“I’m not sure that would be appropriate for a woman of your delicate sensibilities.”
“I might get some ideas for our wedding night,” I counter.
I don’t know how I expected him to react, but it’s not by nipping at my neck. I jump, swatting him away as he grins.
The man slit someone’s throat earlier for touching me and now he nipped at mine for asking if I could go to a feast during which I assume there will be a lot of public sex.
I have made it my mission to know a man on sight—to understand what motivates him so I can use it—but Henry is so mercurial. The more he shifts and changes before my eyes, the less certain I am that I’ll be able to understand him enough to get what I need from him.
“I know you’re curious. You’ve been let out of your cage and now you want to see everything. But you are not, under any circumstances, to leave your room after dinner this evening,” Henry says firmly.
I arch a brow. “Will you slit my throat if I do?”
He chuckles darkly. “No. I’ll do worse.”
The words have menace, but his lustful smile promises something else entirely.
“There’s worse?”
“Perhaps I’ll drag you down into the dark with me. Abscond with you into some wild corner of the forest and have my way with you.”
The threat heats my blood, but I cross my arms. “Let’s get one thing straight. This will not be the kind of marriage where you tell me to stay. I will not be brought to heel, no matter what kind of monster you fancy yourself. If you make yourself something to fear, I promise I’ll make myself worse.”
His eyes light up at the challenge. “Is that what this is? A competition to be the bigger monster? Don’t threaten me with a good time. I have done things the likes of which you can’t imagine.”
“Then let’s hope you’re not foolish enough to find out that you’re wrong,” I say. “You were so judgmental about me killing in the city, but you slit the throat of a man you knew by name for trying to hurt me—a wife you don’t even want.”
“You have no idea what I want. If the difference between us is unclear, let me break it down for you. You kill drunk men as a hobby. I kill violent ones out of necessity. Every day, I make choices for the best of my people?—”
“So do I,” I say through gritted teeth.
His brows shoot up, and I realize the mistake. I’ve tipped my hand. Now he knows my murder spree is for more than just amusement. It was safer to let him believe that. Safer to keep him far from the things that he could use to hurt me.
He cocks his head to the side, assessing me with new interest. My mind races, searching for anything I can use to deflect from this topic.
A red splotch on the white stone floor catches my eye. “Is that blood?”
Henry’s head whips around, gaze narrowing on the spot instantly. He reaches a hand back to tuck me behind him.
I take a step back, toward the veiled statues, but my foot slips on something. I flail for purchase, but Henry is too far away and I land on my backside. I glance down at the floor. A bloody streak mars the wood where my boot dragged through the mess.
A low growl to my right makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn my head slowly, and there, in the darkness, two cold blue eyes stare back at me. I hold still as the beast steps out into the light. A white wolf prowls from the shadows behind the statues. As it emerges into the candlelight, I can see it’s not pure white; there’s ashy gray mixed into its coat. It lets out a low, rumbling growl, lips peeling back over a row of sharp teeth.
“Henry,” I whisper.
The wolf sniffs the blood on my boot and nudges my right foot with its snout. I try not to flinch or make any sudden movements, but my hands tremble.
“What did you drag in here, Ky? You know better than to bring your prizes in the gallery,” Henry says. His voice is soft, torn between scolding and teasing.
The wolf chuffs and jumps excitedly, turning to glance at the dark before returning its attention to me.
“This thing is your pet?” I ask.
Henry frowns. “He’s not my pet.”
“But you named him.”
“Yes. Kyrin. It means ‘little mystery.’”
