Page 44 of Vengeance and Vipers
He makes a strangled, choking noise above me, and I’m afraid he somehow knows the nature of the things that are going through my head, but he’s completely silent after that.
At the top of the stairs is a dead-end, and he presses a stone beside my head that looks just like all the others as far as I can see. I hear a click, and a door opens in front of me. The library is on the other side. The smell of the books assails me, and I breathe it in. I always liked this room the best.
I push the door wider and go inside before Daemon can touch me again, and I halt in my tracks when I find Maddox sitting behind his desk, facing me.
He surveys me, clearly not surprised to see me emerging from his secret passages with his clan brother.
‘Are you putting me back in the dungeon?’ I blurt, still unnerved by Daemon, whom I can feel standing behind me.
Maddox continues to look unmoved, taking a small sip from a small, stemmed glass in his hand. He leans back. ‘That depends entirely on you, Jules. Why don’t you sit down?’
I shake my head, but Daemon’s hand on the small of my back urges me over to one of the upholstered wooden armchairs in front of Maddox’s desk. His hand on my shoulder forces me down into it, and the full-on contact of his skin pressing against mine has my hands squeezing the arms of the chair hard as my abdomen clenches and I choke back a moan.
He looks at me sharply, but I ignore him, trying to shy away from his hands before I embarrass myself. Thankfully, his fingers leave me, and I try to pull myself together, focus on Maddox.
‘Was it difficult to find her?’ the clan leader asks.
Daemon, who I know is still staring at me, finally steps away. He scoffs at the question. ‘Of course not. She’s so predictable. Even not being able to smell her, it was stupidly easy.’
I roll my eyes but wonder what he means by not being able to smell me. I would have thought Iron’s conjure from the Mountain would have worn off by now. But if I still don’t have a scent, that gives me an advantage I didn’t know I had.
Maddox chuckles and gives Daemon a nod that must be an invitation for him to leave because he turns, his eyes finding me again. As he walks past the back of my chair, a lone finger brushes across my bare back, and it takes everything in me not to give an outward reaction, though my thighs involuntarily press together hard.
‘Be seeing you, Jules,’ he mutters.
As the door closes behind Daemon, Maddox steeples his fingers and regards me.
‘Jules, I have a proposition,’ he starts, not wasting any time. ‘If you agree, you have my word that you won’t be returned to the dungeon.’
I blink at his statement and clear my throat, trying to buy myself a few seconds because we’ve just entered into the negotiations for my freedom and potentially even my life. I try to get over my confusing reaction to Daemon as I surreptitiously sit up straight in the chair. I also lean back a little like I’m getting comfortable because I want Maddox to think I’m not fazed by any of this. I’m not going into this discussion on the back foot.
‘And if I don’t agree?’ I ask, just to show him that I’m not afraid.
I feel that side of me who knows how to navigate these supe-infested waters slide into place like a warm, fitted glove on a freezing day, and I’m instantly more at ease.
I’ve done this a hundred times at a hundred desks with a hundred supes, and I’ve always come out on top. Granted, none of those others knew me the way Maddox does, but so long as I’m not put back in the cold dungeon, I feel like that’s a win.
He smiles coldly. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you still won’t see the dungeon again, darling, but you will get a brief yet exhilarating tour of the ancient woodlands on the estate before you’re dispatched.’
‘Dispatched?’ I grin. ‘What a charming way of saying you’re going to slit my throat and throw me in a shallow grave on your property, Julian.’
‘Indeed.’ He takes another sip from his glass.
My eyes flick to it. ‘Any chance of refreshment while we discuss my fate?’
‘But of course.’
Maddox gets up and pours me a finger of cognac. I reach for it, but he ignores me, instead putting the glass over the flame of a candle that I hadn’t really noticed on the sideboard. He swirls it around, warming it to his satisfaction before he finally hands it to me.
I take it gingerly, taking care not to let his fingers touch mine just in case my reaction to Daemon wasn’t an isolated incident. I cup it in both hands, appreciating the warmth of the glass on my cold fingers as I take a sip.
He quirks a brow.
‘Lovely,’ I say. ‘Louis 13?’
His lip twitches. ‘Very good.’
I sit back in the chair, allowing the silence to stretch on, letting him be the one to speak first. I sip my drink slowly, taking the fact that he poured me a glass ofveryexpensive brandy as a good sign. Even Maddox wouldn’t have wasted the good stuff on a dead woman. I take in the room as I wait. It’s exactly as I remember it: ornate plaster moldings with gilt accents and periwinkle panels. Floor-to-ceiling books on every subject take up most of three walls, while the fourth is dominated by tall windows and multiple French doors that look out over the gardens.
