“I’mnot marrying,” I begin, “…anyone. But definitely not some mobster Kerz—”
My father emits a shrill whispered hiss to quiet me and takes my elbow again, moving me further away from the Kerz.
“Anya, you have no idea what is taking place here.” He looks behind his shoulder and lowers his head. “This deal… I’ve made mistakes. I have no funds to cover them. This is… if the Kerz will do this, this is… this is… this is quite simply the only solution that we have.”
Oh, I’m not listening to him anyway, because the general himself is walking toward us, his eyes on mine, the same reptilian yellow gaze as Quietly Bossy burning a hole of fear and—again—arousal through my chest. When he reaches my father, he pushes him out of the way and stands just in front of me.
I’m as frozen as a rogue planet.
He takes my hand. Like Quietly Bossy, his hand is unusually warm, almost hot. It’s an odd sensation when coupled with the visuals of his reptilian markings, which are glowing like the others. He, too, is strikingly good-looking, as if he were human, and the same absurdly normal shock of black hair sits atop his head, but his is wild and spiky.
“There is no problem,” he says, looking at me, lifting my hand to his lips. When he kisses the back of my hand, the heat of his mouth travels through my body, along the underside of my arms, down my ribs, and then to the center of my legs, where it throbs. Salaciously.
He smiles. It’s a somewhat insane smile, impish without a trace of real fun. The wave of heat is chased by a cold shudder of fear, which also throbs in my groin. It’s sexual, arousing, andall wrong.
Still holding my hand, he explains to me in a hypnotic voice:
“Anya Mann, you desire to marry me.” This first bit is sensual, and it wraps itself around my insides.
It doesn’t last long.
“…because if you do, you will live in a palace like a princess on Zastrathk Mor. You will breed my children, and our families will be joined—”
“But—”
He cuts me off with a dangerous shift in his features, to a darkness that eats me alive. “This is the first thing,” he says quietly, “I will train out of you.”
A cold, sexual quiver rolls through me, lower still in my abdomen.
“This is… not legal,” I whisper. It’s a last-ditch effort to… what? I don’t even know why I said it. I wish I could take it back.
He smiles. Then he laughs. In Kerz, he yells something over his shoulder. It makes all the Kerz laugh. Except the quiet and dangerous one.
I shift my eyes, filled with anger and pleading, to my father. He looks away. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he mumbles.
“Take Fiona,” I say. “Tell them to take Fiona!” I look back at the general, who is still holding my hand, smiling in a smug, amused way.
He doesn’t want Fiona, his face is saying. Gods know why. No one ever wants me over Fiona.
I can see, also, that I have shot myself in the foot, because my plea has only made him want me over Fiona more.
“This can’t be legal,” I whine. I mean, it can’t, right? There are treaties. I don’t know what they say, this was never any of my business, but my father has always assured me…
More laughter. Scariest of all, from the general.
“It’s notlegal,” he mocks.
My father looks at his feet.
I see it all now, clear as a bell. Nothing here is legal. I’ve always known it, deep down inside, but I’ve looked the other way. People don’t get to this level of wealth, this level of inter-systemic power and wealth, throughlegalmeans.
Behind every great fortune is a great crime, isn’t that the saying?
Still.
“I’m not…” I stammer, shaking my head. “I’m not… I won’t. I won’t do it.”
“You will not,” the general repeats. His tone is dangerous. His markings are on fire. I rip my hand from his grip. I feel myself shaking my head. Or maybe my body is shaking and my head is still.
