Page 76 of Crowned In Venom

"My lord?"

A slow smile spreads across my lips.

"I have changed my mind," I murmur.

Silence.

The auctioneer’s brows furrow. "But?—"

I step forward, curling a finger beneath Anya’s chin, tilting her face up to mine.

"Perhaps," I say, my voice just loud enough to carry, "she is worth more than I thought."

Anya meets my gaze.

And in that moment, I know.

She sees the game I have played.

And more importantly—she has just won it.

24

ANYA

Varkos watches me too closely now after that auction.

He doesn’t speak of it outright, doesn’t confront me, but his eyes linger, waiting, peeling back the layers I have so carefully wrapped around myself.

It is not the look of a master indulging in a prize.

It is the look of a hunter tracking prey.

He sees too much.

I have been too bold.

Or not bold enough.

So I do what I must—I weave a snare of half-truths and careful misdirection, giving him just enough to keep him tangled.

But tonight, as we sit in his chambers, the game shifts.

And I realize, too late—I have already lost this round.

The fire burns low in the hearth, the flickering glow casting strange shadows across the dark stone walls. Outside, the city thrums with distant revelry, a cruel contrast to the silence that stretches between us.

I sit before him, poised, composed, a glass of spiced wine cradled between my fingers.

He sits across from me, his chair carved from obsidian, his long legs sprawled in careless ease. But there is nothing careless about him.

Not tonight.

His amethyst eyes catch the firelight, gleaming with something unreadable. Something sharp.

A predator studying his next move.

"You have been restless," he says, voice smooth as silk, laced with something too soft to be safe.

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