Page 138 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

That’s all she needed, to be mixed up with the chief commander’s son. She’d known that his incredible build and cocky grin had to mean something. Her father would certainly kill her now. Murk Baxgroll needed the respect of his fellow prime members. There had always been rules about that. No relationships with any other faction member, only wolves.

And if her brothers found out…

Oh, sweet, fucking Vanadey of Life and Beauty.

She was always told never to mix business with pleasure.

She couldn’t go there. She wouldn’t go there again. Not now that she knew she had taken a lover that could quite possibly be the chief commander of this kingdom one day.

However, it was sure as shit that the Gods were testing her tonight. One question found itself rolling around in her mind: Why was everyone else so boring?

She took another sip of her drink.

“The structure of your face is simply stunning.” the man said. He’d been talking at her non-stop for the last ten minutes, and was too stupid or arrogant to notice it was clearly falling on deaf ears.

Scraping her gaze from an inky warrior, she smiled at the man. “I know.”

Surprise flickered in his too-close-together eyes. “It’s not ladylike for a woman to be aware of her beauty,” the man said as he tipped a glass to his lips. His pinky finger stuck out in a manner that revealed his privileged upbringing, and as he took a sip of his champagne, a diamond ring winked under the lights. “Did your mother never inform you of such things? A man does not find it attractive.”

Bringing her full attention back to the conceited son of a bitch, she flicked her hand under the bottom of his glass and the crystal flute fell an inch from his lips, spilling tinted liquor onto his pretentiously white dress jacket.

“Did your mother never tell you not to miss your mouth when sipping champagne? That could stain your expensive dress jacket, you know,” she said, only just managing to keep the rage that burned in her veins at bay. “My mother was a wolf. She didn’t teach me anything. But what my father—the Alpha of Caledorna—taught me was to eat the hearts of wealthy men that can’t keep their ancient opinions to themselves.” She paused, looking at him from head to toe, then threw him a heart-stopping smile, every tooth bared.

A mix of mortification and rage burned in his face. “You distasteful bitch.” He pulled on her arm, dragging her a little closer. She didn’t flinch; she snarled into her smile. “If I had realised you were a wolf, I would have just offered you a coin to start with instead of buttering you up with small talk. Afterall, wolves do tend to take a cheap rate.”

“Coin?” A broken scoff turned into blistering anger on her mouth. “You think I am a whore?”

“You are not exactly dressed to convince me otherwise.” His beady little eyes roamed her body, sending hot, deadly rage around her veins. She could feel the sharpness of her claws elongating in her fingertips. “I thought the Supreme had sent us gifts this winter. I would have paid a lot of money to see your pretty mouth—”

“I would rather choke and die,” she cut him off, her voice fierce and sharp.

He clearly didn’t believe that her father was the Alpha. Either that or his arrogance dumbed his brain.

“That’s a shame.” He laughed. The revolting sound made every wolf instinct in her body prickle to attention. The wolf was ready to pounce. “You could have been a smart girl and used your head to earn some money. But instead, you opened your uneducated mouth too soon. You wolves are always the same. However, you do have an unbelievable rear for someone of low class, though.” He sniggered; his nose high in the air.

“You ought to be careful to go around insulting low-class women like me.” She offered him a feral look. “Do you know how deep we bite? And as for my ass, I didn’t get that by sitting on it like your foolish highbred mother or naive wife. I work for everything I have. I don’t need your coin.”

The elite male finished off his glass of champagne before sliding a hand into his silk-lined pocket, his dark hair shining with ointment. “You see, I don’t mind a little biting. But what I would prefer is silence and restraint. That’s what makes a woman bearable. It’s something you should practise, even if you do have an unbelievable ass.”

Before she could swipe her long claws across his throat, a gruff voice came from behind her. “That is where you are mistaken.”

Breighly turned to see Artem Stryker standing behind them. One of the fastenings on this tunic had opened to reveal his thick, inked throat.

“Do you want to know what I think is a deadly combination in a woman?” His perfect eyebrow lifted before she saw a little danger burn in his eyes. He stopped short of the elite man, whom he towered above, his broad shoulders squared and strong. “Intelligence, which she clearly has, since she isn’t entertaining the likes of you.” He paused. “Humour, which she also clearly has, since that expensive champagne has made its way down your stupid jacket,” he continued as he pulled a blade from his belt and twirled it in his skilled fingers. The act made Breighly’s heart work at a rate she had never felt before, pounding against her chest. The glittering of his golden-brown eyes were a little warmer as he looked over her face and then back to the elite male. “But what I appreciate most of all in a woman is when she can throw a better punch than my own.”

She tried to hide the hitch in her breathing. She had never had a male compliment her abilities before, only her body. Even if he was complimenting violence, a tremor ran through her body.

That was another thing she was going to add to the healer’s list—to stop being aroused by men who were primal in their approach to life and appreciated violence just as much as she did. It would never end well.

“Artem,” she tried to stop him, but he ignored her and continued to palm the knife in his large, inked hand.

“In case all of that exorbitant education has failed you, she is the one with the hard-as-granite punch that will knock you on your back. Not to mention those sharp little claws.” He paused, pinging a quick look in her direction, and it didn’t take much to know what he was insinuating. “So I am going to suggest you apologise to her now for the way you have spoken to her.” He bowed his head slightly. “And I won’t allow her to knock you out.”

Breighly flicked her eyes to Artem. “Won’t allow her? You can’t tell me I am not allowed to punch him.” Her head angled. “If I wanna punch him, I will.”

His eyes pulled from her face and a grin formed as he looked back towards the male, whose pompous attitude had now diminished slightly. “You clearly have no idea who she is, or you wouldn’t be manhandling her like that.” His dark gaze turned vicious as he looked down at the mark on Breighly’s arm where his hand had been. “You better start that apology now,” Artem seemed to growl.

The elite male straightened. His gaze dragged from Artem to Breighly as his nose hitched into the air in a way that only the wealthy could. He wiped down his suit and raised his chin. Looking down his nose, he said, “I am sorry that you gave me the impression you were interested.”

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