RISING (#2, of Crows and Thorns)

Chapter 57

As our gazes locked a strange mixture of feelings washed across his handsome face: shock, astonishment, and something dark that I could neither understand nor read. His coppery skin paled as he continued to stare unblinking like a reptile.

He broke into motion.

His Familiar, like his shadow, mirrored his footsteps as he strode straight for me.

It was a direct line of intent.

Me.

He was after me.

My mind pathetically scrambled for an innocent reason why he'd want to speak with me. Perhaps the Horned God just needed some assistance from a servant. Maybe he wanted me to run back to Mr. Deniaud with a message.

In pure panic, I glanced furtively around. I didn't know what to do. Didn't know if I should run. Didn't know if I should even try to run. And in truth, there was no freaking way I could. Not with Master Sirro stalking straight toward me.

I went to bow—

His power slashed out faster than a striking snake.

I wheezed as the air was punched from my lungs. I flew backward, the tartan blanket falling away, the coffee cup too. My back slammed against a knotted tree trunk. Hot, searing pain sliced down my spine. Small, serrated leaves in autumnal hues rained down all around me. I struggled to suck in a breath of moist earthy air as thrumming, lethal power slithered around my body, tightening and vibrating against my skin. Ancient dark magic tasted my flesh, licking and nipping and prodding as it tried to figure out what I was.

The Horned God reached me.

His hand snapped upward, cold fingers wrapped around my throat, and I let out a squeak of panic. He stepped closer so there was barely any space between us. His eyes narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring as he drew in my scent. He bared sharp, white teeth as an unearthly growl like an otherworldly beast rumbled from his throat.

I choked back the scream that bubbled up my throat.

Undiluted terror obliterated my mind into chaos. I was terrified Master Sirro was going to discover I was other. Terrified that he was going to end me and demand the life of my aunt as well.

Dark bronze eyes intently scanned my face as if he were cataloging every detail, every single freckle that marred my cheeks and nose. The length of my nose and across my wide full lips, along the curves of my heart-shaped face, my brow, and arch of golden eyebrows...until they settled back on my eyes.

Holy. Freaking. Hellsgate!

Somehow I managed to hold the intense gaze of a Horned God and not fall into a blathering quaking mess.

Part of me thought it wasn't a good idea to stare. The rest of me knew I had no choice.

Thick dark lashes framed eyes that curved slightly upward. I noted the straight nose and straight, sharp teeth. The elegant planes of cheekbones and the neatly trimmed beard. Deadly and beautiful. Enticing and charming...well usually charming.

My heart jackhammered in my chest as we stared at one another, the moment drawing out, longer and longer and longer, until finally his hold on my throat loosened and his whole demeanor softened. The color of his eyes lightened to honeyed amber.

He let go, only to gently, almost tenderly, draw the locks of hair that had fallen across my face and tuck them behind an ear, a small smile on his lips. His touch was icy cold and I stifled the shiver that wanted to rattle through my shoulders.

"Who are you?" he asked, his brows drawing over his rich amber eyes. His voice was soft yet demanding.

"Tabitha Catt," I answered quickly, completely falling apart with frazzled nerves. And, curse it all, I did the same thing I had done with Varen. I couldn't stop the ridiculousness from spilling from my mouth. "I'm a Between Maid," I hastily told him, and I carried on rambling, this time much faster, the words almost stringing together as one. I told him about my job and who I worked under. I went on to explain how proud I was to be given my role at such a young age and the responsibilities that came with it, and that perhaps my exacting high standards and expectations from my team was why the other servants referred to me as the Uptight Spinster, not just because I wasn't married. And, as I was sharing my techniques about polishing and the best way to tackle dusting the intricate lighting in high places with a feather duster that could be angled just slightly to get up and around the crystal, Master Sirro broke out into a loud, delighted laugh that shook his entire body.