The Wish Granter (Ravenspire #2)(97)

His expression flattened, and he slowly climbed to his feet.

A tremble shook Ari as he stalked toward her.

She was hitting a venomous snake with a stick. She just had to pray she could talk fast enough to turn his venom toward Teague instead of her.

“Think you’re pretty special, don’t you?” His voice was rough.

“What I think doesn’t matter.” She kept her voice steady, but it was hard. He was closing fast, and the eager cruelty in his eyes made her want to shrink against the wall behind her.

“No, it doesn’t.” He was at her side in two more steps, and then he struck her face with the flat of his palm, sending her reeling.

Before she could recover, he grabbed her arms and gave her a quick, vicious shake. “You’re my prisoner. I can do whatever I want to you as long as I leave you alive.”

“I’m not your prisoner. I’m Teague’s.”

He grabbed her throat, dug his fingernails into her tender skin, and pulled her close enough that she could smell the staleness of his breath and feel the scratchiness of the rough tunic he wore.

There was nothing in his eyes but hatred. Nothing in his expression but rage.

How had Sebastian grown up with this much hate and cruelty aimed at him? How had he survived Jacob and found the strength to be the kind, protective boy she knew him to be?

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to swallow against the awful pressure of his palm. She did her best to make the pain a distant second to the purpose that burned within her, and met his gaze as he snarled, “I can hurt you. I can make you bleed. I can give you so much pain, you’ll be begging for death instead. Sebastian knows all about that.”

“I know.” She pushed the words past the constriction of her throat.

“I have all the power here, and I’m happy to demonstrate that if you need reminding.” His free hand reached for his whip, and Ari keep her eyes steadily on his. With a quick snap of his wrist, he flicked the whip beside her with a sharp crack that made her flinch. He leaned closer. “Still think you’re too good for me?”

“No, but Teague does,” she whispered.

His grip on her neck tightened, and she choked, but then he released her and stood. Before she could draw a shaky breath of relief, he moved behind her, the whip extended like a snake eager to sink its fangs into her skin.

“If Teague thought you were better than me, he’d have me chained to a wall and not you.” His voice shook with anger. “I’m going to enjoy teaching you to hold your tongue.”

“If Teague values you so much, then why is Sebastian his collector here and not you?” She rushed the words, but, stars help her, he was raising the whip, and she was already braced for the terrible bite of agony it would bring.

There was a pause, and bitterness tinged his voice when he spoke. “Boy made a contract. Can’t do anything about that. He’ll fail at it sooner or later. That boy never did have his head where it should be. Me, though, I follow orders. Every time. Which means I can hurt you, Princess, as long as I don’t kill you.”

“You’ll only prove to Teague that he was right to call you a blunt instrument and that Sebastian is the finely balanced sword. It’s obvious Teague thinks the sword is what he needs. I think you should prove him wrong.” And, stars, please let this work because if it didn’t, Ari had nothing else to try against him.

He grunted, and then he was crouched behind her, his knee digging into her back. In seconds, he had the whip wrapped around her throat. She grabbed for it, pulling against his brute strength. The whip didn’t loosen.

He spoke softly beside her ear. “Of course you want me to prove him wrong. You think I’m stupid? You just don’t want the whipping you deserve for running your mouth.”

Her voice was a harsh rasp as she struggled to speak around the slowly tightening leather cord. “I don’t want Sebastian to be the collector anymore, and I know how to make Teague see that you’re the better choice.”

“Is that so?” He sounded mocking.

“Yes.” Probably. As long as nobody had gone through the parchment on the little desk she used in the study Teague had given her.

“And how would a chained-up princess know a thing about collecting for Teague?” He still sounded mocking, but the whip loosened around her throat.

“Because for the last month, I’ve been managing his accounts in Kosim Thalas, figuring out how to cut down his overhead in Balavata, and organizing connections for him with people in five other kingdoms. He’s expanding his business, and that means he’ll need to travel to those kingdoms to set up networks and put collectors in place.”

“He already knows he can send me to another kingdom.” The whip pulled, burning against her skin.

“But Kosim Thalas is the seat of his growing empire, and somebody has to rule over it in his absence. That someone will be Sebastian—”

Jacob cursed. “Taught that boy everything he knows, and he thinks he can just bypass me?”

“Sebastian doesn’t think that.” Stars, was he really this blind? “Teague thinks that. Change Teague’s mind, and you will be the one to rule Kosim Thalas in his stead. Second in command over Teague’s multikingdom empire.”

“And why would you want to help me take that from Sebastian?”

Because Sebastian didn’t want it in the first place. And because if Jacob thought she was helping him, he might help her. She’d love to be unchained from the wall and allowed to cook a whole raft of bacon, but at this point she’d settle for a privy bucket and a piece of dry toast.