Page 18 of Blood and Thorns

I thought about it a moment, knowing releasing some of my pent-up aggression was probably a good idea. Nodding, I agreed. “Set it up.”

Langdon bowed dramatically, more at home in some royal court rather than as my enforcer. His flamboyant, flirtatious personality was a stark contrast to mine. But that was the point; people saw his pretty face and charm before they felt his dagger in their back.

Although Lang preferred to play with his prey a little beforehand, while I preferred getting to the point. My eyes dipped to the collar of his shirt, to the scars that you could only just see hidden beneath the fabric. Rather than fear the flames that had almost killed him, he embraced them.

Another whistle, and I looked up to find concern darkening Langdon’s eyes. “When did you last sleep?” he asked.

A buzz drew my attention back to my phone. Caden was escorting her this way, her bag held tightly in his fist. “I sleep enough.” A lie, but I wasn’t exactly feeling conversational with the man who held a parallel trauma.

Langdon and I were both kids when we were hurt, almost killed. Him by being trapped in my family’s home while it was set aflame, and me by the woman who’d lit the match.

Opening my desk drawer, I lifted the mask to my face, snapping it in place. Only seconds later there was a knock, and Caden opened it up to sweep the girl inside. She was hesitant, her eyes darting around, as if memorising everything about the room before finally settling on me. I expected fear, maybe a little apprehension. Not stubborn determination.

She may look like a delicate little rabbit, but she hadsome steel in her spine that fascinated me. I almost smiled, but then I remembered she came with Graves, and that strange warmth in my chest chilled to ice.

“You have him in a cell,” she said, her tone acerbic.

I shrugged. “He owes me money.”

“How can you be so cruel? You’ve already taken everything else from him. At least let him have some dignity.” Her hands fisted, but she made no move to approach.

Cocking my head, I relaxed back in my chair.“Get our prisoner,”I directed to Langdon, purposely changing the language to put her on edge.Langdon left without argument, leaving Caden to lean against the wall where he once was.

“Well?” she continued, losing some of her confidence the longer I left her question unanswered.

I decided to make her a little more uncomfortable, taking my time to appraise her from head to toe. Her dress was a pale blue, fitted around the middle to flare out slightly at her hips in a tease. It finished at her knees, revealing her curvy legs and dainty feet.

When I finally dragged my eyes back up to her face, I found her skin had pinked beneath my scrutiny.

Good.

“Why are you here,belle?”I asked, watching how the flush on her cheeks deepened even further at the nickname.

“It’s Ara.”

I allowed myself to smirk this time, but only because my mask hid it. I knew her name; Morris immediately gave me everything I wanted to know about his not-so-precious daughter.

“I’ve come for my father,” she said, her earlier bravado lessening. I was almost disappointed, craving more of a fight. Which was unusual for me considering I usually required full obedience. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“He’s my prisoner. What good will it do allowing a man who owes me so much free?” Both warning and amusement laced my tone. “I have a reputation to uphold, Miss Grey.”

She lifted her chin, a flash of resolve burning across her features. “He’s sick.”

“An addict,” Caden added, and Arabella’s head jerked to him with such renewed fervour that I had to suppress a demand for her to return her attention to me. It was irrational, but I wanted those pretty eyes of whisky and gold on me alone, and no one else.

“Please,” she said, her glare not matching the way she begged. We’d have to work on that. “There must be some way.”

“Do you have my money?” I was just teasing at this point. Of course she didn’t have the money, but I was enjoying watching her try and reason with a man with no morals.

“No… I can’t.” Ara paused, frustration simmering in the tense set of her jaw. “Surely there’s something else you want?”

I sat forward, her eyes widening a little when they darted to my mask even as I kept my voice disinterested. But there was nothing disinterested in the way my muscles tensed, or the electricity that charged the air.

“Be specific, Miss Grey. What exactly are you offering me?” My skin felt tight, anticipation thrumming through my veins at the possibility of having her.

Arabella swallowed, and I watched the delicate roll of her throat. “I–”

The door crashed open without warning, and Morris was thrown to his knees beside her. She immediately went to help him stand, only for him to shove her away.