Page 115 of Vengeance and Vipers

‘And why would they?’ I say bitterly. ‘You saw the brand on my chest, Iron. You must know what it means.’

‘That you were a slave.’

I nod, still not looking at him. 'They branded symbols into my flesh. Sometimes, I was beaten or given the lash. Sometimes, they’d take a knife and draw it through the scars of the symbols that they put on my skin like they were canceling them out, and then they’d brand me with others.’

I turn back and finally look at him when I don’t feel anything from him, trying to glean something from his face, but he gives me nothing.

‘Who?’ Hesoundsangry, but I have no idea why.

What does he care? Incubus pride thing, maybe.

‘I told you. It doesn’t matter who,’ I say as I turn away. ‘Revenge isn’t an option.’

I take a few more steps to the tree line before I look back at him again, done with this conversation.

‘Don’t tell anyone about it.’

I mean it as a demand, but it comes out like a plea.

Mildly disgusted with myself, I leave him in the forest, and I’m glad he doesn’t follow me as I take the path back to the house.

When I get inside, I see Tabitha lurking. She beckons me, but before I can go to her, the library door opens, and Maddox steps out.

‘I thought that was you. Can I have a word?’ He asks me.

Afraid it’s something I’ve missed for the party tomorrow, I nod and come into the library with him. I sit down in front of the desk, and I put my game face on because I’m dealing with Maddox.

‘Is something wrong?’ I ask.

He regards me with a detached expression. This doesn’t bode well.

He doesn’t speak for a minute. He’s probably just trying to make me uncomfortable, so I just stare at him because I’ve had enough of being intimidated today.

I suppress a shiver as my mind is drawn back to the barn, and I push it away.

Finally, Maddox stands.

‘Drink?’ he asks.

I nod because, after the past hour or so, I sure as hell could use one. I accept a brandy and take a sip, leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes.

‘You seem tired,’ he remarks.

I crack one eye open and glance at him. ‘So what if I am?’ I countered. ‘Do you really care whether or not I’m sleeping well?’

He looks amused but doesn’t answer.

I give him a look.

‘Spit it out, Julian,’ I say. ‘I’d like an early night before the party tomorrow.Issomething wrong, or are you just bored?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he says.

He sits back behind his desk, but then he seems to think the better of it and moves around it to lean against it in front of me instead. It’s as if he’s trying to put me more at ease, make our interaction less bound by his social constraints, but all it’s doing is making me nervous.

‘I have a proposition,’ he finally says.

Great. Another proposition … because the last one went so well.