Page 29 of Her Tortured Beasts

Muttering something foul under its breath, it saunters past the basilisk—who inhales deeply as it passes him—until the darkness swallows its body up. Ghoul shuts the door with theair of someone way too used to imprisoning people, and locks it with a definite clunk.

“Well, that’s that.” Ghoul brushes his hands like it’s a job well done and stops short, as if he’s surprised to see me still here. Dramatic bastard is worse than Savage. “Don’t you have important meetings with politicians or something?” Fangs flash again. Madder than Scythe.

“How long is it supposed to be in there for?”

“You’re obsessed with her,” he says with delight. “Can’t stand the thought of being without her pretty blue eyes. That soft, kissable mouth. You loved toting her around just so you could look at her and get all the private time your greedy dragoncraves.”

I scowl. “No. In fact, the distance is preferred. It’s been annoying having it follow me everywhere.”

Ghoul smirks and it almost sends me into a rage. I control myself, stalking forward, and lean over the basilisk, bracing my arms on either side of him and staring right into those lethal, laser beam eyes. The bastard doesn’t move and doesn’t stop smirking.

“Fuck her eyes. And fuck her mouth. There is far better out there for me.”

With that, I turn and leave, feeling more free than ever before.

At today’s meeting with my father, I’m thoroughly displeased to find a worm sitting his accursed, withering behind on one of our antique chairs.

Mace Naga does not get up when I approach, instead brushing non-existent dust off his knee. “Master Xander. A pleasure.”

He addresses me as a child, with that wraith voice of utter evil. I refrain from the urge to pull the second seat away from him and instead sit in it. “Mace.”

My father casts a disapproving look at me before gesturing to the worm in the black duster. “The dragons got a good look at the girl. I have taken the liberty of inviting a few more interested parties to your wedding, and that will give us ample interest for the big day.”

“What is the big day?”

“The Boneweaver auction,” Mace says as if we are talking about a race horse and not his own loin-spawn. “Your father and I have already discussed the particulars.” He gestures to a closed brown manila folder, no doubt containing the contract of use. The moment Mace told us to hunt down his daughter for execution way back at Halfeather’s mansion, I knew he was a head case. And this cold, calculated way he speaks of her breeding auction is despicable at best.

“A good deal, I should think,” Father says, nodding with satisfaction. “A great benefit to Serpent Court.”

“Indeed,” Mace says, standing. “And a great benefit to the endangered communities.”

My father’s lips twitching is the only giveaway that he’s annoyed by the implication of some weakness on our part.

Mace inclines his head, one king to another, before leaving.

I wait until I hear Mace clear the middle of the staircase. “Was that really necessary?”

Father sits back in his chair, his irises glowing with irritation. “When did I ever give you the impression you had permission to question me?”

“I am your heir,” I say reasonably. “Your politics are my politics.”

“And apparently, my intelligence is not your intelligence. You have no idea who Mace Naga is.”

I concentrate on the gold of his eyes. “A creature who would auction his own young.”

“And that benefits us directly.” His tone holds an undercurrent of fire, indicating that I’m toeing the line.

“Well, I’ve given it some thought, and I think Nadine Chen will be the best choice for me.”

“She won’t do.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Francesca is the superior candidate. Her father owns the biggest law firm in the country, he has ties with the human intelligence services, and further, her genetic profile is most compatible with ours.”

I close my eyes for a brief minute, remembering our ill-fated walk through the maze garden.

“Father, she is entitled. She has no manners, is outright rude in some cases?—”

“All that can be changed after marriage. She will learn with time, or are you incapable of handling her?”

I clench my fists on my knees, where he can’t see them. “I can”—fucking—“handle her. She is attractive enough, but?—”

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