“I would rather marry another old pervert than pour my heart out to some feral forest wolf.”
I stumble away. “You think I want this?”
She crosses her arms and looks completely bored by my outrage. “Do you want to hear all about my secret pain, Henry? Want to be my white knight stealing me away to your creepy forest fort?” She huffs a cruel laugh. “You’re not a hero. You’re just another asshole impersonating a good guy.”
She storms by me, bumping my shoulder as she passes.
Anger twists in my chest as I stalk after her, but she’s too wound up for me to get a word in.
“I’m not your friend,” she says. “I’m not your family. I’m just a person who knows how it feels to be currency. Just like you.”
“Harlow, I?—”
“You and I are nothing but necessary to each other,” she says as she turns and shoves me back against the marble statue. “Donotbe an obstacle.” Her voice is laced with menace.
I hate to prove her right, but maybe growing up in the fort has made me a little feral, because her viciousness turns me on.
“Or?” I ask, arching a brow.
“Or I’ll be forced to remove you from the board in this little chess game our parents are playing.”
I hook an arm around the slim curve of her waist and twist us so that she’s pinned to the statue. I bracket her body with my arms and slip a knee between her thighs. She looks up at me with murder in her eyes, and I’m reminded of how good she feels pressed against me.
“Is that what it is? A chess game?”
I lift my knee so it’s flush between her legs. She tries to shift away. My jacket slips down her shoulders, revealing the pale swell of her breast straining against the dark silk dress. I let my gaze linger.
“Are you foolish and feral enough to believe you’re more than a pawn?” she taunts. “If so, I suppose I won’t have to worry about it being difficult to eliminate you if I wish to.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“One option down, plenty more ideas to go,” she says.
I slide my hand to her hip, but she doesn’t even flinch. I wonder if she’s thinking about last night. This close, it’s hard to think of anything else. But that’s the kind of blinding sense-memory that will be my demise. I brush my fingers down the silk on her hip to her thigh. My knuckles graze something hard.
She freezes as I slide my hand inside the slit and palm a sheath on her thigh. She has a fucking dagger.
My mind flashes back to the ceremonial blade she gripped when she thought I was going to sell her out. Did she just want me to know she had a weapon in hand?
“Planning to use that?” I ask.
“Planning to give me reason to?” she counters.
She’s so sure of herself that I can’t help but be curious. I act on instinct alone and bring my hand to her throat, not to actually hurt her so much as to see what she’ll do. I know better than to poke a bear, yet I can’t seem to help myself.
My fingers have barely brushed her neck before she swats my arm aside, grips my wrist, and twists it around until I’m forced to drop to my knees.
“What in the Divine-damned Drained Wood do you think you’re doing?” she snaps. “I’m not some meek toy for you to break. Next time you lay a hand on me, I’ll shatter it.”
“Next time?” I ask. “You think I’ll try again?”
She shoves me forward so hard I barely have a chance to catch myself before I hit the gravel.
That was unexpected. I jump to my feet and turn to assess her.
She’s fuming, her pale face flushed gray with anger.
“This was illuminating, but I have to go get ready for dinner,” she says through gritted teeth.
