheeks had warmed to a gratifying shade of pink. The corner of my mouth twitched.
She’s cute. So pretty. Beautiful.
And I had clearly lost my mind.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Mariyah leaned her weight on one hip. “Why are you here, Sheri? And why the fuck did you take your shoes off like you’re staying?”
I hated that name.I hated that name.So why did the nudge of irritation I felt feel so fucking good? Like relief. Like something familiar and safe and real. No façades, no lies. Just truth.
I rubbed my teeth together, unable to grapple on to anything going on in my head with any real strength. But neither did I feel recklessly out of control.
“Shehryar,” Mariyah said in irritation. “Why are you here?”
Why am I here?
Honest answer was I didn’t know.
This was Mariyah. I didn’t like her. I should’ve been running in the opposite direction to her menacing presence that drove me beyond mad. But…
Right then she looked and felt like a drug. A combination of cure, torture, and escape. And I wanted it. I craved it.Her. Not just sexually. But her annoying presence too.
I wanted a hit of frustration to replace the mess of numbness I was feeling, and she was the only one who could give me the right kind. The kind she gave me in the morning in the forest.
The kind that distracted my mind from everything but anything related to her. Anger. Passion. Irritation. Curiosity. But all revolving aroundher.
