Page 7 of Tides of Shadows

“A pity,” he sighed with theatrical regret, tilting his head. “You have robbed me of a quite pleasant diversion.” His gaze slid over me with a new, assessing interest. “You are more than welcome to take her place.”

He sat there, unruffled, with sun glinting off the diamonds in his necklace. I began to suspect he belonged to one of the Families. None but them would have such brazen boldness. But I cared not for his Family or his name. I wanted him out of my bed.

“Whoever the fuck you are, get out.”

He propped himself on his elbow and went on, unbothered. “I have a feeling you are beginning to like me.”

My hands clenched and I felt the familiar prickling of magic under my skin. Instead of calling on it, I reached for my belt. In an instant a blade flashed in the sunlight and cut the air.

The steel sank into the headboard an inch from his head, so near that a fraction less care would have left blood on my hands that very morning.

He did not move. He only widened his eyes at me, then smiled slowly, as if fate had set before him a new toy.

“Hm.” His voice dropped, rough and promising. “So you do like to play.”

“Move or the next blade will not find wood,” I snarled, chin raised.

“Dangerous,” he purred, easing himself from the bed. “I like that.” He laughed shortly, an insolent spark yet oddly pulling.

“So, instead of telling me thank you for warming your bed, you chase me off? Ungrateful, are you not?”

“Warming my bed?” I scoffed. “You defiled it, and with the first harlot you found, as though you had nowhere else to set your lust.”

He feigned outrage, pressing a hand to his heart. “First harlot? I am wounded. My standards are exceedingly high.”

“So high you cannot even find your own chambers?” I cut in.

His smile lengthened, dangerous and languid. He stepped close, deliberately slow, like a predator toying with its quarry.

“Perhaps I was not mistaken in my chambers’ choice,” he said. “Perhaps it was your bed that chose me.”

“My bed?” I lifted an eyebrow and fixed him with my gaze. I drew another dagger from the sheath at my thigh.

“And again you would try to stab me?” he asked, tilting his head as if it amused him. “Surely that is not fitting for an heiress.”

“Then forgive me if I disappoint you, but I pay no heed to what heiresses should do,” I said.

He halted so near I felt the warmth of him and that clean, storm-swept scent. He smirked and I gripped the dagger tighter to keep from stepping back.

“In that case,” he whispered, “maybe we are not so unlike. Veymaris? Am I right?”

I ground my teeth to keep from falling into his snare.

“Enter my chambers uninvited once more, and you will sleep not in my bed, but in the crypt.”

Instead of fear, he only skimmed past me, no more than inches away, and left the room in his open shirt and tousled hair. I heard his heavy footfalls on the stone as he walked away.

In the doorway stood Roderick, his face the very picture of astonishment. After the stranger had gone, Roderick said, “The Lady’s father had spoken of finding a suitor. I did not think the Lady would take to the matter so swiftly.”

I was going to lose my mind.

“Roderick, one more word and I will drown you in a basin,” I told him, and went to draw the knife from the headboard. Roderick, watching me, merely chuckled softly.

“Ah, the youth of today.”

Chapter

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