As much as I loathe that he’s puzzled it out, that he now knows how close I’d come to him, I don’t deny it. None of it matters anyway. I break from his gaze to look out the window.
“Even if that were true, it doesn’t change anything,” I push out undermy breath.
“I think it might,” he says softly, “depending on what it was that changed your mind.”
I’m not sure if he’s asking, but I don’t say a word. I’ve already said too much, given too much away. My pride won’t let me voice that it was the idea of him bedding that female that made my decision for me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he wounded me.
He takes my chin between his fingers and brings my eyes back to his.
“I’ve known Siserie for over two hundred years, and not once have I ever desired to have her in my bed.”
My stomach pits and I hesitate to pull away, his eyes seem so sincere. And yet, I’ve seen the female, and nothing any male on Terr could say would convince me that she is undesirable to him.
“She seems entirely convinced of the opposite,” I say, withdrawing my chin from between his fingers.
“I am uninterested in the thoughts or feelings of that female. I would, however, be very interested to hear of your own desires once this issue is put to rest,” he says, stepping around me when a knock sounds at the door.
Resting against the edge of a sturdy desk, his posture is relaxed and somehow still every bit the king’s general. His face settles into a mask of assertive confidence, and I chide myself for finding it attractive.
He tugs my arm and settles me between his thighs. Before I can protest, he says, “Enter.”
His arms snake around my waist and he pulls me close, until my back is braced snugly against his chest.
“Watch,” he demands.
I tense in his arms, furious at the order or the fact that he’s handling me, or both. I move to pull away as the door swings wide.
Kishek enters first, Siserie following close behind. Judging by her dress, she apparentlyhadconsidered the gown I’d seen her in perfectly suitable for everyday attire. The sheer dark green silk of her dress follows every curve of her body, artfully sewn to resemble the scales of a serpent, weaving from the ground to her throat. A handful of scales thoughtfully placed in abundance to obscure her more private regions.
A seductive smile kicks up the edges of her lips and she casts a smoldering gaze at the general from under her thick, fluttering lashes. Her smile falls nearly indiscernibly when her eyes trace the line of his hands at my waist. But she recovers quickly, lighting up when she eyes the general once again.
Kishek steps around her and hands the general a folded piece of paper, which he immediately discards onto the desk. Unlike the one I’d seen at her mother’s house, its seal is intact and the script addressing the letter to the general is written in a different hand.
“Thank you,” the general says to his friend, dismissing Kishek from the room with a glance.
She takes a sultry step forward, her voice soft and alluring when she says, “Is there something I can do for you, General? You know I am at your complete disposal, as always.”
If her words were not enough for me to devise her meaning, her body language leaves no doubt in my mind as to her intent. I stiffen, preparing to remove myself from between them when the general’s arms tighten further. Her eyes flick to the sweep of his thumb on my belly and her face twists in disdain.
The hateful look she bears down on me convinces me to smile at the female sweetly and settle my back against the general’s chest. He’s made it clear that I’m not going anywhere until I’ve witnessed whatever this is, and the female seems like she might prefer it if I were anywhere else in the world than exactly where I am. While I don’t think too much about it, I find that more than any other feyn I’ve come across thus far, she might be the one I’d like to disquiet the most.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” he says, his lips brushing my temple as he speaks. “I believe the two of you have already met.”
“Not officially,” she says, her lovely face twisting under the pressure of her clenched jaw.
“Siserie,” his voice grows deadly, “this is Shivaria,mi’ajna.”
Her eyes go wide, even as my throat burns. I push down every memory threatening to overwhelm me when she dips her head in a shallow bow of greeting. Surprised by her response, I can’t help but wonder what shehas heard about me that would explain the sudden shift in her demeanor upon hearing my name.
“Isn’t she lovely?” he purrs, brushing his lips along the base of my neck.
“She is exquisite,” she agrees.
I don’t take the compliment to heart. It’s clear that she would agree to anything the general says in this moment, and the male behind me is subjecting her to a particular type of torture that I’m loath to admit I’m enjoying.
“I’m glad you agree,” he says, “Now, can you explain to me how Shivaria came to the conclusion that you and I are sharing a bed?”
The female tenses, paling notably when she says, “I’m sure I never meant to give her that impression.”
