Scarred (Never After #2)(28)

“A warning,” he replies.

“I saw you yesterday,” I blurt. “In the town square. You were hiding your face like quite the little creeper... is that because you didn’t want to be seen?”

He steps closer until his frame towers over mine, strands of his disheveled black hair falling over his brow. “So many questions for someone who gives nothing in return.”

My legs freeze in place, like I’ve stepped into wet cement and let it dry around my feet. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“That could take a long time.”

“You’re about to marry into the family. We have nothing but time. Unless Michael tires of you before the wedding and chooses one of his other whores instead.” He cocks his head, his eyes calculating as they blaze over my skin. “Or maybe… you have a secret agenda.”

Irritation rushes through my chest, expanding like a heatwave. “I am not a whore.” My fists clench at my sides. “And just because you have no propensity for morals doesn’t mean it extends to others.”

He reaches up and cups my chin, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Such a smart mouth. Pity my brother won’t know how to tame it.”

Fire blazes through my veins so fast my stomach cramps. “I don’t need to be tamed.”

“No?” He smirks.

“I stand on my own.”

“Yet you’ll come here every Sunday, pledging your life to a man in the sky.”

I crane my neck to maintain eye contact as he presses against me, his breath hot as it coasts across my mouth, making tension twist down my spine.

“If you want a god to worship, ma petite menteuse, no need to look so far.”

Scoffing, I reach up to push him away even as arousal floods through my center and pools between my legs. “You’re disgusting.”

He grabs my wrists, pulling me flush to his body until I can feel every hard inch of his cock straining against the fabric of his clothes. “I’d teach you to love begging at my feet.”

My core contracts when his words hit my lips, and I suck them in as if his breath is my air. My fingers clench his shirt, but instead of pushing him away, I drag him closer. “I’m tired of you playing games with me,” I hiss.

“Is that what I’m doing?” he questions.

“Stop.” Anger snaps at my nerves. “Nothing will get in my way of being Michael’s bride. Not even you.”

He leans back, his eyes flaring as his grip tightens around my wrists.

And it’s only then that I realize what I’ve said.

Stupid girl.

“I see.” One of his hands drops from my arm and rises along my side, goose bumps sprouting in every place his fingers touch.

“You thirst for power?” he rasps, his palm ghosting across my collarbone before wrapping around my throat. “I can fill you with it until you scream.”

My stomach jolts so fast my legs tremble.

His stare drops to my mouth.

A loud bang echoes off the cathedral walls, and I jump, icy dread trickling through my insides.

“Leave me alone,” I plead, pushing at his chest.

He brushes his thumb against the underside of my jaw before he releases me. My body grows cold as he backs away, but I don’t drop his gaze, even as my heart slams against my chest when I hear footsteps making their way toward us.

Any second and someone will see.

Tristan keeps his eyes on me for a second longer before spinning around and disappearing down the hall, like one of the ghosts rumored to haunt the corridors.

But his touch has branded itself on my skin.

And when I turn around, Xander stands in front of me, his beady eyes narrowed, and lips turned down.





CHAPTER 16





Tristan





Disgust and desire mix in my gut and explode outward, a volatile poison flooding through my system.

And that’s what I’m starting to believe my little doe is.

Poison.

Every time I see her, there’s this need to push her until she snaps, breaking apart that painted-on poise she uses to fool the world. And snap, she did.

She thirsts for the crown.

Unfortunately, she won’t find it at my brother’s side. The only thing she’s guaranteed for herself is death. But I can admit that beneath the annoyance and the uncomfortable situations I find myself in while I’m with her, there’s a budding respect. Admiration for the way she’s able to slip into her role so effortlessly—and it’s because of that, I’ll make sure her execution is quick.

She’s a cunning little temptress. Far from the innocent, blushing girl she claims to be.

Gritting my teeth, I storm through the hallway off the cathedral into the main foyer. My fingers slide along the wood banister of the large princess staircase that sits beneath a sparkling crystal chandelier, splitting in two directions that lead to opposite wings of the castle. My boots click on the gleaming cream tile as I make my way up the left side to where my private quarters are. Oversized portraits line the ornate walls, and their eyes burn into me; centuries of royalty judging me through the paint, as if they’re as disgusted as I am from the way I allow this woman to twist me up and avert my focus.

I pass by people in the halls; a guard and a few maids, but they don’t look my way, knowing better than to bother me. Other than Lady Beatreaux, everyone gives me a wide berth. I haven’t decided yet if the reason she doesn’t is that she’s drawn to my power and unable to help herself, or if she’s simply stupid.