Josephine's voice kills any man who hears it-except for the assassin sent to capture her for the king that's been chasing her all her life...but what happens when he decides he doesn't want to hand her over and keep her for himself instead?
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Was it the way his amber eyes tracked me from head to toe in a sort of primal fascination that had me lifting the unfamiliar weight of the sword upon my shoulder, or was it the fact that the anger from falling prey to him more than once in our short time of knowing one another was just too much to bear?
Maybe it was that I'd been tricked by his seduction and simply hadn't cared enough to stop it—hadn't wanted to stop it.
Or maybe it was that he'd made me weak in front of him, had allowed myself to be laid almost bare before him as he took one of the only spare kisses I'd ever handed out freely in my life.
Whatever it was, though, there was a spark inside of me with Oren's name on it.
A spark that I planned to crush.
Thoroughly.
The Sirens all around us formed a circle, cheering for the person they thought was their princess but was really only a cheap imitation of someone they'd pushed into the position with reckless hope in their hearts.
I wouldn't make them proud, but that didn't mean that I couldn't take Oren down—and enjoy it while doing so.
Olesia seemed pleased by my answer, even if it wasn't the proper or right way to address an Elder in this community like I'd seen other Sirens do.
I hadn't bowed my head low or use her title in a show of respect, but no one else seemed to notice or mind that I hadn't used the correct customs in their home.
"Wonderful. Orenthal, please step forward and choose your weapon."
In all the chaos of the past two days, I'd forgotten all about my own dagger that had definitely been lost in the shuffle, but that didn't make it any less satisfying when Oren chose his sword.
I tested the weight of the sword in my own hand that Olesia had handed to me before Oren had begun preparing for the sparring match, that other Siren's hands running up and down his body in a slow perusal of his form as if the two had once been lovers.
A lethal calm washed over my body, something serene and sedate swimming around in my veins.
Oren's eyes met mine, and a smile tipped up my lips.
This seemed to throw him off balance. The last time we'd spoken, it hadn't necessarily been on good terms.
He had been trying to bed me as another one of his mindless conquests that he so clearly must've had an abundance of if his powers of seduction and the title of demigod of beauty were any indication.
One minuscule twitch of his eyebrow upwards told me that he had no idea what thoughts were currently crashing through my mind like the waves from the Gold Sea upon the shore, staining the sand in a gilded sheen that swirled around in the air around us.
