Page 256 of The Throne Seeker
“Do you love him like you love me?”
She finally understood what he was doing. With every answer, another wound opened in Tristan’s chest, cracking his fragile frame.
“No,” she whispered.
“Do you want to fuck him like you want to fuck me?” he growled.
Rose looked Roman dead in the eye. “No.”
Roman nodded, satisfied. He turned to Tristan, sizing up his brother. “You hear that? She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t wantyou. Get it through your fucking head.”
Tristan’s face remained fierce. He cocked his head smugly. “Her body tells me otherwise. Perhaps she’s just too scared to tell you the truth.”
Roman scoffed, taking another formidable step toward him. “Is that why you had to tear the clothes right off her back?” he asked, nodding to her dress crumpled on the floor. He lowered his voice as a terrifying smile took hold of his handsome face.“Funny, when I bed her, she practically tears the dress off herself because she can’t get it off fast enough.”
Tristan charged at Roman without a moment’s hesitation.
Roman veered to the right as Tristan lunged, dodging his attack.
Child’s play.
Roman drew his sword from its sheath.
“Don’t!” Rose pleaded with them both.
But this was past negotiation now.
In all their training, she’d never seen Roman fight with such bloodthirst, his barbaric eyes looking like he could kill. Like a fool, his gentle nature the past few weeks had made her overlook that he was the general of the largest army in Vallor for a reason.
It shouldn’t have thrilled her siren the way it did.
Strike after strike, Roman backed Tristan into a corner, stepping over the debris of the room. Tristan was far too drunk to fight properly. That, coupled with the fresh injury on his shoulder, made him no match for Roman—a fact that Roman took full advantage of. Within moments, Roman had knocked Tristan’s sword out of his hands, leaving him defenseless. Even then, he didn’t stop, lifting his sword to strike a fatal blow.
“Roman!” she yelled.
Roman’s sword stopped just as it reached Tristan’s neck, the blade piercing through the top layer of skin, drawing blood.
A calculated move.
Roman glared down at his brother like he was nothing more than a disgusting cockroach. “We’re leaving.” Roman’s cold-blooded voice chilled the air. “If you eventhinkabout trying to stop us or hunt us down, I promise I’ll finish what we started here.” He crouched to Tristan’s level, his sword still at his throat. “And if you ever—” he dug the blade deeper into Tristan’s neck, making him wince, “—evertouch her like that again without herfull permission, blood or not—king or not—I swear to the gods above and below, I will kill you.”
Rose never would’ve believed the words came from his lips if she hadn’t witnessed it herself. Roman had a dark side after all. For some reason, it made her feel better—like it leveled the playing field.
Tristan’s eyes filled with a loathing she’d never seen in him, not even for Xavier.
A new rivalry born before her very eyes.
Roman forced Tristan to his feet and dragged him to the one good chair by the knocked-over table. He began tying him to it with the rope used to hold back the curtains.
“What are you doing?” Rose asked.
“I’m tying him up so we have time to get out of here.” Roman grunted.
“There’s no need for that. He wouldn’t stop?—”
“Wouldn’t he?”
Rose gazed at Tristan.
