Page 25 of Kill the Queens

"What were you doing in some dark alley?" The queen cocked her head and set herself on the railing despite the length of the fall behind her.

"Honestly?"

Farah arched a brow waiting for him to continue.

"I stumbled from the bar not long before, made it to the alley where I puked up my guts and then passed out until I was woken by a man getting his eyeballs crushed inside of his skull."

She managed to keep her face blank even as a sliver of warmth crept into her chest at the memory. She'd enjoyed that a little too much and if she could do it all over again…well shewoulddo it all over again.

He rubbed a hand over his knuckles as he walked up to the queen. The closer he got the better look at his bruises she was able to get. His face was nothing short of gruesome and somehow he was still handsome under all the swelling and dried blood. He stopped not even a foot away from her, his body angled to the space between her parted legs. Velvet stretched over her thighs.

"At first I thought you were a man," Reed said softly. "Then I wondered if the man had tried to hurt you first. Then I was impressed at how well you..." His throat bobbed as he struggled to find the right word. "Fought. But you kept going. Were you going to kill him?"

Maybe she'd wanted to. Maybe she'd wanted to prove that she could with her bare hands and no touch of the magic she'd gotten from the gods.Yet, she couldn't say that. Not to him or anybody else except maybe Ambrose. So the queen wrapped her hands around the edge of the rail and leaned forward, giving him a good view of her cleavage. Her beauty could be wielded like a blade and it was the most effective weapon in her collection.

Reed's eyes never left her face; he held her stare, hovering close enough she could touch him but far enough away she didn't feel as though he was about to shove her from the ledge. She gave a short laugh."I wasn't going to kill him."

His eyes pulled from her gaze only long enough to watch the slow smile stretch across her face. Reed lifted a single brow and without a word the queen knew he didn't believe her.

"Why?" His single question floated in the air between them.

Why wasn't she going to kill him? Why had she been out there? Why did she feel the need to claw her way to the top of the food chain? Why? Why? Why?

The stupid question went off like an alarm inside the queen's mind, spinning her thoughts into circles. Around and around the question went and answers came to all its variations but she couldn't speak them out loud. Reed waited in her silence.

She cleared her throat and straightened her posture. "It's how I let off steam."

Reed let out a sharp breath. An almost laugh that made the queen unsure what exactly he meant by it. She had nowhere to look but up to his face, his wide frame blocked her view of the door fully and his height had her craning her neck.

"What?" she snapped when all he did was grin.

"What would a queen need to let off steam about?" His voice lowered to a soft whisper. Reed remained where he was, but somehow, he felt closer as he stood there holding his knuckles.

Only then, when the queen glared up at him, did he let his attention wander. He studied her in a way she wasn't often studied by men. It was like he was memorizing the shape of her face, the softness of her features, or counting the hairs on her head. It was a long look that acted as though it might somehow provide him with her unspoken answers.

Only when he'd gotten his answers from her expression did his eyes finally drift down to her body. That was a quick glance, the flick of a gaze that needed to see her body language before she was falling back into the pool of his silver eyes.

Her pulse quickened. Her palms felt sweaty against the stone ledge. What did he see when he looked at her? The queen? The girl she used to be? Something in-between? Something greater or smaller? Stronger or weaker? Farah wanted to ask but instead slipped off the ledge.

Standing, there was little room between them. If they both took a large enough breath their chests would brush. She wasn't sure if she wanted that or hated the very idea.

"My job is more stressful than it must appear," she said.

"You rule with fear. Does the act take its toll on you?" Reed's face lowered, his hands digging into his pockets. Farah could smell alcohol on his breath mingling with the scent of meat. She wondered if that's what he would taste like too. His plump lips, parted on his last breath, were inviting.

He was mocking her again. A disrespect she wouldn't allow.

Farah stood as tall as she could make herself, letting every ounce of strength she had fuel her movements as she stepped into his personal space until he was leaning away from her. Even then she couldn't,wouldn't, stop.

One moment she was standing before him and in the next, she'd grabbed his thick arms turning them toward the side wall and pinning him against the brick. His muscles were thick, tense, and tight under her grip. The queen could only guess at what strength he had. Too much for his own good.

And she wanted it. All of it.

"And are you fearful of me?" Her voice dripped with venom.

His smile had disappeared, his face schooled into neutrality. "No."

Whatever tether she had on her temper was broken by this singular word. She was no longer under her own control as anger overtook her and she gave herself over to the corruptionof her soul.