Page 49 of Throne of Ice and Blood
The moment we step inside his living room, he closes and locks the door behind us. I raise my eyebrows and shoot him an exasperated look. He just gives me a pointed look back that I can only interpret as,you’re the one who keeps sneaking out.I let out a huff.
“I need to take a bath and wash off all this dirt and blood,” he announces as he starts towards his bedroom. “That dress you wore to the collaring ceremony is still in your closet. Put it on.”
I glance over my shoulder towards my room, but I find myself trailing him into his instead. Because Goddess damn it, I really can’t figure him out. In private, his entire being pulses with authority and control. But the moment that Bane and Jessina call for him, he leaps to obey their orders.
“You don’t want to go to this banquet,” I state as I follow him across the threshold and into his bedroom.
He turns on the faelights, bathing the neat and tidy room in glowing white light. Without even looking at me, he strides over to the armor stand that holds his black dragon scale armor whenhe’s not wearing it. I lean back against the white ice wall right inside the door and cross my arms.
“No, I don’t,” he admits while he begins removing the pieces of armor that cover his arms and chest.
His back is still to me, so I can’t see the expression on his face. But his tone is flat and emotionless. Since my collar is still on, I can’t reach out and push at his emotions to see what he’s really feeling.
“I don’t get it,” I say, frustration leaking into my voice. “Back in our city, you truly are the Shadow of Death. People tremble at the mere mention of your name.” I shake my head at his muscular back. “But here, you’re like a little lapdog who jumps at his masters’ command.”
He stops moving for a second. My heart starts pounding in my chest as he just remains standing motionless with his back still to me. Then he lifts off the final piece of the armor from his torso and drops it down on the armor stand. It lands with a heavy thud.
I can’t help but feel as if I’ve crossed a line that perhaps shouldn’t have been crossed. But I’ve committed now, so I find myself saying, “What happened to the guy who ordered me to bend over and put my hands on the wall?”
Draven remains standing with his back to me, now only wearing a pair of pants. The muscles in his arm shift as he flexes his hand.
My pulse thrums in my ears.
He turns around. And my breath hitches at the intensity in his eyes when he locks them on me. Fire flickers through my veins as a sly smile spreads across his lips while he prowls up to me.
I try to keep the nonchalant look on my face and to continue leaning casually against the wall with my arms crossed. But there is something about the way he moves that makes mestraighten and uncross my arms so that I’m ready. But ready for what, I don’t know.
Coming to a halt right in front of me, he braces one hand on the doorframe right next to me and leans closer. The light from the faelight gems glitter in his eyes as he cocks his head. That devilish smile on his lips widens.
“If that is what you want me to do, all you have to do is ask, little rebel.”
My clit throbs at the dark promises dripping from his voice, and an involuntary shudder of pleasure ripples down my spine. He’s not even touching me, and yet my body is suddenly pulsing with tension.
Goddess above, what am I doing? Draven is my enemy. He is actively hunting the one person who can help the human resistance take on the Iceheart Dynasty. And here I am, craving his ruthless bloodstained hands on my body. Again.
While desperately trying to block out those confusing and highly inconvenient feelings, I draw my eyebrows down in my best attempt at a scowl and let out a huff. “That’s not what I meant.”
His eyes gleam. “Wasn’t it?”
“No. It was just an example. To demonstrate my point.”
“Uh-huh.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and then lets his hand drop from the doorframe. “Like I said. I need to take a bath.”
For far too many seconds, all I can do is to stare at that hot as sin smirk on his stupid fucking mouth while ridiculous and absolutely inappropriate desire runs amok inside my very infuriating body.
He arches an eyebrow. “Are you staying for the show or…?”
It takes me another moment to process his words. And at first, I can’t make sense of them. Then my gaze darts down tohis hands, and I finally realize what he has been doing since he dropped his hand from the door.
Undoing the fastenings on his pants.
Heat sears my cheeks, and I snap my gaze back up to his face.
He lets out a smug chuckle.
Narrowing my eyes, I level a stare full of challenge on him. “Mark my words, oh Shadow of Death, I will put you in your place one day.”
With his pants still hanging low on his hips, he lifts a hand and draws soft fingers along my jaw. And the grin on his mouth would have made the King of Hell himself proud. “Come try it, little rebel.”
