Page 8 of Tethered Souls
At the top of the stairs, I march across the white carpet, my finger twitching at my side as I imagine lining a gun up with Varius’ head and firing. All it will take is one twitch…
And, you know, getting close enough to take the shot without being killed by Khalid…
Ignoring the unsupportive voice in my head, I shove the door open to my father’s study. He sits behind his desk, his dark-blue eyes on his laptop as he types something. He acts as if he didn’t hear the banging of the front door or my earlier shout for him. He doesn’t even look up or respond to me in any way as I march over to his desk, slam my hands on this side of it, and snarl, “You can’t sell her!”
Not a single reaction.
“Did you hear me?”
Of course he heard me. I’m full on yelling. Our neighbors probably heard, and we have forty-nine acres of well-tended lawns to ourselves.
He’s just ignoring me until I can talk more “reasonably.”
The urge to reach forward and slam his laptop shut has my fingers pressing hard into his desk. But I’m angry, not suicidal, so I calmly step back and take a deep breath.
“She’s only sixteen, Stefaan. She can’t get married. That’s not even –” He looked up when I started, then dropped his head again when my voice rose on “married.” Clenching my jaw, I struggle to control my volume. “Legal,” I finish, very much the respectable fucking daughter.
I dig my nails into my thighs as I wait for Stefaan to bless me with his attention. My jaw clenched, I tell myself one of these days, I’m going to dance on his grave and piss on his tombstone. Then set it on fire.
He finally looks back up at me, but he doesn’t take his hands off his laptop. Clearly, he is aware of just how pissed I am and just how likely it is I’m going to lose my temper again. Ironically, that just pisses me off even more, but it also gives me fuel to better control myself. Anything to spit in my father’s face.
“Then you’ll be pleased to hear,” he says, his voice the epitome of calm, “that she isn’t getting married.”
That doesn’t make any sense. And then itdoes, and my eyes widen. The son of a bitch.
“You said you wouldn’t sell me if I became an assassin,” I growl. Nothing in my life is my own, never has been, but that was one thing, one fucking thing I had control of. “You gave me your fucking word.”
“Next time, get a blood oath.” A magically binding vow.
Fire flickers around my fingers. Rage boils beneath my skin. I want so badly to lunge across the desk and burn my palm into his face, but I know I’ll never reach him.
“I’m not marrying him. His whole family is stuck in the caveman era.”
“You are,” he says sharply, “and youwillbe the wife he wants.”
I grind my teeth, knowing that I can protest as much as I want, but if I refuse, I’ll be hunted down by my own Family, which is why he made me believe it was Lou being the one sold. I would’ve fucking risked it and run.
But now I’ve lost my head start.
I’ll be dead by morning if I tried.
“Perhaps you’ll finally learn how to be a woman of class,” Father sneers.
“A woman ofclass? Fuck that and fuck you and fuck all the caveman neanderthals who have to resort to arranged marriages to get a bride because they’re too fucking stupid and ugly to manage it themselves.” I snort. “I bet Varius can’t even rely on his dick to get a wife because it’s so fucking sma–”
“Micha, that’s enough!” he roars, slamming his hands on his desk as he rises.
“No, let her speak.” The newcomer’s words are soft but sharp in their lethality and confident in their ability to be not just heard butobeyed.A shiver runs down my spine as I spin on my heels, praying it isn’t Varius who’s behind me.
Fuck.
And hot damn, the boy is not ugly. It’s embarrassing how quickly my protests die in the face of his chiseled jaw and crooked nose – broken at least once. Dark hair. Dark eyes that have absolutely nailed the smolder. Thick arms dressed in a black suit. If he rolls up his sleeves while looking into my eyes, I’m pretty certain I’ll just instantly become Micha Shadow.
“I want to hear what she was going to say about my cock.”
A flush hits my cheeks. The urge to look down has my eyes burning, but I know if I do that, I’m going to lose the ability to talk. I can laugh in the face of death, but put me in front of a hot-ass jerk with a dirty mouth, and my tongue trips over my feet.
Though dear gods, he might not even have to do any talking to get me to shut up given the heat of his stare. I can feel it trackingacross my breasts, down my stomach, as if his fingers were lightly grazing my skin. My pussy clenches when his eyes linger on it.
