Page 8 of Twisting Beauty

A second later he edged his knee between my legs and held it there, pressing into me, claiming the space without asking. Heat shot through me so fast it made me furious.

I kept my face still. “And I liked you better when I thought you were a bad hallucination, Lorcan.”

He studied me, looking for a crack. Looking for the old Rua, maybe. The one he expected to melt for him.

Fuck him.

I shoved him, hard enough to win myself a sliver of space. “Back off, brother.”

The word landed between us like a slap.

His expression changed. The heat in his eyes went vicious. He stepped in again, but a throat clearing from the doorway cut through.

Over his shoulder, Mervyn stood there in black tails, silver-haired and straight-backed, carrying a gleaming tray at chest height.

Lorcan leaned close one last time. “This isn’t over.”

Then he turned and walked out.

Relief moved through me, sharp and shaky, because at least for now Lorcan was gone.

I forced every muscle in my face to go smooth, rolled my shoulders back, and pulled Rua’s coldness over myself like armor. “Mervyn.”

“Welcome home, Miss Rua. I brought coffee.” Mervyn set the tray on a side table near me, nudging a canvas aside with practiced ease.

Mervyn straightened, his flat, colorless stare analyzing me.

“Coffee. Fantastic,” I said, reaching for the cup with more confidence than I felt. The dark smell hit me hard enough to make me hesitate. “No sugar?”

Mervyn frowned. “You never take it with sugar.”

The correction landed with the soft precision of a knife laid against skin.

Ah fuck. Rua took her coffee with a splash of milk, no sugar.

“Right,” I said, and let out a small laugh that sounded wrong the moment it left my mouth. I poured in a careful splash of milk, aware of his gaze on every movement, aware that one too many or one too little might matter in this house more than it should.

The first sip coated my tongue in bitter heat and every muscle in my face tried to betray me. I swallowed it anyway, then shaped my mouth into something cool and distant. “Just as I like it, Mervyn.”

The second his back turned, I tipped the coffee into the potted violets on the bedside table, watching the dark liquid disappear into the soil around its dark-purple blooms as if I were burying evidence.

He turned back, and I had to pretend I was drinking the coffee again.

Mervyn watched me closely, his gaze sharp. “Master Lasair will be relieved his daughter is stronger this term.”

The words came out polished and proper, but they carried weight. He was not only welcoming me home. He was measuring whether the version of me standing in front of him matched the one this house had sent away.

I forced a bigger smile, then remembered that Rua wouldn’t smile so much at the staff. She’d been withdrawn, distant, lost in her own world.

I cleared my throat and let ice creep into my voice. “That is all, Mervyn.”

I watched him leave, all straight-backed and moving like an automaton. I understood with a fresh wave of unease that Mervyn might serve me coffee, but he still ultimately served Alistair.

I could not afford to let my guard down around him or anyone else in this house. Every room watched. Every object seemed to remember. Every person might already know more than they should.

I had walked into Rua’s life thinking the danger lived in Alistair and Lorcan.

But the truth was, the whole house was a threat.