Page 72 of Serpent King's Prisoner

We crossed the threshold, and the door closed behind us with a click that echoed through the silent house.

Nathan’s grip on my arm wasn’t painful, but it was possessive, reminding me of the delicate balance I was forced to maintain. He guided me up the stairs like I couldn’t navigate them myself, and then into a room full of lush greenery…and a bed. His bedroom was like a jungle, beautiful and filled with natural light and green leaves.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, then stepped into what I thought must have been a closet.

I waited, my gaze drinking in the luxurious room. Countless plants transformed what might have otherwise looked like a sterile space into a gorgeous, green oasis.

And it smelled really good, too.

Until I remembered these plants were probably fertilized by human remains.

“Where is this present?” I asked, looking around, hoping to spot a box or something somewhere, but there was nothing for me. Everything was so meticulously tidy, absolutely nothing out of place. “If it was the block of knives downstairs, that’s quite the upgrade from that shitty little shiv I made.”

He laughed again. “No,” he said. “But you did give me an idea.”

“What?”

“Take off your clothes,” he said, and he emerged from the closet pushing a rack of brand new designer clothes. “I want you to try some things on for me.”

Chapter Thirty-Four: Nathan

Icouldn’t tear my gaze off her.

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as Abby rifled through the array of clothes laid out before her. The room was filled with the rustle of fabric and an electric anticipation that I tried to ignore.

“I picked out a couple of things myself,” I said, watching her carefully. “But I got a personal shopper to handle most of it.”

She lifted a black dress, running her fingers over the silk that caught the evening light spilling through the window. I couldn’t help but watch her, the way her green eyes danced across each item. It was like she was touching parts of me without even knowing it.

The effect she had on me…it was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

Why did I want her to like this so much? To like me? It pissed me off, this need for approval clawing its way up from somewhere deep inside me. I wasn’t a man who sought validation from others; my name alone commanded respect—or fear—without me having to utter a single word.

“Did you have any particular theme in mind with these?” Her voice broke through my thoughts, laced with a subtle hint of curiosity beneath her detachment.

“Let’s just say I wanted options,” I replied, forcing a casual shrug. I leaned back on my palms, my eyes never leaving her. “For different occasions.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, almost a smile, but not quite. It irked me that I noticed such small changes in her expression, that I cared if she was pleased or not.

“I see,” she murmured, pulling out a deep red blouse and holding it against her. My breath hitched. Damn, she’d look good in that. Too good. “So you’re planning on taking me out?”

“I plan on doing whatever I’d like with you,” I shoot back.

She laughed softly, then sobered, chewing on her lip as her eyes darted toward mine.

“Then we’ll need a solid story.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture as if bracing for a confrontation she knew too well. “A cover. If you don’t want the cops on your tail or my father getting suspicious.”

Her words pulled me out of the web of desire ensnaring my thoughts. I smirked at her, appreciating the way her mind shifted gears, always thinking two steps ahead. It was one of the things that made her different, made her stand out in a world where most people couldn’t see past their own noses.

“Strategic thinking. I like that,” I admitted with a nod. “It’s smart. You got that from your old man?”

“Being a cop’s daughter teaches you a few things,” she replied, the ghost of a smile touching her lips as she folded the blouse neatly and set it aside. “Including how to keep stories straight.”

“Good,” I said, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly. “Because we’ll need that sharp mind of yours if this is going to work.”

She met my gaze squarely, green eyes steady, and I saw the flicker of respect in them. For a moment, I forgot about the clothes, about wanting her approval, about this game we were playing. In that instant, there was just the raw acknowledgment of two adversaries recognizing each other’s worth.

And damn if that didn’t turn me on even more.

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