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At least until the asshole laughs.
He actually laughs, his shoulders shaking as he finally opens those eyes and directs them to me.
“Oh, queenling. You really don’t have much in the way of survival instincts, do you?”
I narrow my eyes. “Well, you promised you wouldn’t harm me, and you can’t lie.”
I am proud of myself for not adding a well-deserved so there.
“I promised you safety. There are a number of delightful things I could do to you that would leave you whole and hale.”
My entire body catches fire.
I tell myself it’s because of the blistering water.
Apparently, I can lie to my own mind, at least.
In the multitude of ways I could have responded, kicking him again is likely not the cleverest, but I’m tired, and it’s satisfying, so it’ll do.
“I’m not going to give you the hard fuck you’re asking for, queenling,” Ryther says. “I know you’re likely touch-starved, but if I were to bend you over right now, you’d only use it as a reason to cement your mistrust of me.”
My jaw falls. “What? I’m not?—”
He crooks an eyebrow again. “Your mind isn’t the only thing I can read.”
He’s unbelievable. I absolutely am not touch-starved, or sending him signals, or whatever else he’s insinuating. “I only kicked you because you’re very kick-worthy.”
“Keep going. See where that gets you.”
Not fucked, clearly.
Shit. I really hope he didn’t get that thought.
I straighten my spine proudly. “You’re being difficult. I only asked a reasonable question. In fact, I think I’m keeping it together quite well, given the bombs you people have dropped on me.”
“You are,” he admits. “And you know that your old world isn’t safe for you, or your friends, or your family, regardless of what you look like. Not with the power sleeping underneath your skin, and the blood running through your veins. No one will hesitate to rip you apart to take both from you. You also, rightly, already deduced that you can’t control your appearance. Just like you can’t control which thoughts you wish to keep to yourself, and which ones you want to share so brazenly.”
I can’t help it.
I kick him again.
When he smiles again, I know he’s fresh out of warnings.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ANY JURY WOULD ACQUIT ME OF HIS MURDER
Darina
I don’t even see him move; before I can blink, he’s standing right next to me, my eyes at the level of his hard, lean, and muscular chest.It's unfair, really, that he's just as gorgeous without clothes on. Not one imperfection mars his skin. He's a statue come to life, as immutable as marble.
His hand flashes to my neck, firmly holding it in place. He doesn’t dig his sharp fingers very deep, but I feel them. Something tells me if I so much as twitched, he’d clasp them around my throat.A quiver flutters, low in my belly.
“I want you to accept, without the shadow of a doubt, that you deserve this,” he growls against my ear.
I’m not trying to move. I only stare at him, my throat dry, breathless. What is he going to do to me? I’m at his mercy. There might not be a spell forcing me to obey him, but we’re alone, and naked, and in his camp.
“That you’ve all but begged forworse,” Ryther says. “But I’mnotgoing to give you what you truly crave, little bratty queenling. I don't reward misbehavior.”
