He keeps that stupid look on his unfairly handsome face. His expression portrays apathy, yet Aerin senses the disapproval simmering under the surface. She keeps watching him closely, her own anger looming.
Aerin has known this anger all her life, it never leaves her.
“I’m forced to fight for every freedom I have, and in case you haven’t caught on, you being here is just another way the King has taken that from me,” Aerin snarls.
“I’m not here to report on your whereabouts.” The Dragon-Fae has the gall to act as if that’s reassuring.
Painting a nasty smile on her face, Aerin stills. The smile is practiced, sharp, a warning flag for whatever comes next.
“If you really believe that, then maybeyouare the stupid one.” Aerin holds the smile, watching as he struggles against his own anger. She keeps going, egged on by the way he seems to be teetering on the edge of something. “My father wouldn’t send you here for any reason other than as a warning, a message. Don’t deceive yourself into thinking anything you’re doing isimportant.”
Anger flares in his bright blue eyes. Flames of orange dance inside of his pupils, like wrath reincarnate. He is breathtakingly, irritatingly, beautiful.
Aerin plows on, knowing she’s close to something. She doesn’t know why she wants it so badly, only that she does—his wrath, his rage, and everything that lies beneath it.
“I don’t need your protection. You are a pawn in a game you don’t even understand, and unfortunately for both you and my father, I do not fold.”
The Dragon-Fae fires back his response, “I am not here to report on your whereabouts!” His wings flare outward in a burst, jaw clamped shut again as soon as the words pass over his lips.
Aerin finds a sick sort of satisfaction in getting a rise out of him when he was resisting it so intently.
“I can prove it,” he says, tucking his wings close to his back once more, standing straighter.
Aerin says nothing.
“I know I am not a pawn of your father’s because I don’t work for your father.”
Aerin’s heart rate spikes, her stomach climbing to her throat. Like a collision she sees coming yet can’t do anything to stop, he keeps talking.
“I work for Bruin Tolvare.”
Recoiling as if she’s been slapped, Aerin feels like a knife has been plunged into her back. It twists as she finally uncovers the thing that’s been causing Bruin to lose sleep.
A new type of anger blooms inside of Aerin. No longer a resigned fury towards her situation, the contract, her father. No, this is something new. The scorching of Bruin’s duplicity, so hot and bright Aerin thinks she just might burn up if she can’t let it out.
Carefully, and with the utmost control, Aerin speaks. “We have an event at seven tonight.”
Something like guilt paints the Dragon-Fae’s features.
Aerin’s not interested in his pity. She says nothing more before storming to her bedroom, slamming the door so hard the entire apartment shakes.
Aerin tries and tries, but she can’t wrap her mind around the fact that her brother, her best friend, the good one, the kind one, the one who sympathizes with her and stands up for her…
Aerin tries and tries, but she can’t get the knife out.
7
AERIN
“Are you sure it’s appropriate?” Quinn’s nervous voice comes through Aerin’s phone speaker as she glides her palms down the bodice of her very revealing gown one last time.
“Oh, it’s absolutely not appropriate,” Aerin assures her friend, “but itisstunning.”
“Uh, yeah,” Quinn deadpans, gesturing to Aerin through her phone.
The dress is floor-length, skintight, and black, overlayed with dark-green tourmaline stones in patterns that elongate Aerin’s already tall body. The neckline plunges to just under her sternum, wide enough to border on obscene. A slit rises high on Aerin’s thigh, displaying her bare leg. Her blonde hair is swept elegantly to one side while her ears, fingers, and neck are lined with jewels, each sparking green to match the stones of the dress. The only piece of jewelry that doesn’t match is the gold ring on Aerin’s left index finger. Its small red stone glints despite the low light.
Father will hate a dress that flaunts her figure so openly. Will hate the jewels in the house colors of the Serine Royal family, theMarrows. Will hate that Aerin continues to defy him no matter how tight his grasp over her becomes.
