Page 55 of Storm of Shadows
If the little brat isn’t knocking at our door exactly on time, I’ll be keeping my promise and marching right over to find and drag her here.
I can tolerate a certain amount of disobedience. I can even find it a turn on. But this has gone too far.
Luckily – or maybe unluckily – was the idea of dragging her here turning me on? As the clock in the lounge chimes eight, there’s a light rap at the door. Even though I’m standing right there, I don’t answer the door straight away. She kept me waiting. Now I will keep her waiting too.
I count to one hundred in my head, then step to the door, pull it open and immediately my hackles are rising, the shadows inside me hissing.
“Who the hell did that?” I boom, staring straight into her messed-up face. Her nose is swollen and dark bruises circle under each of her eyes. It looks fucking painful.
“Who said anyone did it?” she says, frowning. “I fell over.”
“Onto your nose?” I spit in disbelief.
She shrugs.
“Were you pushed?”
“No, I tripped.”
I take her wrist and yank her into the hallway. Immediately her head tips back and her bruised eyes widen.
“This is your room?” She gasps.
“This is the hallway,” I tell her, wondering whether knocking her head has messed up her mind.
Her brows wrinkle. “There’s more?”
“Of course there is more,” I say, pulling her into the kitchen.
“This … this belongs to you?” She swears under her breath.
I glance around at the room again. There’s nothing particularly special about it. In fact, I’ve hardly been in here since we arrived. “Yes.” And then I understand. “This entire tower belongs to us. All of it. Every single room in it.”
“Us?”
“Me and my brothers. The three of us.”
“I–”
“Sit down,” I say, pushing her into one of the velvet-covered chairs that ring the walnut table in the room. “Why didn’t you come and find me to fix your face for you?”
“It’s already fixed,” she says, eyes still taking in the room.
“Doesn’t look fixed to me,” I growl, hooking my forefinger under her chin and lifting her face to mine. Her skin is soft against my fingers – soft and fragile and from this angle I can see the pulse leaping in her throat. I can imagine our collar wrapped around that throat.
Her eyes – a deep green – meet mine for a fraction of time, then dart away.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”
“No,” she says.
“Was it that loser again?” I growl lowly and I swear the sound makes her shiver.
Fuck, I like that. Could I make her shiver in other ways too?
Her eyes narrow. “Did you–”
“Yes, and this ends now. I will hurt anyone who hurts you. In fact, I will fucking kill them. If anyone tries to hurt you, you make that abundantly clear to them.”
