Page 40 of The Rook

“Such fragile skin,” he whispered, tracing Tempest’s cheekbone. She pulled her blade from her hip, the soft hiss filling the air, but he didn’t move away and neither did she.

“I am not as fragile as you think,” Tempest said, her voice just as quiet as Pyre’s whisper had been.

His finger drifted to her throat, and he lightly caressed her. “I keep coming back to you,” he murmured. He leaned closer, his breath whispering over her forehead. The throb of his pulse picked up speed at the base of his throat, and she licked her lips. He watched the movement, and a thrill raced through her.

You’re a fool. Fight. Do something. Don’t you dare give in.

He smiled—a genuine, gentle smile, rather than a mischievous grin or a sarcastic, knowing smirk—and then his mouth drifted closer. Lips brushed against lips, and as Tempest took a breath, he stole hers.

Pyre pressed closer, his mouth opening over hers, tasting her, a soft flicking of his tongue over her mouth.Wicked hell.Her eyes snapped open, and she felt the press of his chest against her palms, her blade sandwiched between her right hand and his chest as she held him at bay. But it was all an illusion. If the Jester wanted to take more, he could, but the kitsune didn’t.

Her fingers flexed against his torso, and she gasped as the muscles of his chest contracted beneath her palms. An odd sound rose in her throat. A bloody sigh. She was kissing him, allowing him to kiss her.

As though he sensed her distance, Pyre drew back, his amber eyes scanning her face. His brows slashed together before his eyes narrowed. He caught her face in his hands, andthen his mouth swooped down over hers. It was a claiming. The first full sweep of his tongue was a shock, and she tensed as he pressed her harder into the chair, his lips hungrily devouring her own.

Too much. Too far. He had to stop.

You’re losing yourself.

SEVENTEEN

Tempest

Tempest broke the kiss and slapped him. Her palm stung when she pulled it away, revealing that Pyre’s cheek was angry and red. Tempest glared at him, even though she was angrier at herself than anything. He’d played her, and she’d fallen right into his hands.

“How dare you—”

“How dare I?” he cut in heatedly. “Don’t act like I’m the villain here.”

Tempest’s palm tingled. Stars, she wanted to slap him again. “You’re the one who pinnedme. I didn’t ask for your unwanted attentions.”

“Unwanted attentions?”

His arrogance sluffed away, and his lovely eyes went blank as he stared at her. Her pulse pounded as he remained silent. She had expected him to be reproachful or sarcastic or laugh at her ‘over-reaction.’ Him doing nothing at all was a hundredtimes worse. Slowly, Pyre held up his hands and then turned tail. She gaped at his back as he yanked open the door and slammed it so hard the paintings on the walls rattled. Stunned, Tempest was frozen to the spot. She could still taste him on her lips. Her anger gathered along with adrenaline. How dare he storm away like that!

“This isyourfault!” she screamed at her door. Any normal human being couldn’t have heard her, but she was betting the Jester’s ears picked up her bellows. “Your fault…” she yelled again, limping over to her bed. She fell backward and slumped against the pillows as the adrenaline left her system just as quickly as it had appeared. Her arm stung like hell. Tempest lifted it up and stared at the raw flesh where Mal’s whip had cut it. That was going to need some mimkia, otherwise it would take weeks to heal. But part of her didn’t want to go near the drug ever again. Her shoulder, leg, and ankle would be fully healed over the next day or so because of the plant, as if the injuries had never been inflicted in the first place.

Like she’d never been attacked. Like the shifters hadn’t attacked her.

More and more, it felt as if her actions were tiny in the face of everything happening. If she did nothing, then things, of course, could only get worse, but when she actuallydidsomething to bring about change, it seemed as if that made her situation worse.

“Devil take you, Pyre,” she whispered, turning onto her side and clutching her aching arm to her chest. It took her far too long to realize the wetness on her face meant that she was crying.

For three days,Tempest avoided Pyre like the plague, though it wasn’t difficult. The kitsune had scarcely been around in the first place. She huffed. So much for a partnership. She’d been there for weeks and done nothing of consequence. If only she could get rid of Mal so easily. He’d been a thorn in her side since she’d challenged him in front of all the shifters. His presence only served to further distance herself from Pyre. The fact that Pyre had such an amoral person working for him as his right-hand man only lent further credit to her suspicion that the Pyre she met months before no longer existed, if he had existed at all, even then. The worst part was that she missed that man—the fun, playful fox with sparkling eyes and a wicked sense of humor.

Tempest explored the second floor, thankfully without a chaperone. While she loved Briggs and didn’t mind Brine, she was tired of being watched. She just wanted to be free to roam without being studied. She was jittery, but that was on the account of going nowhere near the training hall in days. Boredom did not suit her. Walking was not cutting it but at least no one bothered her. Persons of questionable reputation kept to their shadowy alcoves and doors. No one dared touch her, though she did receive a fair number of glares, scowls, and mutterings.

“As if it wasmyfault, blighted criminals,” Tempest bit out as a woman glared at her so hard she thought her hair would light on fire. She had not given her attackers up, and she was the one to save their lives. It was bloody unfair.

Life is unfair.Aleks’s voice echoed through her mind.

She smiled and wandered farther through the upper levels which were considerably more opulent. Tempest snuck through a gaudy, expansive ballroom, an attached kitchen of-sorts, and a handful of stupidly large bedrooms which she learned were currently unoccupied. With the masquerade fast approaching, she reasoned that most, if not all, of the bedrooms were reserved for important guests—heads of factions, brigands, smugglers, and the lot. If only she could be a fly on the wall. Tempest would bet her daggers that the rooms had secrets just like their owner.

She scowled at the mere thought of the Jester and stalked down a smaller corridor on her left, then another. Her mind wandered, and, by the time she got a good look around, she had no idea where she was. Winter’s bite. That was sloppy.

“Come on, Temp,” she muttered, tossing her head from side to side, trying to figure out where she was. The second floor was larger than she’d expected. She crept down the corridor as silently as was feasible. No need to alert anyone she was here.

Two voices speaking softly pulled her attention to an open doorway on her left. She slunk closer and paused, leaning against the wall.

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