Page 17 of Greed: The Savage
No, she didn’t care. His prick could rot off into a brick of gold for her to build a future on, and she’d still not be interested.
What she’d been, however, was something just as bad, but at least primally explicable. That hot look in his unswerving gaze had liquified Addien in her seat and sparked—she blanched—envy.
God rot her soul, she’d envied the baroness for being the benefactress of his attentions.
And, then there’d been the matter of her tongue, getting the best of her as it always did.
What in hell was rotting her brain that she was giving a fig about who the high-and-mighty gent had an itch for? She was about to get the chuck from Dynevor.
For the uneasiness churning inside, she did her best to don an unaffected, lifeless expression.
Malric hadn’t quit his stare, and she’d be damned if she let him taste her terror.
Addien wasn’t at all concerned with dying. She’d learned long ago that life invariably proved harder than death. At least when a person was dead, the cruelty came to a stop. That’s what a girl—Leah, her name had been—whom Addien called a friend had said when they’d been searching for somewhere to warm their hands after a vicious winter’s freeze. Leah died against Addien’s side that night, with icicles frozen on her lashes. Sleep hadn’t looked that sweet on the girl.
No, Addien didn’t fear death. She feared going without a roof over her head and the constant threat of danger lurking in every shadow.
And by the furious frost in Malric’s miserably cold eyes, he not only knew the fate awaiting Addien, herelishedit.
Yes, well, she didn’t intend to go without a battle.
Addien summoned a brave face. “You seemed to enjoy yourself back there, Malric,” she said with a snigger.
“This is what you’ll say?” His question contained a warning edge.
Aye, she would. All the better to keep his focus away from Addien.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were eying the lady as your future marchioness.”
The whites of his eyes expanded.
For a moment, she believed she’d pushed too far.
“Never say you were jealous, Addien,” he taunted.
Mortified heat came to her cheeks, as quick as a refusal. “No!” that espousal came forcefully, and Addien wasn’t sure which of them she sought to convince.
Unease tripped along her spine. Tossing her head back, she forced a raucous laugh. “Why would I be jealous of—?”
Her words ended on a gasp. Malric caught her wrist in the same quick, tight hold he’d had of the baroness. And just as he’d done with the wealthy baroness, he pressed his hard thumb against the inset of her wrist. His gaze burned with a warmth that touched her skin, even before his mouth did.
She knew it was coming.
Malric grazed his teeth along the tell-tale blue vein; starting at mid-palm, he traversed a dangerous trail of slick, hot kisses to the middle of her arm.
A hot ache made her shift on the bench.
Heart hammering, she snatched her arm away.
Malric’s rusty, malicious laugh was all-knowing, and humiliating for it.
As much as she wanted to curl into a shell and hide forever, Addien turned her chin all the way up until her gaze fully met his.
The marquess leaned back on his bench, reassessing her.
She waited for an explosion. This was far worse.
Malric peeled his lips back like the wolf who’d eaten poor Red Riding Hood. His nostrils went into a full flare. His eyes oozed warning. His dark eyelids twitching, he was a sight in his rage.
