Page 27 of The Path of Blood and Betrayals

What is she? And why do I react like this?

Is this why I followed her out into the hall? I could sense her magic, though didn’t know it?

Shoving the man away, she stands while he stumbles, leg bent. She didn’t lay more than two hits on him and yet he looks as if he’s faced an entire legion on his own.I’m impressed.I was completely wrong about her and that makes her even more appealing.

Heaving, she leans against the wall, red fingers gripping the stone. She is a sight. A vengeful spirit, something dark and alluring with a bloody line across her chin. Such a wicked monster in sheep’s clothing.

Striding over, clapping, I watch her jump, eyes narrowed. A sheen of perspiration dots her brow and it’s those lips, so bright and lush, that hold my attention.

They look like the ripe berry her blood smells like.

“Impressive,” I murmur, tongue darting out to lick my bottom lip. “Not such a defenseless kitten after all.”

She glares. The fire in her eyes is a direct correlation to the fire in my gut at her nearness.

The same fire that dances between us. That compelled me to touch her in the hall. This pull, this heat, it sears me to the bone at her nearness. My lungs stutter as if my breath is stuck.

She steps back, as ifburned. She must feel it too.

“What?”

“That display.” My eyes fall to her hands as she shoves them into her cloak, pulling the hood over her face.She’s hiding.Do others not know of her magic or is she ashamed? “What did you do to him?”

She shifts, avoiding my gaze. “Nothing. I did nothing.”

Stepping closer, I cage her against the wall, daring her to move me.

Lifting her hand, I hold it to my face. Five long fingers, some marked with pale burn scars, catch my attention. The red on her fingertips fades, disappearing right before my eyes, sinking back to where it comes from.

“Then what’s this?”

She bites her bottom lip, fear so strong in her eyes, I nearly crumble. Is this from the attack, or from me?

Smiling, I lean close, inhaling her spicy violet scent. It reminds me of the heat of my homeland and the gardens that surround it.

She may be frightened, but it certainly isn’t of me. No, she’s all predator, a twin to the monster inside my heart.

A drop of scarlet falls over her pulse point and my nose flares, eyes trailing it over the deep scar around her throat.

Swallowing, I shove her away, and with it, the temptation to drink from her. No matter how alluring she might be, I’ve worked too hard for my control to let it slip now.

Her eyes flare at the quick release, confused.

“I can’t hear you,” she whispers, voice cracking.

Her shoulders drop, exhaustion lining her face. She looks to have had a ratherwellnight. Perhaps with the Matriarch’s brother.

I saw their touches, their silent communications. There’s a bond between them that I’m not privy too and it sours my gut, tinting my vision green.

Why would it matter to me? She’s not mine to claim.

“I said?—”

“No, I heard that.” She scoffs, ignoring my glare. “But I can’t hearyou.” She emphasizes, eyes falling to my heart. She stares and her opposite hand, now devoid of red rests lightly on my chest. “Well. Maybe not hear. Feel. Sense.”

Her touch scalds me and I have to fight off a flinch.

What is that?