Flame and Thorns

The Master of the Treasury handles all of the money for the Iceheart Dynasty. He's one of the most intelligent people I've met in decades, and while we were all in the Seelie Court for the Atonement Trials, he devised his most brilliant scheme yet. A financial structure that will triple the Icehearts' revenue. Which can only mean one thing.

He has to die.

Thankfully, while Jonah is a mathematical and analytical genius, he's not very observant when it comes to his surroundings. He hums to himself as he strolls down the corridor, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm sneaking up on him from behind.

With the mask of the Red Hand in place, I slide out a knife from inside my disguise and then close the final distance between us in a few quick steps.

And then I slit his throat.

I stay only long enough to make sure that he has truly bled out. Then I jog back to the window I came in through, remove my mask, and fly back to my room.

I don't like leaving Selena alone when she's unconscious like this. But it has been three days already since we returned, and I had to kill my target now. He was on his way to Bane and Jessina to explain the details of his brilliant scheme, and I couldn't let him do that. I had to kill him first. Well, him and two other people with important positions in their clan, so that it wouldn't be so obvious that I was targeting Jonah specifically.

My boots thud against the ice as I land on the balcony.

Opening the balcony door, I flick my gaze over the living room inside. I hate the fact that servants can come and go at any time inside my private quarters. But I also can't do anything about it, because Bane and Jessina have given those orders on purpose. They want to make me feel as if I'm constantly under surveillance. As if someone can just appear anywhere at any time to spy on me and then report my behavior. It's just one more way for them to remind me that they own me.

Once I've checked to make sure that none of the cleaning staff are lurking in my room right now, I stride in through the door and quickly hide the mask and my disguise. Then I head straight for the bathroom.

Slitting throats is very effective, and relatively quiet, but it is unfortunately also pretty messy. Blood is splattered across my hand and part of my wrist. Though I doubt that anyone would find it suspicious that my hands are stained with blood, I still don't want to take any chances. It has been a while since I pretended to be the Red Hand, and I can't make any mistakes. So after stripping out of my clothes, I take a bath to wash off any evidence of my little assassination.

Once I'm done, I was going to head back into my bedroom to put on something more than a pair of pants, but I trail to a halt in the living room. My gaze is drawn towards the other bedroom. To her. As it always is.

Before I can even make a conscious decision, I find myself walking into her room. Dropping down on the dark gray armchair in the corner, I just watch her lie there on the bed.

Pain stabs at my heart.

She still hasn't woken up. Maybe I took too much when I drained her magic in the throne room? But we had an audience, and I couldn't give them any reason to be suspicious. We're going to be scrutinized enough as it is. I had to make them all think that she means nothing to me.

Oh if they only knew what I really feel for this stubborn, brilliant, powerful, and utterly infuriating woman.

A soft groan comes from Selena's throat and she raises her hand from the cover.

My heart jerks in my chest, and I'm halfway up from the armchair before I catch myself. All I want to do is to grab her and hold her and ask her if she's okay. But I don't want to overwhelm her. I need to let her process everything first. So I quietly sink back in the armchair, lean back against the backrest, and just watch her in silence.

Her fingers brush against the iron collar around her neck, and she frowns. I have to grip the armrests hard to stop myself from just yanking that fucking thing off her neck right this very second.

She frowns for a moment, still trying to blink her eyes open.

Then she gasps awake and sits bolt upright.

Panic crackles across her face as she whips her head from side to side, taking in her surroundings. It takes all my willpower to keep a blank mask on my face when she desperately reaches up towards the iron collar again. Pain stabs through my chest again as she futilely tries to find a clasp and then resorts to just trying to yank it off.

Panic and dread and heartbreaking fear pulse across her whole face. It makes me want to burn the world down.

And I decide then and there that I can't just keep sitting here and watching her panic like this. I need to do something to distract her. I need to make her focus on something other than the fact that her life as she knows it ended three days ago. And I know, from personal experience, that there is one emotion that will always help with that.

Hate.

Strong enough hatred trumps panic. It trumps despair. Trumps heartbreak. Hate trumps almost everything. It gives you purpose. Gives you a reason to keep fighting. To keep living. If only to get revenge.

So I need to make her angry. I need to draw out her hatred so that it will snap her out of this panic and hopelessness that she's currently drowning in.

"It won't work," I say, keeping my tone nonchalant and slightly mocking.

She gasps and whips her head towards me. Shock pulses across her face when she notices me. Then her gaze flits across my half-naked body. Fire pulses through my veins as I'm reminded of how she looked at me in that underground forest. And Azaroth's flame, I desperately want her to look at me like that again. But she won't. It was only an act, a ruse, back then in order to steal the ring. And after this, she's only ever going to look at me with hate and rage in her eyes.

So I block out the fire in my veins and instead nod towards her throat. "You won't be able to find a clasp. Only a dragon shifter can take off a collar like that."

As if she refuses to take my word for it, she stubbornly yanks at the collar again. I have to suppress a smile. Always so fucking stubborn, this little rebel.

