Page 26 of Scarred
“Do I?”
“A little.” Her shoulders lift. “Are you?”
My chest twists as I slip a joint from behind my ear and place it in my mouth, my tongue flicking the edge as it rolls across my lips. My private tutors called it an oral fixation, right before they’d try to lash it out of me, saying it was uncouth for a prince to be seen with things in his mouth. I tried to explain it kept me calm; kept away the obsessive thoughts and the anxiety churning like a stew in my gut. But they didn’t care how it made me feel, only what it made me look like.
“Are we friends now, little doe?” I ask.
“Stop calling me that.”
She cuts me a glare and my heart pounds, excited to be riling her up. “You’re very demanding. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“And you’re rude,” she retorts.
“It’s not an outstanding quality for a queen consort,” I continue. “You may want to work on that before your etiquette courses start and they beat it out of you.”
Her footsteps falter and she stops, spinning to face me.
“Beat it out…” Her voice trails off as she watches me, and I sense the tension in the air growing thick even before her gaze snags on my scar. It tightens around me until my lungs compress, but I revel in the discomfort.
“Don’t worry.” My finger taps against the raised flesh on my brow. “This isn’t a result of bad manners. Notmineanyway.”
She nods but doesn’t avert her eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”
I move to walk again, but she reaches out, her fingers wrapping around my wrist to keep me in place. My gaze drops to where we’re connected, heat flooding through my veins.
“Tell me about the rebels,” she demands.
My gut jolts and I spin to face her, allowing her touch to linger on my skin. I trail my eyes along her form, starting at the tip of her black-as-night curls, over her deep-chocolate eyes, before sliding down to the cleavage peeking from the top of her bloodred dress.
My cock grows stiff as I imagine ripping the fabric from her chest and sliding my length between the swell of her breasts until I’m crazy with the need to come.
She drops my wrist and backs up a space, her chin lifting like it always does right before she becomes defiant. The move showcases the expanse of her neck, and my fingers twitch to leave prints on her like paint on a canvas.
Slowly, I take the unlit joint from my mouth, placing it behind my ear as I bring my eyes back to hers. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything. I want… wait.” Her brows draw in. “You’re not going to fight me on it? Tell me I shouldn’t speak of them or ask questions?”
I tilt my head. “Now, why would I do that?”
“Everyone else has, I just—” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip.
The sight of her marring her own flesh sends another spike of desire through me, and before I can stop, I’m moving toward her, excitement sparking my insides when she retreats. I continue until she’s underneath the stone arches of the window, her body pressing against the greens and yellows of the stained glass.
Her eyes flick from my face to the hallway and back as if she’s scared someone will walk by and see us.
I enjoy making her nervous.
The mask she wears for the world drops away when it’s just the two of us.
“I’m not everyone else, little doe.” I step in farther.
The yellow specks in her eyes make my stomach tighten. I bring a hand up, running the backs of my fingers along her cheek, liking the way she flinches, either from the touch itself or the cool metal of my rings.
“It would be such a shame to lose that inquisitive mind,” I murmur. “I don’t wish to stifle it. I wish to break it apart and see what other questions I can find.”
Her hands move behind her until they’re pushing against the window, the colors creating a beautiful halo around her body as if she’s divinity in human form, brought to earth to tempt me from my violent deeds.
But I already know she’s no angel.
