Page 92 of Threaded

Just as hot tears began to prick behind her eyes, tightness clamping around her throat.

What the fuck? I do not cry.

Especially over hot, dark-haired assholes.

“Fine.” To her surprise, her voice came out strong, unwavering. “If that’s really how you feel, I assume you won’t have any issues with me seekingdistractionsfrom other members of my Armature.” She paused, letting the bravado of her words flow through her, using them to fill out the cruel smile she let play across her face. “I know any of them would be more than happy to oblige their queen.”

He’d hurt her, and she wanted to hurt him back.

Andrian only bared his teeth at her in a snarl. “You want to let the entire royal army fuck you? Be my guest; I couldn’t care less. Just keep yourself far from me, especially at the ball, and you can do whatever—or whoever—thefuckyou please.”

His words hung in the air above them like a dagger poised at Mariah, aimed right at her chest. Without another sound, Andrian turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor, away from her and the stacks of books surrounding her, the silence deafening.

Mariah pushed off the bookshelves, trying desperately to compose herself as she listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps.

The second they faded from earshot, she sank to her knees, letting the roiling hurt in her gut wash over her.

CHAPTER40

Mariah groaned into her pillow as the midday fall sunlight streamed through her window, burning her eyes despite its relative weakness.

She’d slept like shit the night before and refused to get out of bed until she absolutely had to.

With another soft moan, she rolled from her stomach onto her back, her arm flopping on the silk sheets beside her. Last night was the first night since the Uroboros attack that she’d slept in her own bed.

It was also the first night since the attack that she’d slept alone, but she refused to attribute her lack of sleep tothatminor detail.

Turning her head to glance out the window and the autumn light filtering in, she guessed it was sometime past noon. Based on the angle of the light, she saw the sun had already peaked on its course across the sky, had begun its descent back towards the horizon.

All she wanted to do was lay there, in her bed, all day.

She also refused to think about how getting out of bed and perhaps encountering a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed asshole made her stomach twist into tangled knots.

Don’t be an idiot, Mariah. Remember, love is a weakness.

She cringed at the thought, gritting her teeth so hard she worried they might crack.Not that you love him. He’s not worth the time.

Damn good fuck, though.

Heaving a sigh, she prepared to roll onto her side, but as soon as Mariah started the movement her body decided to revolt against her. A long, rumbling groan emitted from her stomach, reminding her of something she wasn’t quite sure how she’d forgotten.

Mariah hadn’t even gotten out of bed that morning toeat.

She turned her gritted teeth into a snarl. She wouldnotlet that asshole keep her from breakfast food.

Groaning one more time, she finally pushed the duvet back from her body and slipped out from under its decadent warmth. Mariah padded to the doors leading to the main living area, still dressed in the oversized maroon tunic she’d fallen into bed wearing, her dark hair hanging in a tangled mess down her back. Pushing open the doors, she was suddenly greeted by a rich, earthy smell emanating from the kitchen.

Her stomach let loose another low rumble just as she spotted the recognizable shock of orange hair pulled back with a bandana.

“Oi! Good mornin’, lassie! Or should I say … good evenin’?” Mikael’s head bobbed up from where he stood by the stove, stirring a pot that must be the source of the outrageously tantalizing smell.

Mariah smiled brilliantly at him. Right now, with her stomach panging angrily against her ribs, Mikael was perhaps the most important person in the world to her.

“Good evening, Mikael. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She stepped further into the living space, making a beeline to the kitchen and taking a seat at one of the bar stools as she watched him continue to stir the contents of the pot. “What deliciousness have you cooked up today?”

“Well, I knew that you slept right through breakfast—so sorry about that, I know how much you love my waffles”—she groaned at the thought of the incredible pastries—“and with tonight’s upcoming event, I figured you could use a good, hearty meal. So, my family’s special beef stew is what you’re getting. And if you don’t eat everything I put in front of you, not only will I be hurt, but I’m afraidhemight try to force feed it to you.”

He?

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