Page 60 of The Death King
I took the seat across from him, feeling my heart drop at the same time as my ass.
A servant came from nowhere and removed the silver domes that covered the plates, revealing the steaks, potatoes, and greens underneath. Steam immediately wafted to the ceiling, like they hadn’t brought the food until a moment ago.
The servant excused himself and left.
Talon hadn’t moved. He was carved from stone, his eyes contemptuous as always. “Wine or scotch?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
He reached for the amber bottle and poured two glasses. The wine was left untouched.
He took a drink, not a sip, and then returned the glass to the table.
“You didn’t have to do all this.”
He grabbed his utensils and cut a strip of his steak. “Would you rather I march into your chambers and bend you over?”
That would have made it easier. Less intimate. “Yes.”
Instead of starting his meal, he stared at me, his head slightly cocked, his eyes hungry—and not for food.
“I just want to get this over with.” I avoided his gaze, his stare too much.
“Didn’t seem that way last night.”
The fact that I sat there willingly, that I noticed how hard his chest was the second I walked in the door, that I felt a thrill down my spine when I remembered his kiss, was such a fucking betrayal. A betrayal to my father. To the people of Scorpion Valley. To everyone on this continent. I wanted to sleep with the enemy…a despicable act. I grabbed my fork and stabbed it into a piece of broccoli that I wouldn’t eat.
He continued to stare at me, arms still across his chest. “Tell me how I know you.”
My eyes were locked on the broccoli stem with all my might, refusing to flinch or give any cue that he was right.
He continued his focused stare. “Will you ever tell me?”
I put the broccoli in my mouth and forced it down.
Silence passed. Heavy silence accompanied by a burning stare.
After I chewed it, I looked at him again.
His stare was as intense as it always was. The man didn’t need to breathe or blink. Sometimes I wondered if he was truly alive because he didn’t have the same needs that I did. There was something different about him, something I couldn’t pinpoint.
He brought the glass to his lips and took a drink, finishing it off until there was nothing left behind but a single drop. When he returned the glass to the surface, it came down with a forceful thud. “I think your hatred is misplaced.”
I think it’s right on the fucking nose.
“There’s more to me than you realize.”
“Really?” I set my fork on the table and crossed my arms over my chest. “Then enlighten me.”
He stared, thick arms crossed over his muscular chest, eyes so black they were forever night.
I waited, counting the seconds as they ticked by.
His gaze remained hard.
“I’m giving you the opportunity to prove me wrong, and you have nothing to say?—”
“Because I don’t owe you my life story.”