Page 155 of Ravenrose

Theo smirks back at him before dropping lazily into one of the chairs by the hearth with a full glass of whiskey.

Unsure what’s expected of me, I linger awkwardly in the doorway to the washroom until Ayer steps toward me. His eyes immediately drop to the angry red scar between my ribs before they take a sharp turn toward the ceiling.

He looks irritated—maybe furious. Without a word to me, he catches my wrist and pulls me behind him as he stalks toward his desk. Taking a seat, he pulls me down with him.

My ass has barely grazed his lap when I jump back out of it in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Sit on my lap.”

My eyes widen. “What? No!” I take a step back, though his grip on my wrist prevents any further retreat. I try pulling away, but his grip only tightens.

Theo makes no move to intervene, lounging on his chair as if it were a throne, his shoulders slouched back with his feet propped up on the table. He throws back another shot of his whiskey as he watches our exchange, all while casting wary glances toward the hall door.

Ayer tugs me closer, his strength winning out against mine. “There’s no time,” he says quietly. “You need to play the part.” His silver eyes flash, and I see his fear reflected in them again.

Reluctantly, I allow him to pull me back into his lap. I sit perched atop one of his thighs, his leg resting between both of my own. My split skirt falls away to each side, leaving almost my entire leg exposed.

I’m shaking.

Ayer’s rough hand slides slowly up my exposed thigh in an effort to settle me, but it has the opposite effect. The unexpected contact sends wicked jolts of electricity running from his fingers through my skin, with a direct line deep into the core of my abdomen.

My breath catches, and it takes everything in me not to jump when I feel the heat of his breath brush my ear.

“Keep your eyes down,” he whispers. “Whatever happens... play along.”

My heart beats hard in my chest, and I hear his voice again, softer this time. “I’m sorry.”

I twist around until I can see his face—his eyes. The darkness in them holds a deep sadness, and perhaps even a tinge of regret, and then he wrenches his gaze away, sharply directing his attention forward.

The door opens and soldiers pour in, sweeping the room with their eyes while keeping a casual hand on the hilt of their swords. They’re wearing the same black armour as Ayer and his men. I feel their eyes linger when they get to me—see their gazes drop to my exposed thigh, the one on which Ayer’s currently tracing small, soft circles into my skin.

I’m aware of every breath, every movement either of us makes.

The queen enters, and there’s no mistaking her. Even with the power-blocking rune on my wrist, I can sense the power thrumming off of her. The feel of it sends a shiver down my spine. Dark and dangerous, just like that of the Raven.

She wears an elegant—yet simple—dark gown. Traditionally formal. Her dark hair is a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. Equally dark eyes find me immediately, and I’m struck by their intensity. Remembering Ayer’s words, I break our stare, dropping my eyes to the ground.

She’s one of the last half-demons we know of. Powerful. Once formidable enough that the fae hunted her kind nearly to extinction.

I peek back up through my lashes for another look. The queen’s eyes seem devoid of life. Cold and cruel, they scan the room slowly. A look of disdain appears on her face as she takes in Theo, who lounges lazily across from her in his chair. Irritation sparks in those otherwise dead eyes at his apparent lack of respect.

Then her attention shifts toward Ayer.

And me.

The captain’s body goes rigid beneath mine.

“Well,” the queen drawls. “Don’t rise on my account.”

“Why? You’re still queen of nothing. My allegiance is to the king.”

I stiffen at his dismissive words, and silence floods the room. A heavy, deadly silence.

Did he really just speak to the demon queen like that?

Ayer’s chin finally lifts to meet the queen’s cold glare. His expression is equal to hers, cold and impassive, as he adds, “Your Highness,” as if it’s an afterthought.

The queen’s lips curl, but she says nothing.