“You’re welcome to borrow it.” I held it out once more, but she was as defiant as ever, already shaking her head. “In any case,” I said, “the library is yours to roam, should you choose. You may find some interesting occult or fae history books to aid in your ritual. But no lurking or skulking—thatis strictly my province.”
She cast her gaze to the chandeliers and sighed at my attempted humor. When she finally saw fit to look at me again, she crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “How very Beauty-and-the-Beast of you.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand the reference.”
“Let me break it down for you. You’re the beast in the equation.”
Oh, you have no idea, little thief…
I reached for a lock of her hair, aching to brush it from her shoulder, but stopped short of touching it. My hand simply hovered between us, tickled by the soft whoosh of her breath. She gazed at it intently, mesmerized, and for a moment I wondered if she could sense the magick coursing beneath my skin the same way I could sense hers.
“I suppose that makes you the beauty, then?” I asked, lowering my hand and stepping closer. Too close. The scent of her freshly washed hair and skin intoxicated me.
“It makes… It makes me…” She blinked rapidly, then shook her head, ice hardening her features once more. “It makes me the prisoner, Keradoc. Nice clothes and soft sheets and a library full of first editions pilfered from the homeland doesn’t change that.”
I forced myself not to bristle at the rebuke. “Your stay here will be more pleasant if you stop thinking of yourself as a prisoner.”
“I didn’t come to Midnight for pleasantries,warlord. And even if I had, I wouldn’t look for them here. I’m pretty sure you’re not capable of anything evenremotelypleasant.”
“Your concept of what I’m capable of,Darkwinter, is severely limited.”
“As isyourconcept of how good my imagination is.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt your imagination is rich and fathomless. So I want you to imagine this.” I closed the very last of the gap between us and grabbed her arm, peering down into her glittering green eyes. “When you crawl into the bed of your precious demon tonight… When the others are fast asleep and he alone touches you… When he whispers against your pale neck… When he puts his warm, wet, demanding mouth on all the places that give you such wild and fevered dreams, I want you to imagine how it would feel to see him stripped bare, tied to the underside of the drawbridge, whipped until his very bones wept, and lowered into Beggar’s Moat during the full triple moon when the light would grant the mostexquisiteview of the carnage. I wonder,angel, would he scream? Or would he hold fast, imploring you with that singular eye not to fear for him, not to mourn him as I sent his soul back to its eternal torment in hell?”
Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. When she spoke, her voice was tight with emotion. With rage. “You’re amonster.”
“But not a fool.” I released her arm. “Donottest me again, Miss Barnes. You’ll not enjoy the outcome.”
A flicker of fear danced through her eyes, mingling with a vile hatred that for some inexplicable reason made my cock stiffen.
Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to bed that obstinate little witch. To fuck the hatred right out of her. To break her until she softened and moaned my name as she had the demon’s,beggingme not to stop…
We glared at each other in the flickering candlelight, another unspoken challenge rising between us.
I was tempted to use fae magick on her, if only to keep her in my company for the rest of the evening, to enjoy more of her sharp wit and my own dark, twisted fantasies.
But I wouldn’t. Not now. Despite what she thought of me—despite the urgent ache in my cock—no, I wasn’t the kind of man who drugged and manipulated women for my own entertainment.
I preferred to savethosetactics for more important missions.
With a final warning glance, I replaced the book on the high shelf above her head and turned on my heel, leaving her alone in the library, trying not to chuckle at the sound of her soft grunts as she tried in vain to jump up and grab the book.
21
ELIAN
Fifteen minutes into our new gig, Jax and I were already at each other’s throats.
Thanks to Haley, neither of us had slept much.
Jax, on account of making my little sparrow sing for him all night long.
Me, on account of having to listen to that shit, even locked away in my own sleeping alcove with pillows jammed up around my head and my heart slamming against my ribs and the thunder of a fresh storm rattling the windows.
On top of all that, the meager meal Keradoc’s staff had prepared for us left us hollow and irritable—cold, congealed oatmeal and a few overly ripe pieces of fruit, along with a watered-down bottle of blood for me. Haley had taken one look at that shit, pushed up her sleeve, and offered the vein.
I was too hungry to resist, even though the sight of her made me want to jump off the highest turret.
