Page 35 of Threaded

He wanted to know nothing about her. Only things that would help him grip onto his hatred.

She continued her silent assessment, and though he tried to hang fiercely to his resolve, he felt his soul as it was stripped bare in the dark quiet of that temple. A wave of raw anger and despair and frustration rose in the wake of her stare, trying to lock her out, trying to hold on to something, anything that he recognized as him …

But he was fooling himself. He was nothing. Worthless. Things that were worthless couldn’t be protected, especially from assaults by wicked little females.

He was pulled from the dark pit of his thoughts by movement across her face. Movement that he absolutely did not expect.

Shesmiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile. It was a smile that burned and stole more than she’d already taken. Somehow, someway, this girl who had to be just barely twenty-one gave him a smile that screamed of knowledge, power, and dark promises.

It was positively terrifying and beautiful all at once. A dark goddess stood before him.

A goddess he hated.

“Then welcome to my court, Andrian.” She extended a hand to him, the skin still faintly glowing, illuminating her tan skin. He stared at that hand and that skin for seven long heartbeats, every piece of him warring with another. Nothing was stable anymore. Up was down, left was right. Right was wrong.

Right was wrong.

And it was on that last thought that he finally lifted his own hand, placing it into hers, the skin of their palms meeting in the faintest of touches.

Yesterday, when he’d seen her step out of that carriage, when their eyes had locked and his ears had rang so intensely he’d thought his mind might collapse like a dying star, he’d written it off as an anomaly. A chance headache. Nothing to dwell on.

Now, though, when his skin met hers … it was as if he’d been struck by lightning, burning through his veins and searing his skin from the inside out. It was finally enough to stir his magic from the dark pit where it had hidden, slithering out beneath his skin like a dark serpent. Only years and years of training kept him from ripping his skin from hers, from flinching away from her touch and her gaze and her presence. The only acknowledgment he allowed himself was a slight narrowing of his eyes, his world pinching just slightly smaller around the edges.

If she’d felt that too, she didn’t react. Not a single muscle twitched in her frustratingly perfect face.

Interesting.

The quiet side in his head used that as an opportunity to speak out again: that, perhaps, he would be better off fearing her than hating her.

He brushed that side away, yet again.

No matter what, life had taught him that hatred was preferable to fear. Preferable to anything.

After all, hatred was the only thing that guaranteed survival in this world.

Finally, slowly, Andrian rose to his feet, his body again moving without his permission. Once he’d risen again to his full height, he noted with feigned disinterest that she was taller than he’d expected. He also noticed toned muscles beneath the bare skin of her arms and legs, and the hand that held his was rougher than it appeared, her palms calloused in a way that suggested training in swordplay.

He still hated her.

But he couldn’t deny that he was curious.

His guard dropped for just a second, and that was—apparently—all it took. She tightened her grip on his hand and yanked hard, her strength yet another surprise, pulling him until they stood close enough to share breath. His heart pounded in his chest as her scent touched his nose. She smelled of eucalyptus and cedarwood and a hint of jasmine, heady and sweet and delicious.

Utterly intoxicating.

He forced his eyes to blink, forced his mind to snap out of its reverie or whatever thefuckwas happening to him.

So fucking weak.

She drew him even closer, craning her head up just slightly until her lips brushed lightly against the shell of his ear. Her soft breath whispered against his skin, the hair at the back of his neck standing on end, as she spoke words only for him.

“I look forward to learning more about you, Andrian. I amespeciallyeager to hear why you said those words, when the only emotion I can see on your face is contempt.”

He’d fought enough to make his disdain noticeable, then. He was still weak, but at least he wasn’t completely useless.

If he was going to disappoint her, he might as well start now.