Page 42 of A Crown Without Mercy

Sylvana stared at Nicolai who was wearing form-fitting, dark gray trousers that laced up the crotch and a crisp, white tunic whose soft, pleated folds fell from his wrists. He was also wearing a pendant identical to Kieran’s.I’m not overdressed after all,she thought.

Kieran pulled away from Sylvana and placed his hand on Nicolai’s shoulder. “I assume you’d like a drink?”

“You know I do.” Nicolai looked down at Sylvana and before she could speak, his mouth was on hers and the warmth of their tongues was tangled together. He pulled away ever so slightly and whispered in her ear. “You are simply divine, Sylvana. We couldn’t take our eyes off of you.”

“We?” She looked behind Nicolai and Riordan was standing in the doorway staring at her.

“Good evening, Sylvana.” he said, as he glided across the floor with purpose and authority.

Sylvana studied his appearance momentarily. He was a slightly taller and larger version of his brothers and had the same rugged features and stunning appearance. His deep, russet hair was coiffed to perfection and his amber eyes swirled around his raven black pupils. He was dressed similar to Nicolai and also wore the same pendant and gold chain as his brothers.There isn’t a question in my mind, an original sired them.“Good evening, milord.”

“Call me Riordan.”

“Yes, milord.”

Nicolai chuckled, and she squinted her eyes at him.

“It might take her a moment to get your name right,” he joked.

“My apologies for keeping Nicolai tied up. Have you been enjoying your evening?”

“Yes. Very much so. The library is incredible.”

Riordan took a seat in a green, leather chair and placed his glass on a round, black marble table. “One of the evilest things we can inherit is an ignorant mind.”

Kieran sat opposite Riordan, and Nicolai took Sylvana’s hand and led her to a matching settee and sat down. He laid one arm across the back and stroked her shoulder with his fingers.

Sylvana rubbed her arms, feeling the chill in the air, and looked toward the door when a flash of lightning snaked its way through the library and a crack of thunder rattled the stained-glass panes of the balcony doors.

“Are you cold?” Nicolai asked.

“A little,” she replied.

Nicolai waved his hand toward the hearth sitting at the far end of the room and bright, orange flames roared to life and flickered and spit at the curved, blackened ceiling; he then lifted her chin with his fist and stole another heated kiss before pulling away. “It will be warmer momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

“Did Kieran recount to you the story of our ancestors?” Riordan asked as he motioned toward the walls.

“Yes,” she replied.

Riordan placed his palm on a book that sat on the table next to his glass. “Can you read?”

“Yes, my mother taught me,” she replied.

“What do you read?” Kieran asked.

“Whatever I can. She used to tell me that knowledge is a powerful weapon.”

“That it is,” Nicolai agreed.

Riordan slowly spun his glass on the table. “I’m impressed with you.”

Sylvana stared at him momentarily. “Why?”

“I expected less.”

Sylvana looked at Nicolai and Kieran and then back at Riordan. “What is that supposed to mean?”

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