Page 63 of Threaded

With a sudden, frustrated sound, Andrian released his grip on her throat, pushing off the wall in a single smooth motion before turning on his heel. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he threw his next words over his shoulder, as if careless where they might land.

“Never crazy enough for that,nio. Not even if the whole world was crashing down around me.”

He continued for the door as Mariah slumped back against the wall, watching him go. She idly reached a hand up to her neck, tracing the ghostly feeling the imprint of his fingertips had left, watching the muscles of his broad back shift as he marched away. Confusion prickled under her skin, but she didn’t let it surface; choosing instead to stare after him, not wanting to miss a single step until he left the gallery.

And, sure enough, just before he stepped through the ancient wood doors, he paused, turning just enough to shoot a glance over his shoulder, his dark hair falling errantly into his eyes. Their eyes clashed, just for a moment, but Mariah saw everything she needed to see. She smiled softly to herself as he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him on those gods-awful hinges.

Crazy enough, indeed.

CHAPTER29

The creaky fucking hinges on those ancient doors were almost enough to make Andrian turn and land a kick that would’ve splintered the wood into thousands of pieces.

Almost. But he didn’t.

Because if he did, that would mean risking another glance at the heated look in those forest-green eyes, the light likely still filtering off her skin, making the cursed shadows in his blood sing in response …

Fuck. He had to just keep walking.

It had felt so like that moment in the library, when he’d caught her with some ridiculously titled book. The heat that flared in her gaze had his own body responding like a damn horny teenager, the draw between them suddenly magnetic.

Not only was it fucking frustrating, but for him, it was forbidden.

That’s probably why you can’t resist the temptation, asshole.

He didn’t know why he’d followed Mariah down that abandoned corridor. But when he’d spotted her stalking through the palace hallways, his shadows hiding him from her view, he’d been lured in by that curious look of determination on her face. It was like she’d been searching for something, but didn’t quite know what.

He didn’t let himself think about how accurate that feeling might’ve been.

However, hedefinitelyhadn’t meant to follow her into that old, abandoned gallery.

But he also started to realize his judgment vanished like smoke on a breeze around her.

He shook his head, growling low in his throat as he stormed down the palace corridor, desperate to put some distance between her and himself. He wound up staircases, through resplendent archways, past opulent gardens, until he was no longer sure where exactly in the palace he was.

Gods, this palace was fucking ridiculous. He’d lived here most of his life and the sight of all the gold and wealth made him sick.

And now, it wasn’t the only thing that was making him queasy.

Get her out of your mind. You got yourself into this mess by letting yourself get Selected, but for gods-sake, youmusthave the self-control to not make this worse.

It was a speech he’d repeated to himself over and over, a litany he clung to with everything he had.

But every time he thought about how she’d bonded with Sebastian, and now Quentin, and how something may have,musthave happened with one or both of them, irrational rage heated his bloodstream and twisted his stomach into violent knots.

He wasn’t jealous. He was no fool; he knew as well as the rest of them what being a member of a Queen’s Armature meant, how those bonds were formed, what feelings the ritual elicited. And he wasn’t blind, either—he could see with his own eyes nothing romantic lingered between Mariah and the two who were now bonded to her.

But … it was just the thought of someone elsetouchingher. When he’d looked into her eyes, when his hand was wrapped around the soft skin of her neck, her cheeks flushed that infuriating shade of cherry red, he’d been overwhelmed with the feeling that she was his, that no one could touch her skin or see that blush except for him.

Fucking ridiculous, all of it.

He shivered, clenching his fists tighter as he pushed his steps faster, stomping up the latest flight of stairs. It was taking every ounce of his control, every mental wall he’d built for so long to keep himself from running back to the dark-haired girl with the glowing skin and forest green eyes and doallthe things to her that were currently racing through his head. All she’d just teased him with.

That was the final straw. Andrian had to get out of that palace.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned right down the hallway and headed west. He was a little turned around, but he knew he would eventually find an exit, the stables, and a horse that could take him into the city. Once there, who knew; maybe he’d find a seedy tavern, drown out his miseries with shitty ale and poor company.

His pace quickened, his resolve set. Until the sound of voices stopped him dead in his tracks, all thoughts of distraction from a certain dark-haired queen fleeing from his mind.

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