Page 71 of Threaded

“We cannot let you stay here for the rest of the night, Mariah. Not until we’re able to do a full sweep and make sure the entire wing is secure.”

Andrian watched her as she nodded again, that same absent movement she’d used earlier with Drystan, the heavy sheet of her slightly damp hair falling forward around her shoulders.

Sebastian glanced, almost nervously, around at the rest of the Armature, his gaze lingering for a moment too long on Andrian. “So … you’ll need to stay with one of us. It’s the only way we can ensure you’re safe.”

Andrian instantly went rigid.

It was irrational, this feeling; overwhelmingly stupid. But in that moment, he knew he would rather rip out his own teeth than let her stay with anyone other than him.

The possessive anger was intense, but the pure terror that followed it nearly washed him off his feet.

He wouldn’t tolerate her staying with anyone else. Wouldn’t be able to survive it, not that night. But … Andrian was also momentarily terrified thatshewould choose someone else. That he’d played his part too well, had actually managed to make her hate him as strongly as he’d convinced himself he despised her.

Gods … he didn’t hate her at that moment. Didn’t think he’d ever actually hated her.

Sebastian continued speaking.

“You are more than welcome to stay with m—”

“No.”

Mariah’s voice, for the first time that night, was strong and clear as it cut through Sebastian’s words. Andrian’s attention whipped to her, his heart thudding in his chest. A war raged inside his heart as she slowly turned her gaze to him, the incredible forest-green glimmering with the same tantalizing shadow that had haunted him since the gallery, the question in them unmistakable.

A question … anuncertainty. He read it on her face, as clear as the sky on a bright winter day. She was nervous, fearful that he would be the one to reject her next.

He should. If he had any strength left, any self-respect, a single decent bone left in his body, he would tell her to seek solace with those of her Armature who might actually be able to give it.

But he’d never been particularly good at being a decent man.

So, he pushed off from the doorway to her bedroom, his feet finally releasing him from where he’d been rooted. He stalked to her, watching her head slowly tip back as he neared, holding his gaze with that fierceness that drove him mad. Soon, he stood in front of her, jasmine and cedarwood razing through his mind. For three more heartbeats, he watched as her breaths began to deepen, the rise and fall of her chest becoming more and more pronounced. Then he bent down in front of her, swiped an arm behind her knees, and scooped her into his arms.

He almost grinned at the look of shock that flared across her face.

You asked for this, princess.

Andrian then strode back out of her bedroom, toward the exit to her suites, the sounds of the others beginning their sweep of her rooms already distant and muted to his ears.

CHAPTER34

Andrian’s rooms were directly across from hers.

The realization struck her with a jolt, questioning how she’d never noticed. She wondered if he’d just been unlucky or if he’d actually selected that room for himself.

The former, most likely.

Gripping her tight, he moved forward, the hand under her legs reaching out and twisting the handle, pushing open the nondescript wood. Andrian strode into the room, nudging the door closed behind them with a gentle kick. The space beyond the entryway was lit softly by twoallumechandeliers, just enough light to illuminate the space.

Andrian kept it tidy, but not pristine. It was open, with a door on the right wall Mariah assumed led to the bathing chamber. To the left of the entry was a kitchen, complete with a stovetop, sink, and storage. An island, much like her own, was currently adorned with an array of discarded weapons. Looking further into the room, Mariah saw a bed, its black sheets untucked and tousled, as if Andrian’s sleep had been fitful and disturbed before he’d arrived in the threshold of her room no more than a few moments after she’d killed the Uroboros. Between the island and bed was a square dining table, complete with four chairs, and against the back wall was a comfortable-looking chaise and bookshelves lined with volumes.

The room wasn’t large, and though she’d never been there before, something about the space felt familiar, comfortable. The magic and chaos still thrumming in her head and veins quelled, just slightly.

Andrian kept moving as she took in her surroundings, striding towards the island. He set her down, surprisingly gently, on the countertop, facing the bed and the rest of the room. Her back was to the kitchen, and the shock of the cold granite on her bare thighs had her suddenly aware of how little she wore, and goosebumps prickled instantly over her skin. He looked at her for a moment, his expression utterly unreadable—all traces of that little grin he’d flashed her back in her room nowhere to be found—before stalking to a crystal decanter on the end of the kitchen counter.

Mariah’s eyes tracked him, watched as the muscles in his back shifted beneath his skin with his steps, as he poured two glasses of dark liquor and walked back to where she sat on the island. Her gaze dropped, just once, to the dragon-shaped Mark right over his heart, the black ink bold against his tanned skin. There was a faint dusting of dark hair across his chest, and another line of black hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing beneath the waist-band of his pants—

Her stare snapped back to his face as he handed one of the glasses to her. Andrian stepped back and leaned against the edge of the dining table, crossing his legs in front of him, eyes never leaving hers as he took a deep drink of the liquor.

Mariah’s mouth went dry as she watched him. Nothing about him was real, wasfair. No one had the right to look like that—especially now, in the middle night, no more than minutes after she’d just thwarted a fuckingassassination. She raised her own glass to her lips, welcoming the burn of the alcohol.

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