𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Ninety-Two

    I wondered if it was the mask he now wore and the power he let loose, or if it was simply the people around us.

    He must have realized how cold he truly was because less than a heartbeat later his hands had warmed to the touch. His thumb, curving around my thigh, gave a slow stroke as if to say sorry. I ran a featherlight finger along his forearm to say it's alright. 

    Rhys indeed leaned in to bring his mouth to the shell of my ear, well aware his subjects had not yet risen from the floor. All of their heads bowed and looking down, hands on their knees as though they prayed. Prayed to some faithless god to grant them safety.

I could not deny some part of me felt a sick satisfaction.

The High Lord whispered to me, his words a soft caress while his other hand stroked the bare skin of my ribs in lazy, indolent circles, "Try not to let it get to your head."

I let the amusement shine in my eyes as I leaned back slowly, my back colliding with his chest. I felt the warmth radiating from him. The soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out. I inclined my chin to the side slightly, sparing him a glance from the corner of my eye before I purred back, "And what would that be?"

Rhys's breath circled my ear, his lips brushing against me as he gave one of his feline grins. "That every male in here is contemplating what they'd be willing to give up to have that pretty, red mouth of yours on them."

A soft and confident hum escaped from me as I turned my head to survey the crowd around us. Catching a few daring eyes who looked up, eyes who very quickly looked away as they saw the absolute menace of an expression on my face.

Not a blush to be seen. Why would I? It was true after all.

I was beautiful. I was strong.

I had survived and triumphed. Lost one battle and gained the war. I would not be so easily broken again. Would not retreat into myself as I would've months ago.

So I smiled as a laugh gave way, the first smile these people had seen. Let them see that pretty, red mouth, and my white, straight teeth.

Rhysand's hand slid higher up my thigh, the proprietary touch of a male who knew he owned someone body and soul. He'd apologized in advance for it—for this game and the roles we had to play.

He kept forgetting that I understood. That I knew this was simply a stage and we were the actors.

I leaned further into that touch, softly pressing myself further into his hard, warm body. Pressed so closely against him I felt the rumble of his chest as he at last commanded his court, "Rise."

As one, they did. I smirked at some of them, a smirk of challenge and amusement. A silent dare. My lips were parted ever so slightly as I looked across the crowd. Studying them with a lethal smile.

Rhys brushed a knuckle against the inside of my knee and my very being narrowed to that touch alone.

"Go play," He spoke to them all but his attention was not on them. No, I felt the pierce of his stare on me as he brushed his hands along my skin with a soft and yet clear touch.  I didn't loathe the fact.

His subjects obeyed. Music striking up in some far off corner as the crowd dispersed, a soft chatter drowning out the looming silence that had been there mere moments ago.

"Keir," Rhys beckoned, his voice cutting through the crowd like lightning on a stormy night.

    The mere whisper of a word from the High Lord's mouth was all that was needed to summon Mor's father to the foot of the dais. The blonde male bowed again, his face dancing with an icy resentment as he took in Rhys, then me—glancing once at Mor and the Illyrians.