Page 43 of Her Manticore Master
I want her. Not just her body, though I crave that with an intensity that terrifies me. I want all of her—the venom and the vulnerability, the strength and the softness she tries so hard to hide.
And that makes me the biggest fool in this cursed place.
The guards come earlier than usual, their voices carrying through the stone corridors long before they reach our cell. I'm already on my feet when they appear, positioning myself between them and Corrina's sleeping form.
"Morning, beast," Thane says with his usual sneer. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough."
"I'll bet you did." His eyes drift to where Corrina is stirring, alerted by our voices. "Cozy accommodations you've got there."
Something dangerous stirs in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral. "Is there a reason for this visit?"
"Exhibition today. All gladiators to the preparation chambers."
"All gladiators?"
Korven chuckles, and the sound makes my skin crawl. "Don't worry, beast. Your little pet comes too. Master's orders."
The casual dismissal of her humanity ignites my temper, but I force myself to remain still. Reacting will only make things worse for both of us.
"I see."
"Do you?" Thane steps closer to the bars, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you've been sampling the merchandise."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Course you don't. Just like you don't know why she smells like you this morning."
Heat flares in my face, but I don't rise to the bait. Behind me, I hear Corrina getting to her feet, silk rustling as she arranges her rumpled dress.
"Gentlemen," she says with perfect poise, as if she hadn't spent the night writhing beneath my hands. "How lovely to see you."
"Lady Corrina." Korven's mockery of courtesy makes me want to break his neck. "Ready for today's entertainment?"
"Always."
But I catch the slight tremor in her voice, the way her hands are shaking before she clasps them behind her back. Whatever's planned for today, it's not routine.
They separate us in the corridors—Corrina escorted one direction while guards march me toward the familiar preparation chambers. But her scent lingers on my skin, and the memory of her soft gasps echoes in my ears.
Focus, I tell myself. Whatever game Valdris is playing today, I need to be ready.
The preparation chamber buzzes with unusual activity. More gladiators than I've ever seen gathered in one place, their faces grim with anticipation. Something big is happening.
"Ronan." The voice makes me turn, and I find myself face-to-face with a scarred orc named Grimjaw. "Heard you've been getting special treatment."
"Have you?"
"Sharing cells with harem girls. Must be nice, having something warm to hold at night."
The casual crudeness makes my hands become fists. "Careful."
"Just making conversation." But his yellow eyes gleam with malicious amusement. "Though I suppose after years in Valdris's bed, she knows all the right tricks."
"Say another word about her and I'll tear your throat out."
"Touchy, aren't we?" He grins, revealing filed teeth. "Don't worry, beast. When you're dead, I'll make sure she's properly... comforted."
