Page 72 of Storm of Shadows
The smirk fades from his face and his expression hardens.
“Why?”
“Professor,” I whisper, “if you knew my sister you’d know why.”
He holds my gaze unblinking and I can’t read if he’s bluffing or not.
“I mean,” he says finally, “why do they want you as their thrall?”
“I … I honestly don’t know.”
“There must be a reason.” Maybe if I was some other girl – one who hasn’t been dragged here from the shithole of Slate Quarter, one with abilities and talents, connections and personality, beauty and sex appeal, I’d be a little affronted at thefact the professor can’t understand why they have chosen me. But I know what I am.
“I’m as mystified by it as you are.”
He nods, his eyes sliding over my face again like he’s trying to see under my skin to the girl beneath.
“You don’t have to accept,” he growls. “There are no rules which dictate a thrall is obliged to take up the position.”
“That’s not what everyone else seems to think.”
“People think a lot of things that are false. It is your choice.”
He doesn’t need to tell me that.
He stands up as if that is the end of the conversation, but I haven’t forgotten our bargain.
“You didn’t answer my question before. Were you here when Amelia was here?”
“I wasn’t.”
“But do you know what happened to her?”
“No,” he says decisively, but this time there’s a slip, one I can’t quite describe – a flash of something I find hard to recall once it’s passed. Was it a flash of the eyes? A twitch of his cheek? I don’t recall. I just know he’s lying.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Fox
The girl slams the door closed behind her.
I let my head tilt backwards and I inhale, the air sliding through my mouth, down my throat and deep into my lungs.
I groan.
The girl smells like sin. Like everything I’ve tried to forget. Delicious, succulent, gratifying.
I run my tongue over my teeth and then my lips, catching just a taste of her in the air.
Fuck, I’d like to taste her for real.
Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of it ever since that first fucking lesson.
I’d hoped my mind had deceived me – that her scent wasn’t as tantalizing as I remembered; that I’d made it more than it was in my mind.
But it’s more tantalizing. Tempting. Troublesome.
I groan again, flip my head forward and scrub my hands down my face.
