“Maybe you should,” she replied, her pale gaze meeting his. “I think you know exactly what I’ll do with that freedom.”
Cason swallowed and nodded. He knew that fierceness in her eyes. The Night Terror did not retire just because the man who owned her no longer held the leash. Brela would tear through every raid supporter and artifact collector from here to Anfroy. She’d cut until they no longer existed or she took her last breath.
Brela sighed. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t stop that if you had a chance.”
“Would you target Serill?”
“No.”
No hesitation. He believed her. “I assume Gerrart would be your first target?”
“I would like to introduce every inch of that man’s soft flesh to Night Carver. Slowly. Painfully. Over many days.” Now she grinned—such an evil, wicked smirk. It should not have delighted him to see that glint of cold and calculated ruthlessness, and it should not have sparked the fire and lightning in his chest, but he couldn’t help that rush. Brela seemed to notice the shift in temperature as she raised her eyebrow and purred. “Would you like to watch?”
Cason choked on his breath. He didnotexpect her to say that, and that’s why it hit him so hard. He’d slept next to an assassin who was famous across kingdoms and entertained herself with torturing her victims. She’d threatened to do the same to him once. She might have been—no, shewasmore terrifying than twenty-three Wraturo against one.
He’d spent the nightnakedwith her, letting her trace his skin with her fingers and tease him with that knife in her hands. He’d kissed almost every scar on her body and made that assassin whimper at his touch.
He’d do it again. Looking at her standing in front of him with those tight pants, vicious grin, and unfair beauty, he wanted to do itnow.
Four hells, what was wrong with him?
“The correct answer is no, I would not like to watch,” he replied carefully, trying to banish the image of their bodies tangled together.
Brela dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “Your heat would suggest otherwise.”
Cason grinned, his traitorous tongue darting over his lips before he could stop himself. “My heat is because my thoughts were very much occupied with something else.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at his answer, nearly as much as her question had thrown him off balance. At least his heat seemed contained to just their space, but the noise she emitted from her lungs might have echoed off the castle.
“Shit,” she hissed, tightening her grip on the blade in her hand. Color didn’t fill her cheeks, though. She leaned forward, and the look she gave was full of mischievous intent. “You should be careful with teasing me, Cason. You have no idea how much I would enjoy“—her eyes darted over his shoulder as she straightened, her voice clearer—“sparringwith you again. It’s been a while since I’ve fought full strength.”
Cason felt the presence of someone else in the courtyard and all heat left the space. He turned to find one of Serill’s overnight guards approaching. “Oudar, you should be resting.”
The man bowed slightly. “Yes, Captain. I was on my way, but the prince has requested that you join him for breakfast in his private dining room. Ansel has gone to retrieve the other… two.”
Oudar paused, glancing at Brela with a hint of fear and awe in his eyes. No surprise that he had likely drawn the short stick to have to come and interrupt what they assumed would be a sparring session between their captain and the Night Terror. He’d already heard some of the Guard talking about the display they’d gathered to watch yesterday morning from the windows of the castle. They still didn’t approach their captain if they didn’t have to, but he could have sworn they looked at him with a little more respect. He might have lost, but they saw what he was capable of.
“Anything else?” Cason asked, unable to hide the irritation in his voice that the man was lingering. At least annoyance wasn’t far off from his usual demeanor.
Oudar straightened. “No, Captain Valkip.” He saluted before hurrying away.
Cason’s lips twitched in a satisfied smile, glancing at Brela who trembled slightly beside him. “I think you were in the middle of saying something about me teasing you?” She shot him a glare but he just folded his arms. “Something about how much you would enjoy—“
“Shut up,” she grumbled, though it was more playful than anything.
He smiled wider. “It does appear that you’re the one struggling for control right now.”
“I am perfectly in control right now,” she growled through her teeth, her words still falling short of actual anger. And control.
Cason glanced to her hands, where her grip was so tight against the knife, the blade had cut into her skin and blood dripped off her palm to the grass at her feet. Somehow this fierce assassin was forced to draw blood just to keep herself restrained around him.
He began walking toward the castle. “Your blade would suggest otherwise.”
He didn’t need to see her face to know that he’d won this round. Brela forced out a sharp hiss, swallowed audibly, and begrudgingly followed.
* * *
Serill wantednothing to do with his father today. Not just because he’d been an ass toward Brela yesterday, but because it was clear she wasn’t going to share any real information about Valisea while he was around. The more the king cursed at her, the more Serill saw those walls build up around Brela and her friends.
