Page 75 of A Court of Bones & Sorrow

Fuck. Me.

He turned away from the bookshelves and sauntered over to me, his hands in his pockets. He was like the dark mirror of Kieran with his perfectly combed hair and well-put-together outfit, but while Kieran had an easygoing charm, Draven had an intensity to him that had the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

Black and silver hair fell over his shoulder as he cocked his head and studied me. Then his eyes drifted over my features, lingering on my red hair and hazel eyes.

“You’re a Devereux.” Not a surprise he figured out my bloodline. Most of the House bloodlines had very distinctive appearances. Everyone in my family had pale skin, deep red hair, hazel eyes, and sharp features. If we were in a room together, there was no mistaking the fact that we were all related, whether I liked it or not. “Astaroth?” he guessed.

“Roth,” I said stiffly, trying to hide my surprise. Maybe he knew my name because I was the only Devereux ever to go to Drudonia. “I go by Roth.”

He smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Roth. Do you prefer to be referred to asthemas well?”

I blinked, not having expected the consideration, but nodded.

Draven shrugged. “I might have to kill you after this conversation, but there is no reason not to be polite about your preferences.”

Once again, my eyes darted to the doors, and I took a tiny step towards them.

“You won’t make it.” Draven gestured towards the table I’d been sitting at when he’d arrived. “How about we have a chat?”

His tone was still light, but his eyes were hard as he walked over to the table and pulled two chairs free so they were facing each other. Fear clamped down on my heart. Draven knew Samara was gone, and he’d decided I was the weak link in finding out where she’d run off to. Stiffly, I walked over to the chair, resolution building with each step. He would getnothingfrom me.

My ribbons shifted slightly on my forearms. I just needed to bide my time. All I needed was a few seconds to make it out the door and down the stairwell. Draven had been careful to keep up the persona of the charming prince around others—he wouldn’t pursue me in front of witnesses.

I hoped.

Draven folded his large frame into the chair opposite me. I looked him over quickly but didn’t spot any weapons on him aside from a coiled whip at his hip. Seemed like an odd choice for a prince. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford a flashy sword.

“How exactly did a Devereux find themselves in House Harker?” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your House isn’t exactly known for playing nice with others.”

“I met Samara at Drudonia, and she asked if I’d be interested in doing an extended stay here for the summer. The beaches are much nicer here than further south.”

Draven glanced pointedly at my white skin that was so pale, it looked like I’d burn immediately if I stepped outside, which was accurate. More importantly, I would get freckles if I spent too much time in the sun, and I refused to have more freckles than the few I already had.

“Was Samara trying to keep you away from me because you’re researching something for her?” Bloodred lines slowly bled into the deep blue of his eyes. “Or because I can still smell her on you?”

I barely restrained myself from brushing my fingers against my neck where Samara had fed from me this morning after Kieran and Alaric had left. At some point, we’d both ended up in the washroom together, but considering what we did afterwards, it wasn’t surprising I still smelled like her.

Fuck it.

“Jealous that my tongue was deep in Samara’s cunt while she sat on my face this morning?”

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

“She’s not going to marry you.” I raised my chin. “And I’m not going to tell you shit.”

Red churned in his eyes like rivers of blood, the blue a distant memory. What unsettled me more was how calm he appeared. His bloodlust was running high, but he was lounging in the chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. The onlyother person I’d seen who could control their bloodlust that well was Samara.

“I could make you tell me.” A cruel smile stretched across his mouth. “Believe me when I say I’m quite good at getting people to spill their secrets.”

My ribbons shifted along my forearms, the outer layer loosening a little more. “You don’t frighten me.”

His smile widened. “Lies. We both know I can hear your heart beating faster every second you’re in my presence. Where has Samara gone? I know she’s no longer within these walls, and I know that temperamental Marshal is with her.”

“Maybe she just wanted to get away from you after being forced to see your hideous face every day for the past couple of weeks?” Almost ready. Strike. Run. Find Kieran and Alaric. Whatever game the prince had been playing this week was over.

“Alright.” Draven raised a hand, flicking his fingers out to reveal nails that had hardened into sharp, black claws. “Let’s see if you reconsider after I peel the skin from your bones. I think I’ll start with the face.”

Faster than lightning, my ribbons shot forward, aiming for his eyes. I bolted up but stumbled back when his whip leapt from his hip of its own accord to slap my ribbons aside. My hesitation cost me, because when I spun to take off towards the door, something yanked my feet out from under me, causing me to slam face-first into the floor, and I screamed when a snapping sound came from my wrist as I tried to break my fall.

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