Page 16 of Brutal Birthright

Look, but do not fucking touch.

Oriana quickly fastened her trousers and continued to shoot daggers from her eyes. “I’m well aware the tattoo is unfinished, ok? But each scale has meaning to me. It represents a moment when I could have taken a life and chose not to.”

Why was the girl babbling?

“It reminds me that even though I might have been able to end a life, in the heat of the moment, I didn’t. It gives me something to cling to on the days when I don’t want to face who I am or what I have been trained for.”

Her chest was heaving, and her eyes slightly wild. Goddess knows she looked like fire, ready to consume anything in her path. Untamed passion shimmered through her aura.

As usual, words were of no use in a moment like this. He poked his tongue against the side of his cheek, weighing the right thing to do. Actions were the only language one could genuinely rely on. And in this instance, he didn’t trust himself not to say something they’d both regret.

Shoving his pants off, he kicked them over to join his shirt and made for the water’s edge. Careful to make sure the little fae saw nothing but the back of him. He muttered curses to himself; the fact his cock seemed to have ideas of its own was fucking inconvenient, to say the least.

Behind him, the girl also swore under her breath.

As he dove headfirst into the water, he was left with Oriana’s departing words ringing in his ears. Ones he agreed with wholeheartedly.

“You’re just a fucking brute.”

Ri was ready to bite someone’s head off. The way Rowan just stood there and studied her. In total silence. What a complete and utter pig.

He’d said nothing, as usual. Instead, his eyes dropped to her tattoo in silent assessment, as if he was judging her—which was even more infuriating due to the fact he was the one without a spare inch of skin left unmarked by ink—then stripped off and walked away. Heading into the water without so much as a word.

Who did that?

Rowan of Nocturne. Apparently.

Leaving her flustered as fuck and with her pulse thundering in her throat. There was something about being the subject of his scrutiny that turned her body into a molten mess. The intensity of his gaze anytime she had the misfortune to be consumed by it was like being thrown into the midst of a pulverising storm.

One she couldn’t ever seem to claw her way out of.

Even more embarrassing was how she’d been unable to stop herself from spilling her guts all over the lake’s edge. Telling him something so vulnerable and personal within seconds. What a complete moron. She wanted to stab herself in the hand.

Ri couldn’t even wrap her mind around the sight of his bared back, shoulders, ass… every flawless inch of the man was covered in an intricate network of designs. Thousands of them crawled over his skin and flexed as he moved. No colour. All were various shades of midnight black, ash, and onyx.

His lethal body was a work of art.

One that had now seared itself into her memory with every ripple and flex of taut muscle.

She collapsed into the empty seat beside Brynne. Who, of course, had been the consummate student and arrived early at the herbarium for their morning class. Her books already laid out neatly on the long wooden bench, the sprite softly hummed away to herself as she devoured the pages. What a psychopath.

“Spirits. You really do get off on this shit, don’t you?” Ri huffed out a breath and slapped the stack of textbooks down in front of her. From the reading list and course materials they had been advised would be necessary for herbalism classes, she already knew this year would be painful indeed.

At least an afternoon spent at the training arena would be filled with opportunities to swing a blade at someone and maybe land a punch or two.

Preferably while picturing Rowan’s face on the receiving end.

At least that would give her something to focus on, other than imagining her tongue tracing over every inch of his tattooed skin.

“Good morning, welcome to your herbalism class.” A stunning vampiress with silky brown curls and startling green eyes appeared out of thin air in the centre of the herbarium. She cradled a stack of books in her arms, which she set down on the far end of the benchtop.

The high-domed glass structure was filled with all sorts of plant species, with several long benches occupying the centre of the space. It felt like a cross between a laboratory and a rainforest, with the class seated around the longest sides of each workbench. An assortment of strange-looking glass vials and oddly shaped equipment lined the middle of each bench, with enough of each that they were obviously going to become well accustomed to using whatever contraptions these might be.

“We’ll be guiding you through your classes for the year.” She flashed a bright smile around the room, then turned to the mountain of a vampire who mysted into the space without warning and appeared behind her. His scowl did nothing to hide how ridiculously handsome he was. “This is Professor Acemodeus, and you can call me Professor Nelloix. I will give you all a pass on formalities because calling me Professor Acemodeus-Hunter is a mouthful of torment I don’t wish to inflict upon any of you.”

A round of laughter billowed up from the room.

With an added twinkle in her eye, she whispered loudly, “And yes, this is one of my fated mates… I promise he’s capable of more than just scowling at you all.”

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