Page 14 of The Naga Lord's Pretty Little Mouse

A slow smirk graces the corner of my lips.

She is sharp. She doesn't bare her throat, but she is willing to test her teeth.

Intriguing.

"You think I am waiting for something," I say.

She folds her arms across her chest, an unconscious barrier, one she doesn't realize she has created. "Are you not?"

The question hangs between us, pressing into the humid night.

I tilt my head slightly, my forked tongue flicking out before I still it. "Perhaps."

Her gaze darkens.

She expected a different answer.

Good.

She shifts, placing more weight onto one leg, the tension in her muscles barely visible beneath the soft drape of her tunic. A stance of someone prepared to move. Prepared to fight.

She doesn't understand.

She is already fighting.

Not with steel. Not with fists. With every sharp word, every refusal to yield.

She has not realized that I am letting her win, for now.

I push off the stone, rising to my full height, the movement slow, unhurried. She doesn't step back.

I expect nothing less.

"You have a choice to make, Seren," I say softly.

Her fingers flex at her sides.

"If you are not my prisoner," I continue, "then what are you?"

She doesn't answer.

A lesser creature would have already begged for the illusion of freedom.

But Seren Delyra doesn't beg.

She waits.

I step past her, letting my presence drag against hers, letting the weight of what has been left unspoken press against her skin.

"I suggest you make your decision soon," I murmur, low enough that she feels the words rather than hears them.

Suddenly, I am gone, vanishing into the darkened halls, leaving her there, standing at the edge of the trap she refuses to see.

8

SEREN

Iwake to rough hands dragging me from the bed.

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