Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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Sexual charisma charged the air around the Deniauds' guest, the reason why Marissa was now chewing on her thumbnail with long dusky lashes lowered over smoldering eyes. Rosa practically melted when he flashed her a quick lazy smile.
I think that he spoke, but I was too off-kilter to have heard it, staring in barely concealed shock. In a suit and a smooth jawline, he was devastating. With his brawny build and savage skills he looked as if he'd be at ease presiding over a boardroom, simmering with the kind of cold ruthless authority that would lead him to stab you in the throat with a silver-nibbed fountain pen stamped—Owned by The Boss—without hesitation if he didn't care for your report.
Or bend his secretary over his desk—my traitorous mind whispered.
"Tabitha? Are you alright?" Marissa asked.
Everyone's attention went to me. Mortification had my cheeks scorching with heat. I blinked rapidly, trying to remember what I was doing. "I'm sorry, which drink did you say?"
His eyes, the color gone as dark as obsidian, swept back to meet my astonished gaze. "A whiskey, neat," he repeated in a deep voice, before his fleeting glance returned to Rosa, dismissing me as if I were someone not even worth bothering to look at, let alone thank for my servitude. Just like everyone else within the upper ranks. Well, perhaps not Marissa, who gave me a little wink, and then mouthed when he wasn't looking—Varen Crowther—and fanned her face as if she were in desperate need to cool down while his attention was on Rosa.
Mentally shaking myself awake, I delivered Rosa her Martinez. But in my periphery, I slowly traced Varen's clean-shaven profile, utterly astounded at the brutal angles and graceful curves. The silky hair cut short with neat back and sides. The longer locks on top were artfully tousled in glossy waves from a strong forehead and an equally strong chin. The straight nose that I knew, with a slightly broken look to its bridge if you inspected it close enough, sat above full pouty lips, a rosy hue that belied the filthy mouth that had husked sinful things when we'd been together.
Inked flames wove up his throat to just below his jawline, just as I'd wondered.
Savage yet polished, refined yet wild in his imperious beauty.
Walking back to the wet bar, I tried to gather my scrambled wits, my fingers flexing over the rim of the silver tray. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed I worked on autopilot because a minute later I found myself with a whiskey, heading back to Varen.
"You obviously recovered quickly from your illness," Marissa said with a flutter of her eyelashes. And for one horrid moment, jealousy razed through my blood and I wanted to scratch her eyes out.
"I had an antidote flown in yesterday evening from House Simonis," Varen replied gruffly with a hard edge to his tone—almost a snarl.
