Page 84 of The Vampire's Mercy

A second gentle hiss.

“Awesome.”

Did she like me?

After a few beats of staring, she slithered away, heading for the rock, disappearing inside.

“Paris?” King Prick called.

Dammit. “Yeah?”

“Come here, please.”

I almost protested because he might be naked and, well, just no tothat. But I decided to obey before he forced me, especially seeing as I was going for the good-little-thrall vibe.

He’ll see right through it.

“Coming,” I answered, sliding off his bed and taking deep breaths, making sure I stayed cool, calm, and easy breezy.

Thick steam engulfed the bathroom, so dense and hot that my skin flushed, sweat beading to the surface in an instant.

The king sat in the bath, his back pressed against the wall, arms stretched out across the edge. His scarlet eyes burned through the steam, making my skin itch.

“Sit.” The command came as physical force. Like a puppet on a shit load of strings, I went down opposite him, crossing my legs. The wet floor soaked through to my backside.

Great.

He watched me intently. “Did you enjoy your quiet time?”

I pushed my shoulders back. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Silence fell between us again. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for his lead, and doing my best to not eye up his muscles.

“Medusa is not Elio’s biggest fan,” he finally said.

“I gathered.”

His eyes were focused on the water now. Unblinking, as if in a trance. “I’m not sure why.”

“You can’t like everyone,” I answered.

Man, this floor wasn’t comfy for my backside. Couldn’t you catch an anal something from prolonged moisture to the arse?

“I suppose not.” He blinked, lifting his eyes to me. “I understand why you hate me. I do.”

I sat straighter, keeping silent. Why were we going here? What would it achieve other than me losing my shit again?

“We all bear the scars of war,” he added. “Those memories aren’t broken, unfortunately.”

His scars? I’d never considered them. Why would I? He was the leader of the invading force. In my opinion, he didn’t get to have scars because he’d started it, and now got to sit pretty while my sister?—

No. We weren’t goingthere.

“Have you ever considered your purpose?” he threw out.

“My purpose is to kick your arse.”