Maisie

Actually, I knew what I was expecting. After threatening to murder Lyon because I made out with him, I didn’t expect to see him pounding into another woman. On the same night!

There it was again. That stupid ache in my chest.

I was beginning to consider getting a knife to cut out my heart when I smacked into a wall that had appeared out of nowhere.

Pain exploded up my nose and I grimaced, taking a step back. And I found a shirtless Soren peering down at me.

His eyes narrowed as he glanced at where I was coming from. "Why are you out this late at night?"

A flush ran up my neck. "I was, uh, getting fresh air."

"Fresh air," he echoed. "Outside Mercer’s window."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes. Fresh air. Mercer’s window apparently has the best h oxygen in the entire mansion. Very crisp. Five stars. Would totally recommend—"

He shook his head and began walking away from me like he couldn’t be bothered to hear the nonsense I was spewing.

Moonlight filtered through the trees and caught on his skin. I stifled a gasp.

He was covered in gashes, deep, ugly cuts still oozing blood across his back and shoulders. One particularly vicious wound on his torso looked like it had something metallic embedded in it.

My feet moved before my brain could catch up.

I reached out, my fingers lightly trailing down his bare back, tears stinging my eyes. His skin was fever-hot beneath my touch.

"You’re still hurt," I whispered.

Soren went rigid. For a single heartbeat, he let me trace my fingers along the skin. And a faint shudder rolled through his powerful frame, accompanied by a soft... purr.

Then he recoiled like I’d burned him.

"Don’t touch me," he snapped, voice cold and sharp.

He started walking again, faster this time, heading into the mansion. I hesitated for a moment before following him.

"Why haven’t you healed yet?" I asked. "You’re supposed to heal fast—"

"I haven’t had time to get the ash bullet out yet," he grunted without slowing down.

I walked a little faster and under the light, I saw the bullet stuck in his torso. I started to speak, but he waved me off. "Not now, Adams."

He slipped past the foyer and into the kitchen, yanking the fridge open to grab a bottle of water.

"Soren."

"What?" he snapped, and whatever soft "thank you for saving my life tonight" shriveled up and died on my tongue. He looked irritated by me. Maybe even disgusted by my presence.

I pushed aside the feeling of hurt and got the question out there. "Who is Kisten Hunt? And why did he seem so convinced that I was his betrothed and half-sister?"

For a second, I could’ve sworn tension rolled through Soren’s body before replied coolly, "Pay him no heed. Being exiled to live apart from civilization often drives men insane."

Something about his words rubbed me off as untrue, but I knew pushing Soren wouldn’t get me the answers I was looking for. I was going to have to fish for them myself. But I pursed my lips. "Exiled?"

He grabbed a cabinet overhead and pulled out a first aid kit. "They’re like rogues, ostracized for their crimes against the crown. But unlike your rogues, ours have formed an enviable network through Costa Ridge, bellying on the strength living in numbers gives. And they have grown bold enough to give themselves names and titles. They’re like an itch we can never get rid of."

I nodded. "So Kisten isn’t really a prince, then."

The cabinet slammed shut a little too hard. "What’s with the fifty questions, Adams? The man nearly raped you and you’re interested in his progeny, why? Considering taking his offer?"

I flinched at the viciousness in his tone. "You speak like you haven’t done the same to me. And yet, here I am."

His nostrils flared and his eyes glowed. "Don’t you dare group me with barbarians. I’m not in the business of raping unwilling women."

The unwilling was a barb at me and it hit precisely where he wanted it to. Because I hadn’t been unwilling when I came all over his fingers.

"And why exactly are you here, anyway? Trailing me around like you want something?" he hedged on, voice cutting and cruel. "Did you feel a little tingle from watching Mercer? Did it turn you on? Need me get off?"

Fury flushed my skin red. "I was worried about you!" I yelled at him.

And he flinched, like I had said something truly awful.

"But I realize now how stupid that was," I added. "You saved my life and I thought the least I could do was thank you—"

Soren let out a bitter laugh. "You suffer the delusion that we did this for you." His lips curled in a sneer. "We did it because the Queen wouldn’t have liked you presented in a damaged condition."

The words stung.

"You said I belonged to you," I said quietly, like that meant something.

"You are under our protection."

"Soren—"

"What do you want from me, Adams?" His violet eyes were dark, agitated, exhausted.

I should have walked away, should’ve slammed the door in his face, but regardless of how hurtful his words were, seeing him bleeding softened the rage.

I swallowed and nodded at the bullet. "Let me take that out for you."

I must’ve some kind of kink for punishment. Because that was the only reason why I would be offering to help a man who insulted me at every chance he could get.

But I shouldn’t have bothered, because when Soren spoke again, his voice was like ice. "I have Tessa for that. You’re just the help, remember?"

The reminder hit like a slap and I turned for the hallway before he could see the tears misting in my eyes.

"Oh, and Adams?" He called. "You are to take the next couple of days off. Until the wedding. We can’t have your presence agitating Tessa, as it seems you need to be constantly reminded what your place is."

I slammed the door shut behind me.