Page 77 of Warlord's Plaything

But I don’t.

Because for once, I want to hear her say it.

I want to hear her admit it.

That this is more than hate.

That this is so much fucking worse.

"You’re a selfish bastard,"she murmurs, her voice unsteady.

I grin, low, dark."And you like it."

She glares.

No denial spills from her lips.

She can’t deny it or else it will be an outright lie.

We both know that whatever this is between us, it’s already ruined us both.

I don’t even fucking care.

26

HIRA

The air crackles around me, heavy with the stench of steel and sweat, the faint sting of charred incense still clinging to the training grounds.

Xyron stands across from me, eyes unreadable, his posture deceptively relaxed. A predator waiting for the kill.

He’s always fucking watching.

Waiting for me to slip.

Waiting for me to show momentary weakness.

I tighten my grip around the hilt of the sword, trying to ignore the heat crawling under my skin, the slow, insidious fire burning in my veins.

Something’s wrong with me.

I feel it.

I’ve felt it since the moment I woke up in his bed, since the moment I let him drag me under.

And now, it’s getting worse.

"Focus, little warrior."

His voice is low, taunting. A deliberate pull.

A challenge.

I don’t take the bait.

Not this time.

Instead, I roll my shoulders, stretching the tension, pushing against the feeling clawing inside me.

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