Page 39 of Empress of Ruin
She stares at me with big, vulnerable eyes. A strange feeling, something akin to protectiveness swirls through my chest, so intense I brush a hand over it.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
I smile. It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than me. “Sure,” I say amiably. “And I’m the pope.” I kiss her nose, return to my desk, and spend the next several hours glancing at her every few seconds, reminding myself that she’s here, she’s safe, she’s mine, and I amneverletting her get away from me again.
The evening of the dinner party I’ve been dreading comes around far too swiftly. I watch Lyra wince her way through getting dressed—she was particularly bratty this morning, so I spanked her until shethoroughlyapologized, then put her on her knees and fucked her throat.
I retreat into the closet, select the blue velvet box where I put her engagement ring, and a few other boxes with appropriate jewelry. I find my little bird in the bathroom, fussing over her hair and frowning at her expression. A stylist came in earlier to do her makeup and hair; she looks stunning and so very sophisticated with curled, half-up hair, and dark, smoky eyes that really bring out the blue and grey of her irises.
“You look beautiful.” I set the boxes down on the counter next to her, move behind her, and start pulling jewelry out of themand draping it over her. A diamond necklace to match her dress; pearl earrings; and, of course, her ring. She stays still up until I pick up her hand to slide the ring on, at which point she flinches.
“I don’t want to wear that.”
“I don’t recall asking.” I press my body against hers deliberately, knowing that her bruised ass will sing with protest. “You will put on my ring and act the part of the doting fiancée tonight. Fight me all you want behind closed doors, Little Bird, but in public, you will conduct yourself appropriately.”
Her jaw clenches. She glares at me through the mirror, throat working with a swallow. I stare back at her, completely unmoved.
She looks away first, eyes lowering, even as she practically vibrates with indignance. That’s fine; I’ll fuck the attitude out of her later.
“There are a lot of powerful people in attendance tonight,” I say carefully, pushing her ring into place and turning her hand a bit so I can see it sparkle. “Recognizable powerful people. Now, since I know an investigative journalist still lives deep inside you, I hope you’ll heed my warning. Do not—I repeat,do not—go poking places you shouldn’t, or asking excessive questions.”
“You want me to play the part of a society wife and breeding stock,” she hisses. “I fucking got it.”
“Good.” I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck. “There’s a lot more on the line than you might consider.”
“If you actually took time toexplainthat to me, I might—”
“No. There are things you don’t need to know; things that I do and will continue protecting you from. That’s the only thing that matters.”
“Keeping me in the dark won’t do either of us any favors,” she says harshly.
“I’ll take care of the threats. You don’t need to worry about them.”
“Have you paused to consider that maybe I couldhelpyou do that if you communicated with me—”
I cut her off with a laugh. I’m under no illusions that Lyra would sooner see me burn than help me with anything.
“Come on.” I take her hand, tucking it into the crook of my arm. “We don’t want to be late.”
Dinner parties with members of The Eyes are a fairly rare occurrence; they happen annually, sometimes every other year. I think it’s the organization’s form of team-bonding, but really, it also serves as a warning. Everyone in this room is off-limits. Wives, children, any person in attendance. If any member of The Eyes goes after another member, it’s an automatic death sentence.
By bringing Lyra with me with my ring sparkling on her finger, I’m making it clear that Silas’s actions against her were a violation of our code—and I should be allowed to kill him. The fact that she disappeared does me no favors, but as no one can disprove my cover story, my desire to see Silas dead can’t be dismissed out of hand.
Rather than a formal sit-down dinner, hors d’oeuvres are distributed among the mingling crowd by finely-dressed waiters and waitresses. Vladimir sits with his wife at one of the sofas placed around the edges of the room. While they both occupy the same space, there’s a cushion separating them, and they don’t speak.
Herald is the first to greet me and Lyra as we walk in, his wife on his arm and their daughter and son also accompanying them. He smiles at me with some hints of warmth, but mostly,warning. “Killian,” he says. “So good to see you again. And I’m justdelightedthat you brought your lovely fiancée with you.” He peers at Lyra, equal parts curiosity and suspicion in his gaze.
“Lyra, this is Griffin,” I introduce, using his civilian name—not his Eyes honorific. It tastes odd on my tongue. “We’re old friends.”Loose allies at best, though he’s recently proven useful.
To Lyra’s credit, she smiles warmly and shakes his hand. “So wonderful to meet you.”
“And you,” Griffin agrees, returning her smile. “Killian’s done an admirable job, hiding you away from the world thus far. It’s nice to see that he’s finally showing you off.”
Lyra tenses slightly at his words, but manages to maintain her smile.Good girl. If she keeps up with this behavior, she’s in for a reward tonight.
We exchange idle small talk for a bit. After a while, Griffin floats away, only to soon be replaced with the verylastperson I have any desire to see or speak with.
Silas Black.
