His fingers flex at his sides. That was the right move. Good.
Kasaros doesn’t need obedience; that bores him. He wants chaos. Craves it. So, I let him think he’s getting what he desires. If he noticed me initially, he’d know I’m not the bride he chose for this year’s hunt. Yet he told me he allowed it by walking away.
He steps closer, and I don’t retreat. My breath hitches—not in fear, but in a way that makes his gaze drop to my lips, the way a predator watches the delicate tremble of a rabbit’s throat.
His fingers trace the mark on my sternum, slow, thoughtful. Too familiar. My stomach knots, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I let my breath shudder on an exhale, let my lashes flutter just enough to bait him.
Kasaros stills.
Yes. That’s right. See me differently now.
He watches me for a beat longer than he should. Then he exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as if exasperated. But his pupils have dilated. His weight shifts toward me. A test. A tell.
Got you.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, little rose.” His voice is a lazy threat, dark and knowing. “Do you think you can charm your way free?”
I know how to bend men’s desires, how to weave words like a snare. But can I outplay a God? Can I trick the trickster himself?
A whisper of doubt curls through my ribs, cold and sharp. I’ve spent my whole life pretending to be weak. Now, I have to pretend to be strong. And Kasaros is watching too closely.
One wrong move, and I’m dead. One right move, and I’m something else entirely.
I force a slow breath and then smirk. Let him think I am exactly what he wants.
“I don’t charm,” I murmur. “I conquer.”
His nostrils flare. Ah, there it is—that sharp edge of interest, the one he doesn’t want me to see. I lower my gaze, allowing a flicker of uncertainty to cross my face, and his hand moves fast.
He cups my chin. Forces my gaze back to his. I catch a glimmer of chagrin in his eyes, almost as if he couldn’t stop from touching me. I hold his stare.
“There you are,” he croons, almost reverently. “I knew there was a schemer behind those pretty eyes.”
“Do you?”
Questioning him once, he enjoyed. But twice? His grip tightens, just enough to warn. “Let’s get one thing straight, little rose. I never lose.”
My lips part, my breath catches—not in fear, never in fear—but in something else, something dangerous. Something that sets his bloodlust alight.
“Then let’s make this fun,” I whisper. “A wager.”
A slow, wicked smile carves across his lips. Damn it, he likes this too much.
His grip on my chin loosens just enough to let his thumb drag along my lower lip. “I’m listening.”
I take a slow, measured breath. “If I reach the end of the Labyrinth unsullied, then you’ll free every bride whether she’s claimed or not. And you’ll end the Bride Hunt. For good.”
His chuckle is molten, sliding down my spine like silk and steel. “And if you don’t win?”
I meet his gaze, unwavering. “Then I become queen and you keep your game. Nothing changes.”
“Not good enough.” He shrugs. “It’s mine, regardless.”
“Then you keep me… or whatever it is you want from my blood.”
A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face. Then his smirk sharpens, and he steps back, releasing me.
“Oh, little rose,” he purrs. “You may regret that. Your blood is more valuable than you know.”
