Page 39 of The Rook

She scooted toward the ropes around his ankles, then she registered footsteps approaching. Although painful, Tempest spun and unsheathed the blades from her hips, keeping them aimed at Mal as he drew closer. He paused and regarded her with pale, soulless eyes that betrayed nothing.

“Stay back,” she growled.

“They deserved their punishment,” he said simply. Not an ounce of emotion.

“Do you always torture your own men? Your allies?” She barked in laughter. “What a leader you are.” Her lips twitched in victory as his jaw began to tick. It was his only tell. The icy lord did indeed feel something from time to time. He was furious. It only spurred her on further to prod him. “You’re as bad as Destin, do you know that? Did you do this of your own accord, or was this sanctioned by Pyre?” she spat.

Mal refused to answer.

Tempest shook her head, disgusted, before turning her attention to Nyx. She stared the woman down until a slight shift in her shoulders told Tempest that Nyx was uncomfortable.

“Their actions were against me, and their punishment has been served,” Tempest said severely. “Care for these men.”

Nyx blithely moved into the training ring and untied thegiant as Tempest limped toward the door without another look at anyone.

“I’m disgusted with you all.” Tempest shoved the door open and stormed into the hall, though her gait was more of an aggravated limp.

Tempest swung around a corner, her own door coming into sight. She’d almost reached her room when the sound of light footsteps crept up behind her, and a hand grabbed at her arm, the scent of sage and pine invading her senses. Pyre.

She shook him off and yanked open her bedroom door. “Get away from me, Pyre!” Rage boiled in her gut. There was no way she could deal with the kitsune without stabbing him. She swung around, intending to lock him out, but he sneaked in and slammed the door behind him, sparks igniting in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s rich,” she snarled. “You don’t get to be mad.” Tempest stabbed her finger toward the door. “Get out!”

“You had no right to interfere. Mal said—”

“Don’t you dare!” she hissed, moving toward her chair by the fire. She had to sit down, or her ankle would give out. Tempest plopped down on the arm of the chair and glared at the Jester. “I can’t believe you. Do you have any idea what yourright-hand manwas up to? Or did you sanction it?”

Pyre’s golden eyes glittered dangerously. He paced to the end of her bed, around her chair, and back to the door, circling the room like a caged tiger. “Of course I knew. Do you think anything in this place happens without my say so?”

Trembles ran up her arms. “How could you?” she cried, flinging her uninjured arm out. “How can you hurt people under your command? Are you so heartless and depraved, Pyre? Do you enjoy their pain like young, henchman Mal?”

“It is because Ihavea blasted heart that I do it!” he fired back, rushing toward the chair.

He reached for her arm again, but Tempest pulled away. Winter’s bite, her arm hurt, but at least it had stopped bleeding.

“Explain how that works,” she sneered. “Tell me how having a heart justifies torturing two men half to death.”

“Because they touched you.”

His words were so fierce that it robbed the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t believe what she heard. Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me the first time,” he replied, fox ears flat against his skull. Pyre growled, flashing his long incisors. “They touched you. They hurt you. Nobody is allowed to touch what’smine.”

Mine. The word echoed through her mind. She didn’t belong to anyone, let alone the Jester.

She held up a finger. “First of all, I am notyours.”

“You’re under my protection, are you not?”

“I don’t need it,” she gritted out.

“Is that so?” he purred. Pyre moved in closer.

Something in his expression had her heart racing. She clumsily stood and put the chair between them. The kitsune laughed softly and brushed a finger over the top of her hand. Her jaw clenched, and she skittered around the chair as he slowly stalked her. He ran his burnished fingers along the top of the wingback chair, a smirk playing about his mouth.

“So fiery, and yet, so delicate,” the kitsune whispered.

Tempest bristled. She was not delicate. Pyre blurred, and she inhaled sharply as he pressed her against the back of the chair. She hardly dared to breathe. His fingers skimmed her neck and cheeks softly, emotion flickering through his eyes too quicklyfor her to discern. He was like fire. One moment, warm and comforting, the next, so hot she’d been burned.

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