Page 53 of Her Manticore Master
Corrina makes a sound in her throat—half growl, half snarl—that would be threatening if it came from someone who actually knew how to fight. As it is, it's more adorable than intimidating, like an angry kitten trying to roar.
"I am no one's pet," she hisses at Lyralei, green eyes blazing.
"Of course not," the dark elf replies with false sweetness. "You're much too spirited for simple pet status. More of a... treasured possession, perhaps? Something to be displayed and admired?"
"Better a treasured possession than a desperate whore throwing herself at anything with a sword."
The insult hits home. Lyralei's smirk falters, replaced by something colder and far more dangerous.
"Careful, little girl. Your protector won't always be around to shield you from consequences."
"I don't need a protector."
"Don't you? Because from where I stand, you look remarkably helpless. All silk and sharp words, but no substance underneath."
Corrina tries to lunge forward, but my arm tightens around her waist, keeping her secure on my lap. She's practically vibrating with the need for violence.
"Speaking of sharp words," I interrupt before this can turn into actual combat, "I'm not interested in partnerships. Find another team."
Lyralei's expression turns bitter. "Your loss. When you're bleeding out in the sand, remember that you had options."
"I'll keep that in mind."
She stalks away with wounded pride, leaving us alone in our corner of the holding area. The moment she's gone, Corrina starts fighting against my grip with renewed fury.
"Let me go," she demands, elbowing me in the ribs.
"Not until you calm down."
"I am calm!"
"You're about thirty seconds from committing murder. Again."
That stops her struggling. "You saw?"
"Everyone saw. Nice work with the naga, by the way. Clean kill."
She twists in my lap to face me, and I'm struck by how her eyes seem to glow with inner fire when she's angry. Beautiful and deadly—a combination that's proven consistently dangerous to my peace of mind.
"She had no right to call me your pet."
"Technically, you are Valdris's pet."
"That's different."
"Is it?"
"Yes, because..." She struggles for words, then settles on: "It just is."
"Compelling argument."
"Shut up." But there's less venom in it now. "Why did you defend me?"
"Maybe I don't like people insulting my... whatever you are."
"Your whatever?"
"I'm still figuring that out."
