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All while those crimson-red lips dare to smirk for a mere second.
She wouldn’t dare disobey?—
“No.”
I’m not the only one staring at her in disbelief. I hide it, obviously, but Zander’s lips are round in the perfect ‘O’ shape to emphasize what’s surely going to be?—
“WOW! Sweet Dynamite, you have a death wish today, huh?” he offers and smirks as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s leaning against the bookshelf, knowing well that I hate when he does that. “The idea of you being stuck with us must make you suicidal at this point.”
Sweet Dynamite?
That’s not a good sign. Not at all.
When Zander starts laying specific names for people, it means he’s getting attached. That would only make it harder to get rid of her.
“I saved you and Ares from having a lovely meeting with Death himself, and instead of saying thank you, Gemini, what an amazing potential queen you are, I’m being handcuffed like a criminal, being forced to look at Mr. Pacewalker over there getting his 10k steps for the day in fifteen minutes.”
The laughter from Zander is expected, but the way I’m glaring over at Ares confirms he’s the one snickering. He put up his hands in defeat.
“You can’t lie. That’s funny.”
Ares laughing? Fucking hell.
“What seductive bitch are you?” I snarl at her, to which she frowns and dares to roll her eyes at me.
“Of course. Every male assumes a woman has to flaunt her pussy to be treated nicely by the opposite sex,” she complains. “If this is how you’re going to treat any individual with a pussy, you’re not going far in university.”
I’m ready to combat her bullshit when she adds.
“Oh, right. Son of Mr. Leighton. He can just sign the diploma and use his privilege to get you through four years of university in a solid week. I forgot.”
I fucking wish.
“You don’t know shit,” I threaten.
“You’re right,” she tries to shrug, but it’s hard with her handcuffed. “That’s why I’m here to attend while gaining the apparent honor of being the surviving candidate of the Ruthless King’s trials. Which, by the way, you haven’t acknowledged to my face.”
“Why would I do that?” I miss when all she did was cry and beg.
“You’ll have no choice but to admit how I successfully completed your trials on time and saved you guys not once but twice,” she summarizes. “I technically already paid off you guys having to drag my dying ass to this fancy mansion of yours.”
“And how the fuck did you do that?” She has some fucking balls to speak as if she’s the Queen who has her Kings bowing for her mercy.
Never will I bow to her.
All she needs to do is look over at Ares, who is sitting cross-legged in a chair with his phone in hand. He meets her gaze, the two of them sharing an intriguing look before he sighs.
“Guess you’re right,” he mutters, almost dissatisfied.
Almost.
“What did you…” I trail off because I now notice the side of her neck. It has to be why she looked at Ares on purpose.
To reveal what I hadn’t managed to pick up on until this moment.
“This makes me want to play very carefully with you, Traitorous Canary,” Ares grumbles but doesn’t sound like he regrets a single thing.
“That’s what you get for keeping your Sweet, Defiant, Dirty, Cunning, Traitorous Canary in a cage,” she emphasizes and shakes her wrists that jingle with emphasis on her captivity. “But seriously, can I have these off before I have a panic attack?”
