Page 48 of Brutal Birthright

His jaw ticked as he fixed her with a stern look.

One that hopefully conveyed something other than how gorgeous she looked dressed in… fuck… not training attire. His eyes quickly took in the simple cream-coloured dress she wore, tied at her waist and with soft fabric that fell around her knees.

She let out a frustrated sound, trying to step past him, but his bulk filled the space.

“Just let me go. This is none of your concern.”

But the redness around her eyes told a different story. One that instantly made him want to hunt down whoever had caused her pain and inflict retribution triple-fold.

Voices drifted down from the open stairwell on the floor above them, coming from the direction of the library. At the risk of being seen, Rowan shifted into action before he could stop and make any kind of rational decision.

His palm wrapped around her arm and he portaled them both. Disappearing from the stairwell in the blink of an eye. When they reappeared, she was busy shoving at him and hissing to be let go. Little did she know a fight like that would only make his dick hard.

“What. Happened.” It wasn’t a question. He released his grip, but stood over her. The room was dark, but enough of the late evening glow from outside filtered through the window to highlight her face. Shoving his hands firmly in his pockets seemed like the safest option. Rowan couldn’t quite be sure of what other entirely insane thing he might do in her presence.

Oriana might freak out when she realised where he’d brought her. Better to leave them in the dark for now so to speak.

“It’s none of your concern. Just stupid rumours and gossip and nothing that I haven’t already heard a thousand times over.”

Her jaw jutted out in defiance, but those dark eyes refused to meet his own.

“Looks like they must be right then.”

That made her gaze snap to his in an instant—a tiny growl in her throat.

Rowan studied her closely. “Whatever they said, I’m sure they’re correct.”

A glint of gold flashed in her palm. The tip of her blade immediately connected with his sternum as she applied a light pressure and glared up at him. All heat and defiance and simmering rage.

Utterly captivating.

“You think they’re right? That I’m being favoured because the queen is my sister? That I should never have come here and that I should just fuck off back to the Darklands and hide in the mountains?”

Leaning forward, he added a little more pressure to the tip of the blade clutched in her fist.

“Hmm… maybe they’re correct in thinking that way, and you should leave. That way, you’d let all those assholes prove they were right about you all along. That you’re just a weak little faerie, with nothing but your sister’s name to fall back on.”

Oh, she was vibrating with anger now. All traces of the tears threatening to spill over had been eviscerated in the wake of the searing heat radiating off her.

“I swear, I’ll shove this blade so far up your ass…”

Rowan took that moment to strike. Disarming her and taking the blade in one fluid motion. She could produce a hundred more with her fae magic, they both knew that. But she allowed him to stand over her. Defiant as fuck and absolutely stunning.

“That anger you feel—channel that. Use it to your advantage. Don’t let them gain the upper hand.” He shifted forward and she backed up in the darkness. Awareness sparked in her dark eyes that they were very much alone. Mounting tension crackled in the space between them.

“You don’t know anything about how I feel.” Wide eyes bounced from his lips to his chest to the dimly lit room over his shoulder.

He clicked his tongue. Greedily he tracked the goosebumps that immediately coated her bare arms.

“You think I can’t tell the way your body responds because I’m not a creature who senses blood?” He slowly circled her. Studying her. His captive, trapped in a snare where the more she tried to struggle, the tighter it would bind her.

Rowan didn’t need to be a fucking shifter or a vampire to know exactly how her body responded to his magic and proximity.

His voice dropped low as he kept his gaze locked on her. “Your pupils dilate when your emotions run high. The flecks of gold shimmer brightest when you’re angry and about to foolishly lash out. That’s just one of your tells, little faerie.”

Coming back around to stand in front of her, he slid the tip of the fine blade along her sternum. Her almond eyes held his own as her body shuddered when the tapered point gently grazed against her skin.

“But when you feel something else… lust… desire… or high emotions of an equally intense nature… there’s a richness to those eyes of yours. And then there’s this…”

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