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I narrow my gaze, shifting enough to glare at him over my shoulder. “Keep threatening me, drifter,” I fire back. “And I’ll make you my meal for the night.”
“I’d love to see you try.”
Goddess, it would be a fight too. He would struggle, not giving an inch as we sparred, until our bodies were wrecked with exertion and strung tight with need. Only when I’d given him every last ounce of my strength would he concede, allowing me an opening to strike his flesh with my fangs. And he’d love it, too, I’d make sure of it. I’d make him love it so much he’d hate himself for it.
Desire pulses strong and achy between my thighs at the visual playing out behind my eyes, and I force myself to snap out of it. I whirl back around, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me worked up.
The prick gets under my skin.
At least Jagger is fun. I still haven’t figured out why he’s with Zev, who is the exact opposite of all things fun.
Gilded carriages with blue and gold details roll by us on the wide, cobblestoned streets as we make our way towardThe Garden of Flame—the tavern my supplier owns. The people of Destowne are used to travelers, but they’re a wary sort, giving us a wide berth and suspicious gazes the deeper we venture into the heart of the city.
The crisp autumn air is drenched in the smell of the sea, coupled with the earthy scent of stone and glass and metalwork that make up the incredible buildings crowding the city. Gold and ruby and emerald and every precious gemstone in between cast rainbows of color along the roads, the citizens dressed as ornately as the structures around them.
A tendril of heat skates along the inside of my forearm, and I discreetly look down, not wanting Zev to see the message.
Are you dancing tonight? Will you think of me while you do?
My heart flutters at Six’s message, but I write back quickly before I revel in the little comment too much.
Hard to think about someone I’ve never met.
We can remedy that. He replies back in a blink.Come to Lingate.
My brow furrows as I search for the proper response to a question he’s asked before, only this time, Iamgoing to Lingate. The place I’ve purposefully avoided but dreamed about going all my life.
The place where I’ll finally meet the Collector. The male responsible for not only my suffering, but that of so many after his unnecessary war, all in the name of balance and peace. Which, of course, is horseshit. He ruled with fear, not compassion.
“What are you glaring at, succubus?” Zev asks, and I drop my arm, thankful the gold writing has already faded.
I scramble for an answer, then sigh in relief when I find one hanging on the tallest building in front of us. “That,” I say, pointing at the giant portrait of the Collector’s son. “What an absolute bastard.”
The prince sits on a throne in the portrait, dressed in the royal colors of red and black, the fabric covering his body tailored to every lithely muscled inch of him. Raven-black hair shapes his face, looking silky smooth as it feathers the sharp line of his jaw. Eyes of silver pierce the skyline, as if he’s seeing right through every soul who dares to look at him.
Zev grunts behind me, and I have to turn to look at him.
“Was that a grunt of agreement?” I ask, shock billowing through me that we may have one thing in common.
He grunts again, but adds a little nod. I smile as if I’ve won some great victory.
“You agree with me on something,” I say, smirking. “Are we going to be friends now?”
“He claims he doesn’t have any friends,” Jagger answers before Zev can reply, and I glance down at him where he casually walks by the horse’s side. “But we both know that isn’t true, right, Zev?”
Zev cocks a brow at Jagger, then stiffens behind me. “I don’t have any friends.”
Jagger laughs.
“Everyone thinks the prince is a prick,” Zev continues. “It’s doesn’t make you special.”
Ah, but I plan to kill him too. Right after I kill his father.So I am special, because no one is as reckless to attempt that.
I look up at the picture again as we slowly pass it, hate simmering in my stomach. He may have been a youngling when the attack came upon my family, but rumors say he’s worse than his father, already gathering his own collection of magical creatures, all imprisoned in that damn gilded palace of theirs.
He deserves to die just as much as his father.
And then the Treasure too, the Collector’s most prized possession, the creature he took for a wife after the prince’s mother passed. The Treasure that he covets so much only those within Lingate’s high walls have ever seen her. Taking away anything he loves seems like suitable act of revenge, seeing as he took everything from me.
