Page 21 of Queen of Tempests and Sin

‘Go on…’ he commanded.

I took a breath and continued, but could barely hear my own voice for the heartbeat hammering in my ears. ‘He had this… gross sense of entitlement, believing he was far superior to others… deserving of special treatment. Everyone, including me, had to cater to his every whim without question.’ I took a long sip of wine. Of course, I wasn’t talking about a husband. I was talking about Drakos.

‘And… how did you escape this marriage?’ His eyes narrowed, and he propped his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers.

‘Easily.’ I said, setting the glass down with exaggerated calm. ‘I emptied one of his accounts and went into hiding. I’m… still not divorced, actually.’ I looked down, voice soft and breathy. ‘I lied about that.’

Si ran a hand across the back of his neck and glanced away. ‘I’m sorry I lied,’ I said in a wispy sort of voice. ‘I am going to get divorced. I’ll never go back to him.’ Gods, give me the Oscar already. The tragedy; the wounded girl. I was selling it like Broadway on fire.

His gaze returned to me, sharp as a blade. He gave a single, curt nod.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I whispered as he took a drink of wine.

‘Yes…’ he said slowly.

‘Are you a’—I gulped—‘a demigod? Your speed and your eyes earlier. It freaked me out a little.’ I worried my bottom lip, trying to look fragile and curious rather than calculating. A heartbeat went by as he held my gaze—his eyes full of power and secrets—and then he laughed. A sexy sound that tightened my lady parts and caused a flurry of butterflies to cascade through my stomach. Damn it.

‘Would it bother you if I were?’ his deep voice rumbled softly. I shook my head slowly, taking in the sharp edges and smooth lines of his face. I could feel it in every fibre of my being—sex with him would be volcanic. A man who would hold me down, pin my wrists and fuck me hard—aggressively—in the way I’d fantasised about. I knifed the thought curling out of my consciousness.

Focus. Focus, you horny moron.

I needed to tamp down my raging libido… I wanted to grind on him like a stripper on a pole.

Si reclined in his chair like sin incarnate, confidence radiating off him in wave after infuriating wave.

‘I can tell you want me, Amelia.’ he said, voice dripping with smug confidence.

‘Good gracious. How does the weight of that ego not crush your spine?’

His eyes glistened with a dangerous amount of lust. Then he winked. He freaking winked.

‘Oh. My. Gods. No one is this arrogant.’ I scowled, grabbing the wine bottle and pouring more like my sanity depended on it, downing half the glass in one swallow.

‘I can smell your arousal, Little Red.’

I choked, violently, nearly spraying wine across the damn table. ‘You can… what?'

He laughed again—deep, honey-dark—the sound was a beautiful thing, and my heart fluttered like a thousand stupid butterflies trapped in a cage made of lust.

These pesky butterflies are getting ridiculous. I may need pest control or something.

The main course arrived: Parisian gnocchi, butternut squash, caramelized fennel, pomegranate, and apple cider beurre monté. I savoured every bite. Our conversation drifted to lighter topics—interests, hobbies, the sort of mundane things that felt oddly intimate in this setting.

‘Tell me about your family,’ he said, setting down his napkin and lifting his wine. ‘Parents?’ I looked down at my hands and shook my head. ‘Siblings?’ My head snapped up. He watched me closely, squinting slightly. Has he checked my phone? No, impossible. My device security was impenetrable.

‘One younger sister,’ I answered carefully. ‘Who I adore and will protect with my life.’ His expression softened slightly, and he nodded. ‘How about you?’ I asked, turning the question. ‘Do you have any siblings?’

He gave me a lazy smile. ‘Two brothers. One I’m close to, the other is an asshole.’

A shocked laugh burst from me. ‘Wow. Direct.’

‘Life’s too short to sugarcoat assholery.’

‘Parents?’

His eyes darkened, and he stiffened. ‘No.’ Silence descended thick and syrupy for a few seconds, so I cleared my throat and changed the subject. We talked about animals, and I shared the story that had cemented my decision to go vegetarian.

‘So your stepfather served your pet rabbit for lunch?’ His expression was horrified but even so, he was trying hard to hide his amusement.