Page 42 of The Rook

Tempest froze.

She turned her face away from Mal’s, breaking the kiss as the cogs of her brain turned wildly.

It can’t be.

He twisted his fingers through her hair and began planting gentle but desperate kisses down her neck once again. It wasn’t just that his lips had felt familiar.

They were exactlythe same.

Tempest began to shake uncontrollably—from anger, from disbelief. Mal lifted his head, icy eyes warm for the first time. His love-drunk expression faded, and a frown formed between his brows.

It couldn’t be true.

Using his temporary distraction to her advantage, she wriggled free, leapt to her feet, and ran a shaking hand through her hair. How had she not seen it before? Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Nyx had disappeared. Her gaze darted back to the man in question who stood and brushed out the wrinkles in his clothing like he’d not been minutes away from tumbling her.

“You deceitful liar!” she whispered.

Mal’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with you now?”

“Don’t talk down to me like that! Just stop pretending! I’m so sick of the games. Aren’t you exhausted from all the lies?” She was.

In an instant, Mal’s entire demeanor cooled, until his expression was as icy as his eyes. “Calm down, Tempest. You’re imagining—”

“Don’t youdaresay that to me!” She took a step backward toward the door. “I’m done being the butt of your jokes.” Another step. “I’m done.” To her embarrassment, heat filled hereyes. Oh god, she was going to cry. “You’re the most despicable man I’ve—”

“I’m quite tired of this,” Mal bit out, grabbing Tempest and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” she demanded, slamming her fists into Mal’s back. But he didn’t respond. He jogged swiftly through a series of twisting corridors until he reached a black, wooden door, kicked it open, and then shut behind them. It was completely dark. He jostled her around and somehow lit a lantern without letting her go.

“Put me down,” she said flatly. He didn’t. Tempest twisted and writhed until she slithered out of his grasp, landing heavily on her knees. Pain ran down her shins, but it was better than being manhandled by the double-crossing psychopath.

Mal cursed and bent to help her up, but she kicked him in the chest and pulled out her knives instead.

“What the devil are you about?” he snarled.

“I should have seen the signs,” she gasped, chest heaving. “I’ve been so stupid. You’ve been lying to me all this time!”

Mal rolled his eyes. “Why so mad, my lady? You were the one who kissed me. It seems as if your love life is getting a little busy. You’re going to have to pick a man… me, PyreandKing Destin seem like a bit much.”

Tempest saw nothing but red. She lunged for Mal, every cell in her body intent on forcing the truth out of him.

There weren’t three men.

There were only two.

Destin and the Jester.

EIGHTEEN

Tempest

When Mal met her attack, Tempest angrily grappled with him.

“Just shift!” she yelled. “I know who you are, soshift!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He gnashed his teeth together, as he tried to pin her. He grabbed at her arm with claw-tipped fingers, the razor edges slashing across her upper arm. She recoiled, and his blue eyes widened. He took a step in her direction. “Tempest, I’m sorry. Let—”

“Don’t touch me,” she uttered, wanting to cry as she cradled her arm. Blood seeped from the wound into her shirt, staining it crimson. “You just can’t help it, can you? Everything you touch, you ruin.” His jaw flexed, and he looked away.That’s right. Feel ashamed. “I’m so sick of the lies. You askedmeto helpyou, not the other way around. Just—stop lying,” she begged. “Stop it. Be honest with me foronce.I’ve earned that much by now.”

---