Scarred(Never After #2)(51)

I surge forward, my lips parting as she teases the side of my length with the back of her palm, the fabric jostling and creating a friction that has me close to coming without her even fully touching me.

Liquid oozes from my tip and my fingers grip the meat of her thigh so tight, I’m sure I’ll leave a bruise.

“Sara, sweetheart.” Michael’s voice cuts through the fog, and her hand disappears as quickly as it came. “I’d like to have some time with you, alone, before the ball begins.”

She blushes as she gazes at him. I clench the edge of the table, my knuckles lancing white from the harsh grip.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she croons.

She places her palm in his, and they rise, but before they can move, a large crash clatters through the hall.

I turn to my left, shock spiraling through me when I see my cousin collapsed on top of the table, grasping at his neck. His body spasms as if he has no control over his muscles. Red capillaries burst in his eyes, and I’m frozen in place, transfixed at the sight of him.

A scream sounds from somewhere beneath the dais, and someone rushes forward, pushing me out of the way as they aid him. I allow them to move me, a sense of dread winding through my middle, recognizing that my cousin is poisoned, and not by me.





CHAPTER 28





Sara B.





Strychnine.

Not the most subtle of poisons, but I didn’t need subtlety. I needed something that had no known remedy and would work quickly.

Lord Takan is harmless—a sacrifice for the greater good—but somewhere in the deepest part of me, I could feel a piece of my soul wither and chip when I slipped the powder in his drink and watched it dissolve, knowing I was serving him nothing but death.

Lord Takan is first cousins with the king, which makes him a Faasa, and although not high in line to assume the throne, he is in the line. And my thirst for revenge won’t be quenched until I’ve eradicated every drop of Faasa blood from the earth.

Michael’s hand trembles as he grips my forearm, beads of sweat forming on his brow as we’re escorted by a corral of guards, led by Timothy and another man in uniform with shaggy blond hair. I can’t remember his name, but I know he was the one who restrained that woman with Lord Reginald’s head. Xander stomps in front of us, running a hand through his hair as if he can’t calm his thoughts.

We file into Michael’s office, and Timothy grips my elbow, his eyes scanning me from head to foot, as if he’s worried I too ingested poison that will paralyze my airways and have me seize until I die.

“I want to know,” Michael’s voice shakes the walls. “What the fuck that was.”

Xander paces back and forth in front of the desk.

He’s a talented actor, I’ve decided.

After all, it was him that slipped me the poison in the first place.

“The ball must go on,” Xander chirps. “This is the perfect time for you both to come together and reassure the people. Show them that in adversity we find strength…” He points between Michael and me. “In each other.”

I scoff. “Do you ever think of anything besides politics?”

His lips turn down, a sinister glaze coasting through his eyes.

The door flies open and Prince Tristan storms through, a dark energy swirling around him, making it feel like the temperature drops just from his presence.

I shiver, my heart thumping in my chest.

He does not look happy.

“Tristan,” Xander snips. “It’s always death that brings you around, isn’t it?”

Tristan’s footsteps are heavy, his long black jacket floating out behind him as he cuts across the room. Xander’s eyes widen and he backs away until he bumps into the lip of the desk.

Quick as a flash, Tristan’s hand shoots out, gripping Xander by the face until his cheeks smoosh, his glasses pushed until they’re crooked and bent on his forehead.

“Tristan, please,” Michael sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

His jaw tenses as he lifts Xander up until his toes are kissing the ground.

There’s a tendril of worry for my cousin, but I’m so surprised by the sheer energy radiating from the prince that I’m frozen in place, a heady sensation flooding through me as he dominates every other man in the room just by choosing to be in it.

My eyes track along the rings on his fingers, moving over the thick veins in his hand. My thighs press together when I remember that same hand dipping between my legs while dozens of people watched, none the wiser.

I regret not taking the opportunity of feeling how much I affected him when I had the chance.

“A family member has just been poisoned in our home, yet you still speak to me as if I won’t slice up your body and feed it to the mutts for dinner,” Tristan spits.

Nausea rolls through me at the visual his words create.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, Your Highness,” Xander stutters out, wincing when Tristan’s grip tightens. “I’d be so gamey, not an appetizing meal at all.”

The prince sneers, dropping Xander to the ground, and I rush over, crouching beside him and helping him to stand.

“Be civilized,” I snap, glaring up at Tristan.

His eyes rage like a wild storm, all of his playful banter gone as if I made it up in my head. My heart stutters against my ribs as I hold his stare, and for the first time, I get why they fear him. My uncle’s warnings blare through my brain.