Page 62 of Threaded

Mariah whirled, her brows pushing together in a scowl, to find Andrian standing no more than a few feet from her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark pants as he leaned against a tall marble statue of the Consort God, Priam.

“What’re you doing here?” Her voice was biting as she narrowed her gaze.

Rage pounded in her skull, but not solely at him. She hated being snuck up on, and was more furious with herself for allowing him to get that close without her realizing.

Andrian chuckled darkly. “I saw the door open”—he gestured behind him with a tilt of his head to where the wooden doors were still ajar—shit—“and decided to see who was interested enough in an abandoned wing of the palace to break in.” He flitted his gaze down her body, an unreadable look in his eyes. “Imagine my surprise at finding none other than our little queen dirtying her hands in some old, dusty, forgotten gallery. Didn’t take you for a fan of art or history,nio.”

“Were you following me?” She didn’t know why she asked the question, but … for some reason, she wouldn’t put it past him.

His blue gaze flashed. “Trust me, princess, the last thing I want to do is follow you around this palace when I’m off duty,” he growled, pushing off the statue and stalking a single step closer to her.

Mariah straightened her spine, tensing at his movement. “So you’re telling me it’s a simple matter ofchancethat you happened to find yourself in the same abandoned wing of the palace?” She scoffed. “Surely, you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that.”

Instead of answering her, Andrian only pressed his full lips into a thin line, meeting her glare unwaveringly. Before she could stop herself, she felt her eyes begin to roam over him, distracted by the sudden, tense silence.

Goddess, he was outrageously attractive. Toned muscle filled out his tall frame, the thin material of his long-sleeved gray shirt pulled taut over his skin. His brilliant tanzanite-blue gaze glinted with something she couldn’t quite place but felt a lot like a challenge, and the longer he held her stare, the more the line of his mouth relaxed into a slightly crooked grin. She noticed his medium-length raven-black hair looked nothing short of roguish and even more unkempt than usual, as if hands had been run through it recently and repeatedly.

Either his hands, or … someoneelse’s.

The flare of jealousy that ripped through Mariah at the thought was enough to almost knock her off balance, swaying slightly where she stood. Andrian watched her subtle movement, but didn’t say a word.

What the fuck?

She wasn’t one to get jealous.Ever. She didn’t want people to care about what she did behind closed doors, and she returned the courtesy. But the feelings washing through her like a damn torrent … they were uncontrollable. A raging riptide she had to get a grip on before the devil standing before her caught on to what was racing through her mind.

Suddenly, the hands she’d imagined running through his hair to make it so tousled became hers. Just as quickly as it arrived, that wave of jealousy retreated, replaced by somethingverydifferent.

Enfara, damn this.

“You seem distracted,nio. Something on your mind?”

Mariah again wished that voice could’ve been a bucket of cold water poured over her. However, all it did was further light the fires in her veins, her blood turning to molten lava as heat dropped swiftly into her stomach,lower.

Get a fucking grip, Mariah.

“I’m only wondering why, exactly, you chose to stalk me today. Considering you refuse to tell me what you’re doing here, I have to assume that’s what’s happening.”

Andrian bared his teeth at her in a cruel smile. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you what I’m doing here, princess, because it’s none of your Goddess-damnedbusiness.”

Mariah shrugged. “Fine. Keep your secrets. See if I care.” She cast her glance to the paintings around her, turning her back to Andrian with her best attempt at dismissive ambivalence.

Without warning, a warm mass slammed into her, spinning her around and pinning her shoulders to the wall beside the silver canvas. Andrian’s eyes were blazing now, his mouth twisted into a snarl as he wrapped a large hand around her throat, his other arm resting on the wall behind them, caging her in. Mariah’s magic instantly leaped into her veins, rising to her skin, subtle silver-gold light drifting into the air around them. Andrian’s gaze darted swiftly from hers to the magic filtering off her skin, a growl rumbling in his chest as he again met her stare.

“You knownothingof my secrets,nio. All I wanted was some peace and quiet, away from the chaos you’ve brought into this city. But, of course, the gods are cruel and couldn’t even afford methattoday.” He leaned closer to her, his warm breath tickling her cheek. “You have no idea how much your presence in this palace is driving me fuckingcrazy.”

Goddess, save me.

The warmth in Mariah’s core was back, and flames licked up her spine. She arched her back, pushing herself slightly closer to him, suddenly finding herself craving his heat, his unpredictability, his anger.

She’d spent so many years chasing after distractions.

And as she found herself pinned against the wall in an abandoned gallery, she also found herself craving a new one.

Perhaps it was time for a little …experiment.

“Hm,” she breathed, purposefully dropping her gaze to his full lips, the white teeth that were still bared in a snarl. “I wonder. Howcrazy, exactly, does me being here drive you?” She returned her eyes to his own, the wild blue blazing. “Crazy enough to show me?”

Her last words were barely more than a whisper, and for several, too-long heartbeats they stared each other down, sharing breath as she let him read every craving she felt for him in the pit of her stomach. She could've sworn she felt him leaning closer to her, pushing her further into the wall, the evidence of the effect of her words on him pressing firmly into her stomach …

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