Page 288 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Marlana rolled her eyes, shaking her head in apparent exasperation. “Ugh, what a bore. It’s been months, Draz. She must be tired of your cock and those pretty little fingers of hers by now, brother.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I glanced toward Adrastos and found his expression carved from granite, dark eyes fixed somewhere far away.

The witch let out a riotous peal of laughter. “Don’t look so scandalized.” She sauntered forward, plucking at the drawstring of my scrubs, terror rooting me in place. “Pleasure is a point of pride among The Six—” She slid her fingers beneath the hem of my shirt, my pulse quickening, knees locking. “—and you’ve adapted marvelously, darling. Pleasing the prince is a feat in itself.”

I did my best to keep the shock off my face, unwilling to look away from the threat running her fingers over the soft skin of my stomach long enough to search his eyes for answers.

Lips hovering an inch from mine, Marlana purred, “Not even his little harem can keep him satisfied on the best days. Color me impressed. If he weren’t so territorial, you could fetch a pretty penny for your services should you ever need capital.” She palmed my hip, her skin cold, breath sickly sweet in my nose like overripe fruit.

Adrastos lashed out with a growl, wrapping a hand around my arm and yanking me back.

“Enough, Marlana. If you require a plaything, you pay for it. This pet is accounted for.”

She cackled, maniacal, like a cat toying with prey. “You never learned to have any fun,” she complained, twisting her amusement into a dramatic pout. “Moros at least knows the pleasure of sharing.”

“I’m more partial to killing anyone who touches what’s mine,” he deadpanned.

“And yet you let him hump that little pixie of a woman. What’s her name? The brunette?”

Fi. Heat drained from my face, and I wasn’t sure whether it was the echo of Marlana’s hands on me or the mention of Fiona.

“She was your prized pet for a while, now, wasn’t she?”

“Fiona has her own willpower,” Adrastos said, unbothered by the needling. “She made her choice.”

“And no longer shares your bed?” Marlana asked sardonically, brows pinched in disbelief.

“I don’t fuck my brother’s leftovers,” he drawled, sighing as he tucked me behind him. I gaped at the side of his face. Gross. “I grow bored of this, sister. Besides, my pet needs to wash before the king arrives or she’ll be of no use.”

I scowled, fighting the urge to sniff myself, but Barry was shoving me toward the washroom while Marlana walked her fingers up her brother’s arm in a way that sent bile climbing my throat. Got it.

“Very well, you great bore.” She turned toward the door, tossing a hand over her shoulder with a singsong, “Ta-ta! I’ll see you soon!”

The three of us stood in stiff silence as the witch retreated, the door clicking shut behind her.

“What did she⁠—”

“Shower, witchling,” Adrastos said coldly. With no further explanation, he marched out.

Barry said nothing—pity in his eyes, jaw tight as one big hand rose like he might cradle my face before he thought better of it. Instead, he brushed something from my shoulder and stuffed it into his pocket. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he dipped his chin curtly and followed his cousin.

My hands shook as I slipped into the modern sundress—lavender, with butterflies shimmering along the hem and flowy, flirtatious cap sleeves.

Not what I would pick to seduce a man. More like Beltane breakfast with the girls, but whatever.

They were still shaking as I braided my hair over one shoulder, fastened the straps of my heels, and tried to gather myself in front of the door.

The memory of that woman’s touch sent acid climbing my throat. I forced it back down.

When I finally tugged the door open, I froze on the threshold. Because it wasn’t Barry waiting for me.

Adrastos wore a slick onyx suit, black button-down tucked in beneath a leather belt. His left arm was tucked under his right elbow, fist pressed to his lips as his eyes scoured over me.

This evaluation didn’t make my skin bristle the way Moros’ so often did. It reminded me of… Mags, ironically. The way she’d look at me after I resurfaced from a particularly gnarly wipeout in waves we probably shouldn’t have been surfing in the first place.

His throat worked. Then he dipped his chin, turned without a word, and headed down the hallway.

My eyes narrowed on his back. I imagined how satisfying it would sound if I chucked one of these silver butterfly heels at him.