“Not now,” Cainon snaps, but the man steps further into the room.
“With all due respect, it can’t wait. There’s”—his shrewd gaze nips at Rhordyn for a beat—”amessengerin your office. He insists on seeing you right away.”
Cainon groans, shoves to a stand, chair scraping across the floor before he storms toward the door.
I shovel another mouthful past my lips, the underside of my tongue tingling, stomach cramping as I chew—gaze cast on the mound of food Cainon served me.
Fuck me. Getting through all this is going to take some gall, but I’m too committed now. In over my head in more ways than one.
“Milaje.”
Tucking a loose tendril of hair behind my ear, I look up. “You’re still here?”
There’s a long, frosty pause, and I swear that flare in his eyes intensifies, even as his irises deepen into a darker, stormier gray that pinches my defiant nipples and sparks my blood with a strike of thrill.
Some small, fucked-up part of me—a part Iloathe—is feeding off this toxic game of chase.
“Did you read the book?”
“No.” I set my fork beside the plate and dab at my lips with a napkin. “But it madefantastickindling.”
His eyes widen.
The blow of satisfaction it punches me with is intoxicating.
I reach toward a plate of sweet-looking sticky treats dripping with a sunshine glaze, shoving one in my mouth and licking the residue off my fingers. Slowly. Precisely. Cleaning all five before I say, “There was something so satisfying about watching it burn.”
His chair groans as his knuckles whiten, scouring the musician with a threatening perusal the poor man must surely feel.
“Something you want to say, Rhordyn? Or do?” His stare hits me like a stone, and I lift my chin, pushing the cascade of curls over my shoulder. “Choke me, perhaps?”
His heaving chest stills.
I look down my nose at him as I trace a trail with the tips of my fingers from my bottom lip down,down …over my throat, all the way to the chain encircling it.
The obscure curse heshackledme with.
“Burst my flesh with your teeth?” I purr, and a low, primal growl vibrates from his chest to mine, making my skin prickle.
It stirs me up and untangles me in the very same beat. Makes me want to dash out of this chair just to see if he’ll chase.
No.
I punch the underside of my fist onto the table hard enough to clatter the cutlery. “Lock me in your fuckingden?”
There’s a challenge in my voice because I want him to yield. I want him to bend so much he fuckingsnaps.
He exhales, swallows, then, “There is something I want to do, yes.”
“By all means.”
I tip the flute to my lips, his punishing stare skimming my throat as I swallow.
His eyes lift, striking mine, baring a brash confidence that’s utterly charged. “I don’t think Cainon would be particularly pleased to walk back through those doors and see hispromisedspread across the table while I feast between her thighs.”
I choke, sputtering wine down my chin.
Between my breasts.
