Page 72 of Warlord's Plaything

She looks like she wants to rip the dress off.

Like she wants to burn this whole place down.

Like she is still a caged beast, aching to taste blood.

Fuck.

"What is she?"The noble sneers, swirling his goblet."A pet? A plaything? A trophy from your little rebellion?"

My fingers twitch around my own glass.

I shouldn’t react.

I should let the insult slide, let the fool believe his words mean something.

But I don’t.

There is no word for what she is to me.

No label that fits.

And that fuckinginfuriatesme.

Instead, I smile."You have a death wish, Lord Vexis?"

His smirk falters, just slightly."I’m merely stating the obvious, warlord."

I take a casual sip of my wine, then step closer."Then let me be clear."I let the silence drag, thick and weighted."The next time you speak of what’s mine—" I tilt my head, voice dropping to a whisper."I’ll make sure you don’t have a tongue to do it with."

His throat bobs.

Hira hasn’t seen me yet.

She stands near the railing, looking down below, lost in thought.

But I see the tension in her spine.

She knows I’m here.

She always does.

And fuck me, I love that.

"You’re uncomfortable."

I come up behind her, feeling the heat of her skin, but not touching. She doesn’t flinch. I’m mesmerized by the way her breath slows. She doesn’t turn.

"You put me in a fucking dress,"she mutters."What did you expect?"

I chuckle."You look good in it."

Her jaw tightens."Fuck you."

"You already have."

She spins to face me, eyes flashing, teeth bared.

Perfect.

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