Page 44 of Thief of Souls
Does Belladonna even know what she might cost her cousin?
Or does she simply not care?
A sharp rap comes at the door.
I jerk my hands from my gown just as Keir abruptly enters, shutting the door behind him.
“Come in,” I call, eyeing him challengingly. “It’s not as though I’m naked.”
“I knocked.”
“It’s usually polite to wait for an answer.”
At that, his gaze slides down me somewhat possessively. The last I saw of him, he was draped in naiads. It’s the role he’s meant to play—to draw attention and leave me in the shadows—but I’m irritable enough with the entire situation that it only sharpens my fury.
Maybe he sees it on my face, for his eyebrow arches as he slips his cloak off and tosses it over a chair. “I tried to find you at the party, but you didn’t come back from the maze.”
“You didn’t notice,” I correct sharply. “You had a blonde on each knee.”
His eyelids lower lazily, thick lashes concealing his thoughts. “I would have noticed if you’d returned. Blondes or no blondes. What happened? Belladonna was practically smirking at me.”
“A few playful threats. Some name-calling. An attempt to drown me in a pond full of blood lilies. You know how these princesses are.”
He takes a sharp step toward me before he pauses, clenching one fist. “You’re all right? I hated watching you enter that maze with her.”
“She knew I was in Anissa’s rooms last night. She’s been questioning Ismena about her sister’s death and seems to think I can glamor myself invisible.”
“How did you get away?”
“I didn’t. She cursed me,” I grind out. “She wants me to kill the Lord of Mistmark, or she’ll unravel the curse and let it eat my heart.”
Keir strides toward me, fury etching hard lines in his face. “She didwhat?”
I repeat myself, but if anything, he only grows angrier.
“Show me.”
This time it’s my turn to arch a brow. “Is that what you say to all the girls?”
Keir rests both hands on the vanity on either side of my hips, and for the first time I realize I must have backed against it. “Show me.”
The words are soft with menace, and yet they still somehow steal my breath. Because his anger isn’t directed at me.
And maybe I do need his assistance, though the asking of it is impossible.
“I need help.”
I turn and lift my hair out of the way. The catch of my dress is at the back, and it’s complicated enough that I don’t bother with it myself.
There’s a moment of hesitation, and then Keir’s fingertips brush another lock of my hair out of the way. He works at the clasp of the collar, and the silence is suddenly warm and intimate. It feels as though the room is closing in on us.
He’s barely touching me.
Just the dress.
But I can feel his breath stirring over the back of my neck, and my nipples go hard. Heat emanates from his body. I can feel the wall of it against my back.
I want it.
