Page 41 of Stolen
Relaxed.
Her arms folded beneath her full breasts as she tilts her head, asking questions.
I catch her laugh, light and unsure, and something inside me sharpens.
I do not like that she is this at ease with anyone but me.
Mine.
The word carves itself into my bones.
Shade catches my gaze and immediately straightens, bowing her head. “My Lord.”
Jules turns, and I see her face light up with something between curiosity and—gods help me—fondness.
Dangerous.
Too fucking dangerous.
I should end this now.
Shut her down.
Remind her what I am.
But instead—I watch.
Because Jules Strano, little mortal firebrand, has no idea the line she’s toying with, and yet, she dances on it like she was born for this.
“Am I interrupting?” I ask, voice silken with that lazy authority mortals usually trip over themselves to obey.
She turns, one hand on her hip, chin tipped up in challenge.
“Depends,” she says with a smirk. “You here to whisk me away to another realm—oops, wait. You did that already.”
A joke?
She’s joking.
With me.
Shade gasps softly at her audacity. Even lowers her gaze, which amuses me more.
Because normally? That kind of insolence would earn a lesser creature a quick, painful lesson in fear.
But this isn’t just anyone.
This is her.
Jules doesn’t stop. Of course not.
“Or,” she continues, tilting her head with mock curiosity, “are you going to give me more cryptic answers about why you’ve brought me here? You know—because beingchosenreally doesn't explain the kidnapping part.”
Audacious. Clever. Nervy.
She should be groveling. Trembling.
Instead, she’s playing with me like she’s in control.
