Page 32 of Iris
“I should go?—”
“Icy wants to go, Xavier. Should we let her?” Killian says.
I could almost swear he answers even though he doesn’t speak. The air seems to vibrate, and Killian’s expression changes slowly.
“He says yes, but I’m not convinced. What if you make a complaint to your Monarch?”
My eyes narrow. “She’s not my anything. Just because I’m being forced to take part in this idiotic ritual doesn’t mean I like it. I don’t. It’s an outdated, stupid tradition.”
Xavier moves fluidly to the bar and helps himself to a drink.
It’s now, in the light of the bar, that I see how ugly the scar that crosses his neck is, right over his larynx. The bar’s light shines up from beneath the edge, and even though the tattoos across his skin partly cover it, there’s nothing that can fully hide it.
I’m fascinated, horrified, just because I want to know what happened. My heart breaks because it’s obvious the scar’s old, meaning it happened when he was young. Very young.
A boy going through something like that… It’s sickening.
“So,” Killian asks, that silky voice light and dangerous as it flirts with the edges of me, setting my pulse thumping hard and fast, “you were sent here by the Council? To…what?”
“If you’ve got a hard-on about the Council that’s not my problem.” Part of me wants to blurt out the truth—that Iwas running from the Monarch’s meeting—but it sounds silly, immature, even to me.
“Then what has you visiting our neck of the city?” Killian looks at me. “While dressed to the nines but looking like you’re walking to the gallows.”
Because that’s exactly what it feels like.
I sigh, shoulders sinking. “You wouldn’t understand.”
When I glance at Xavier, I find he’s staring at me. The intensity of it makes the blood in me start to vibrate. A smile plays on his mouth, and once again I’m fighting my lungs to breathe.
Then I turn slowly back to Killian, whose smugness should be a turn off, but isn’t. When his gaze rakes over me, I start to shake.
These men are lethal.
I’ve met, I think, the real Xavier, the man who danced with me, light and soft on his feet. I haven’t met the real Killian.
But I’ve seen him.
With Emmie.
Xavier’s hands start to dance in front of him, and it takes me a second to realize he’s using sign language to communicate with Killian.
He’s…deaf? I didn’t see any hearing-aids, but that doesn’t mean anything. He could be really good at reading lips.
Either way, Killian understands him because he laughs at whatever Xavier tells him.
“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs,” I snap.
“Be careful, Xav. She’s coming for you next,” Killian says.
More quick hand gestures from Xavier, but this time, his expression doesn’t look pleased.
“No, I’ll say whatever I want.” Then he offers the other Alpha a slash of a smile. “Iris can take it.”
The double meaning to his words zaps electricity straight to my core. Images of the both of them caging me in, pulling off my clothes, and touching me in my most private places flash in my mind.
I swallow hard.
“So, Iris,” Killian starts, “humor me, because now I’m curious. What do you think about mixed relationships? Say…a Beta and an Alpha. Or an Omega and a Delta. Disgusting?”
