Page 91 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
There’s always something wrong beneath that much perfection.
And I should know.
He circles me, his voice smooth as glass. “Let me see you, little duck.”
The nickname hits harder now that he knows my true name and fame.
The nerve.
I spread my arms out, bored and unamused. “There. You’ve seen me.”
“Yes, a dress fit for a black rose. Thorns and all.” He extends his fingers toward the dress but thinks better of it, his hand retreating back to his side.
The cold weight of the metal protects me, the sharpness of my see-through armor preventing him—or anyone else—from touching me without getting cut.
“Brel will leave your door unlocked tonight, after the ball,” he says. “Ric will use it as a test, to see if you try to find Seth, try to escape, but you should come to me instead.”
My gaze snaps to his. “What?”
“Come to my bed tonight, and Alaric’s interest in you will wither.”
My jaw hangs open. “You’re offering to fuck me so your brother doesn’t?”
He nods, calm as a cucumber on ice. “Yes.”
“That's obtuse.”
“You don’t want him to like you any more than he already does. Believe me.”
My fingers curl at my sides. “Oh?”
“He’s the Lorn,” he says, the word flat and obvious, like I should already know what it means.
“And you’re the pimp, right?”
His smile thins as he traces my necklace with his fingers, the chain dipping low between my breasts. “Indeed I am.”
I take a step back, not because I’m afraid, but because Alaric has just rounded the corner, and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.
“Nathan,” he says, his voice firm but quiet. “Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs, greeting our guests?”
Nathaniel doesn’t blink. “I’m on my way.” He pauses as he brushes past me, his hand settling on my elbow for a split second. “I will leave my door open, just in case.”
Watching Nathaniel’s retreating back, I straighten my spine and wait for Alaric to catch up.
His evening jacket showcases the same diamond pattern as my dress, and he offers me his arm. “What did my brother want?”
“He tried to seduce me,” I answer honestly.
I’m used to men fighting over me, but this time, they’re not arguing about which one of them could fuck me better. It’s about power, and Alaric is king.
He licks his lips. “Did he succeed?”
“It takes more than a pretty face to sway me, Your Majesty,” I say, stroking his ego.
He grins. The expression looks awkward on his face, like the only smile he knows how to manage is joyless.
“Is Tatiana going to accept my proposal?” he asks.
