Page 24 of A Reign of Malice
“And yet you still keep coming back for my expert opinion,” she teases. “Have fun!”
There’s no way that could happen, but maybe, just maybe, making this man bleed won’t be the worst thing to happen this week.
A quick changein my room, and I’m back in the hallway, headed to Aeson’s room. This time, I have no doubt someone’s following me. I still can’t get eyes on them, but the faint sound of a heartbeat never seems to get further away.
I could take this as a bad sign, but at least I know now. It will change my plans for when I leave Aeson’s room. While I was hoping to go straight back to the painting, that will have to wait until I can be sure nobody is trying to trail us.
My heart pounds as I round the corner and spot Aeson’s door. Every muscle tenses, but I don’t try to calm myself. I need the flush in my cheeks, the quickened breath, the trembling fingers. He’ll think it’s nerves. Desire. He won’t question it if I sell the act well enough.
You’ve survived worse,I remind myself, lifting my hand to knock.You can do this.
The door swings open faster than I expect. Aeson stands there, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There’s a flicker of irritation on his face, though it’s replaced by curiosity in an instant. His gaze sweeps over me, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a knowing smirk.
“Sloane.” His tone is indulgent, like he already knows why I’m here.
I push past him, brushing against his chest as I enter.
Let him think it’s boldness, not desperation.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I murmur, turning to face him as he closes the door. “Dinner was…nice. Too nice. I tried to go back to my room, but all I could think about was you.”
It’s disgustingly easy to slip into the role. My fingers find the hem of my loose button-up shirt, toying with the fabric as if trying to steady myself. His gaze drops to the movement, heat flickering in his eyes. I force myself to look at his mouth, not his eyes. I can’t risk seeing the darkness I know lurks there—the reminder of everything I’m fighting.
Aeson’s hesitation lasts only a moment before he steps closer, sliding his hands around my waist to tug me against him. “I wondered if my kiss earlier had pushed you away,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. “But I see now it only left you wanting.”
My stomach churns, but I lift my head, letting my lashes flutter. “It was exactly what I needed. It’s just been so long since…” I bite my lip for effect.
His grip tightens, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back, exposing my throat. “Don’t you worry about a thing, my queen. I’ll remind you exactly what you’ve been missing.”
I swallow the snarl rising in my throat.He loves control. Let him think he has it.
His lips trace a path down my neck, and I shudder, but not from pleasure. He reaches for the buttons of my shirt, working them loose with practiced ease. I groan softly, and his movements quicken, interpreting my discomfort as eagerness.
“Kiss me,” I demand, voice low and rough, before I lose my nerve.
He obliges instantly, mouth crashing into mine. I leaninto it, letting my wolf snarl quietly in the back of my mind.For the truth,I remind her.For us.
The moment his tongue brushes mine, I let my canines extend, pointed and unforgiving. I moan loudly, tilting my head as if surrendering further, and he growls in response, fingers digging into my hips.
Now.
I snap my jaw closed, catching his bottom lip. Hard. The coppery tang of blood floods my mouth, sharp and metallic. He jerks back with a hiss, hand flying to his mouth as crimson streaks down his chin.
“Damn it, Sloane!” His eyes flash with surprise, not anger.
I stumble back, feigning horror, my hands flying up to cover my mouth. “Gods, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I got carried away. I didn’t realize my wolf?—”
I reach for him, dabbing at the blood with the hem of my shirt, heart hammering. The cotton soaks through quickly, dark red spreading across the pale fabric. My hands shake, not entirely an act.
His gaze tightens, suspicion flickering there for the first time.
I duck my head, avoiding his eyes, playing the flustered lover instead of the scheming queen.
He catches my chin, forcing me to look up. His thumb brushes over my lower lip, smearing blood. “I like seeing you unravel,” he murmurs, voice dark with satisfaction. “You should do it more often.”
The revulsion crawling up my throat nearly chokes me, but I swallow it. “I—I can’t,” I stammer, stepping back, clutching the bloodied fabric to my chest like a lifeline. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but it’s too much. I need a moment.”
Aeson’s brows draw together, confusion clouding his expression. “Sloane?—”
