“Cold,” she whispers, and her hand travels down the side of his throat as Emmanuel swallows.
My eyes flick to Charlotte gaping at them from the sofa. Glad to know I’m not the only one amazed by what’s happening.
Amelia runs her hand along his bicep. “Strong,” she says and steps into his space, pressing herself against him, the wall at his back and bravery at his front.
She leans up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips against his. “Soft,” she whispers into his mouth.
Emmanuel’s hand cups the back of her head as she pulls back just enough to put her wrist to his lips.
“That’s a difficult spot to cover,” he says, eyes pinned to hers.
“I want to be able to see it every day, whenever I want. Mark me, Emmanuel,” she commands.
A snarl rips from his lips, and his fangs dart for her skin.
“You can take more,” she tells him, and his eyes flash crimson, never leaving her gaze, but he unlatches himself without drinking and plasters his body against the wall. He breathes heavily, a finger swiping her blood from his lip.
“You can call me Hartley,” she says, eyeing her new marks.
“It suits you,” Emmanuel says, eyes on fire.
Hartley grins at him, then backs away, a small moan escaping her as the pain sets in.
Turning to me, her eyes flash red. “I look forward to having a ruler worthy of my service,” she says with a deep bow, and her fangs release for the first time through her thankful smile.
“And what service would that be?” I ask curiously, lovingher confidence as her acorn-brown hair shifts into layers of honey, dark caramel and chocolate.
“Whatever is required. Although, I’m quite skilled with a bow. I hunted for my village before I was captured. Perhaps you can train me to fight for you.”
My suppressed smile and raised eyebrows find Emmanuel. “I know just the trainer.”
Hartley follows my gaze and spins back to Emmanuel.
“You?” Hartley asks, tilting her head, eyes running up him. “Who are you?”
He spins his blade. “The devil you never see coming.”
Del snorts in the corner, fingertip pointed on the map in front of Second. Emmanuel’s blade is airborne and pinned in Del’s heart before his snort fully forms in my ears.
“Fuck!” Del shouts, yanking the knife from his chest.
Emmanuel winks at Hartley.
“Asshole,” Del spits and throws the blade back at my assassin with perfect aim.
Emmanuel catches it between his fingertips, nose wrinkled at Del’s blood soiling the steel.
Del fires a blazing gaze at me, and I shrug. “You’ll be fine in two minutes,” I offer in response.
He rolls out his shoulder and stabs his finger back on the map. “As I wassaying,” he tells Second, who chuckles softly next to him.
I smile at Hannah, catching her attention.
“Guess I’m last,” she whispers from the sofa next to Charlotte.
Second abandons the map and charges across the room to Hannah. “Where do you want it?” he asks abruptly. “And pick a spot that will do for a shit-ton longer than one year.”
“Mark me next to my other scar.”
