“You know nothing about me,” Sam said coldly.
“I know you ran after this last war because you were scared. I know you hid your demons and asked them to take a vow of silence. I know how you condemned those witches and left them to—“
“Lies,” he hissed.
He had to quell the shake his bones so desperately needed to let out. But he wouldn’t let her see him rage. He wouldn’t let her see how she affected him.
No matter how blatant the lies of her witches had been.
“Then tell me the truth,” Ana challenged.
Sam considered her a long moment, unwilling to let his face show any sort of emotion, and he nearly told her everything. He nearly told her how he’d been created. How witches had trapped him in this form so long ago. He nearly told her how he’d built himself an army to one day take revenge.
But he pulled a smoke from his pocket and merely lit the end of it and allowed that first draw’s fog to sit in his open mouth a moment before speaking again.
“I’m glad you’re liking the accommodations enough to decorate,” he taunted, his voice flat. “It’s always nice when people are so accepting of their new homes.”
Ana’s eyes blazed. “If you think this cell will hold me—“
“I don’t plan on holding you,” he cut in.
“What are you talking about?”
Sam smirked at the confusion on her face. “You think I’m going to let you escape?”
“I think you’ll be too busy protecting your kingdom to care what happens to me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m going to give you to them,” he seethed. “I will dangle your pretty little body in front of those fucking kingdoms and watch them march themselves into my trap.”
She laughed that laugh that made his insides curl.
“You don’t know the Firemoor legions,” she drawled. “He will march in here after me, and if you think he will stop at taking my head, you’re wrong. I heard General Prei’s plans before I killed their King. Every one of them wants your technology. They want your people. They want to know how the King of Shadowmyer has such a prosperous kingdom.”
She pushed off the wall and came to stand in front of the bars again.
“I don’t even have to kill you to bring your kingdom down,” she teased in a sing-song voice. “All I have to do is be here. In your prison. They’ll take it down for me. They’ll rip each other apart trying to be the first one here, to be the person to finally kill me. Because they all want that glory. To prove their cocks are as big as their egos. And the only person that will be left standing is me.” She paused at the bars, hands sliding up the iron like they once slid over his cock, fingers wrapping and tightening with the teasing gaze in her eyes.
“I willdanceon the ashes of your kingdom while you pray at my feet.”
“The only person that will be praying is you, and it will be for my scythe across your throat,” he growled.
”There are a few nights I’ll never forget,” she snapped.
He slammed his hands against the iron bars, shadows curling on the floor. “You will beg for me, wicked girl. And not from your knees for salvation. But rather from your stomach. Your bleeding cheek will feel the floor beneath my boot—“
A sinister laugh left her. “How many times have you gotten off at that image?”
“You willpleadfor Death’s mercy, Deianira.”
“Stop talking about yourself in the third person, Samarius,” she drawled as she turned in her circle and glared back over her shoulder. “Someone might think you’re just a fairy tale.”
“A nightmare.”
“Amonster.”
