Page 176 of A Fate so Cruel

A lot of good it had done them.

Rion marched up the small overgrown path to his cabin and slammed the door open. The magic circling his body enteredfirst, always searching corners and shadows for any who might try to press their luck.

The grains paused. A fluttering heartbeat met his ears, then her scent flooded his nose. It sent his blood racing. Raging all over again, but in a different sort of way.

He spotted the female in the far corner of the room, staring at him with wide frightened eyes. Rion bared his teeth at her. He knew the scent of his enemy better than anyone. Knew the crisp smell of waters that wafted off their kind.

Rion stepped into the cabin, eyes roaming over her face, then her body. He noted the scars around her wrists, the absence of shackles that were supposed to accompany a slave.

But this female wasn’t a half-breed.

He waited, daring her to move, to summon the magic he’d encountered on the battlefield so many times before. Females were just as strong as males, and usually more cunning.

She didn’t so much as blink. The female just stared at him with piercing blue eyes. Eyes that stripped him bare and dug down to feelings and secrets he’d hidden from the world.

For a moment, Rion forgot his anger. For a moment, he was breathless and reeling. For a moment, his pain vanished entirely.

Rion kneeled, clasping his hands together as he studied the female before him, suddenly more curious than angry. Something . . . pulled him toward her. An invisible hand he couldn’t explain. For the first time in years he wanted to touch someone, pull her up from the floor and trace her face. The pulse in her throat.

His magic moved instead, always separating him from a potential threat. She lowered her head to the floor, exposing the back of her neck. Her wrists were already turned up.

Pure submission.

It sent a thrill of delight through him, this female submitting. So many others had done it before, but her—his blood sang for it.

Sand reached her hands and crawled up her arms, wrapping around her fingers and wrists. Coaxing. Teasing. Demanding.

Her scent was intoxicating. A lethal drug begging him to taste it.

Mine.

The word pulsed through him. His blood pounded in his ears. Her heartbeat quickened. She washis. His prey. A beautiful fawn trapped in his grasp.

A low animalistic growl rumbled through his chest and his sand dared to venture beneath the poor excuse for a dress. It traveled up her torso, wrapping around that slender neck.

A sob escaped her lips and the world stopped. Cracked. Whatever trance he’d been under shattered as Rion came back to himself, driving instinct and desire back to the far recesses of his mind.

Ice coated his veins and something in him screamed that this waswrong. So very, very wrong.

He stood and reined his magic in, struggling to control it for the first time in decades. Rion stared at the female. Her shaking body. Her breath trembled and guilt overwhelmed him. He hadn’t felt guilt in a long time, either. Rion hated the feeling. Hated the way it sat heavy on his chest.

This female, half-breed or no, was a slave. Had been for several months. Possibly even years, if the scars across her wrists were anything to judge by.

She’d disguised herself, letting others believe she was nothing. Useless.

Why?

Rion wasn’t sure why he wanted to know or why he cared, but the curiosity was already eating away from him as if it were a parasite. Curiosity was dangerous.

Perhaps she was part of another ploy from the warriors in his camp. Maybe they’d figured out what she was and put her in his service with the hopes that she’d eliminate him herself.

Cowards.

Rion stared at her for another long moment, then marched to the small bathroom and slammed the door shut. He listened as he pulled off his clothes and piled them on the floor.

The female didn’t move.

He should have killed her, but he’d never been able to bring himself to kill a slave.

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