When the collar doesn't come off, just like I said it wouldn't, she reluctantly drops her hand. But then panic flashes across her beautiful features again, and she snaps her gaze down to the black silk nightgown that she's wearing.

"You changed my clothes," she blurts out.

I cock my head. "Yes."

She grips the sheets hard as if in panic. But then anger at last begins to push out that awful emotion. Relief flickers through me. Good. Hate me.

That rage remains on her face as she narrows her eyes at me instead. "You took my clothes off?"

"You've been asleep for three days." I give her a nonchalant shrug, designed to make her even more furious. "I figured you would be more comfortable in that than a ballgown."

It works, and she shoots me a hard look. "So you took it upon yourself to strip me naked while I was unconscious?"

I let a slow and deliberately vicious smile spread across my mouth as I slide my gaze up and down her body. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Something flickers in her eyes. I suppress a frown of confusion. That comment was supposed to make her even angrier, but it doesn't appear to have worked. So what did it make her feel?

"And besides," I continue before I even know what I'm saying. "Would you rather it had been a random stranger who stripped you down to your underwear and changed your clothes?"

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to slap myself. I wasn't supposed to tell her that. It betrays too much of my real emotions. Because I would fucking slaughter anyone who dared to even look at her half-naked body. She is mine.

To my surprise, she doesn't argue with that. It makes a stupid flicker of hope pulse in my chest. Maybe she doesn't actually hate the thought of me seeing her half-naked. Maybe she doesn't despise me quite as much as she should.

With a scoff, she suddenly slides towards the edge of the bed and shoves the sheets away.

A jolt shoots through me. She hasn't eaten in three days, and she has also had her magic drained from her body for the first time ever. She needs to take it slow. If she tries to stand up too fast, she's going to fall over.

I shoot up from the armchair. "You shouldn't-"

She stands up anyway. And not carefully or slowly. She just shoves to her feet as if she's the very model of health.

Clenching my jaw, I stifle something between a frustrated growl and a laugh. So stubborn. Always so fucking stubborn.

Throwing myself across the room, I manage to catch her before she can hit the floor. With my arms around her slim body, I pull her back up to her feet.

But her cheek is pressed against my bare chest, and I can barely concentrate on anything else, so I think I hold her for too long, because she struggles upright with a huff and gives my chest a hard shove.

"Don't touch me," she snarls.

And fuck, I'm glad she isn't looking at my face when she says that. The words, and the venom in them, feels like a knife twisted through my gut. I know that I'm deliberately trying to make her hate me, but the thought that she is disgusted by my hands on her body, even when it was just to stop her from slamming into the floor, hurts like hell.

"The first draining is always the hardest," I say mechanically, because I need to say something to distract myself and to change the topic while I keep my hands on her shoulders for another few seconds to make sure that she won't fall over again. But even after I release her shoulders, I somehow still can't bring myself to take a step back.

"The first and only draining," she retorts.

That incredible fire is now back in her eyes. Instead of the panic and dread that have been pulsing across her face every few seconds since the moment she woke up, there is now determination and anger and fire in her beautiful turquoise and lavender eyes. And I need to make sure that it's permanent. That her unbreakable spirit and that fight in her remains. Because she's going to need it to survive here.

So I hold her gaze and once more try to feed that rage in her. "Draining you of magic is the entire purpose of a life slave."

That wonderful anger flares up in her eyes. "I am not your slave."

"That collar around your neck says otherwise," I bait her again.

"If you ever drain me again, I will kill you."

And to really push that anger the final distance, I slowly wrap a hand around her throat as I hold her gaze. "You and I both know that if I want to take it, I can."

My pulse thrums as I wait for her reaction. Part of me is worried that I might have pushed it too far with this. That it will do the opposite. That my cruel words will break her. Because we both know that what I said is the truth. But the other part of me reassures me that it won't. Because I know her too well. I know that this won't break her. She's too fierce, too powerful, too much of a survivor for that.

And just as I hoped, she doesn't lower her eyes. Doesn't bow her head in surrender. She does the opposite. She raises her chin defiantly and stares back at me.

I have to suppress a grin.

Then I let my hand drop. "But I won't."

She blinks at me in surprise.

I want her to be angry, I want to give her a purpose, a sense of defiance and revenge that she can use to keep the panic and dread away. But I don't want her to be afraid of me. So I also need her to understand that I won't violate her and drain her magic like that again.

"We had an audience back in the throne room," I tell her while also taking a step back to give her some room to breathe. "Now, we don't."

That shock on her face deepens.

I let out a sigh and then remind her, "I told you that I tried to save you from this, remember?"

Her features soften, and she scrunches up her eyebrows a little. It makes her look so adorable that I have to actively hold myself back from reaching up and smoothing out that crease in her brows with my fingers.

She studies my face as if she's trying to read the answers there. "Why?"

And there it is again. That question. Why did you try to save me from this?

Because I know that you're a member of the fae resistance. Because I am a member of it too. Because I am the Red Hand. Because we're working towards the same goal. Because I've been falling in love with you for years. Because I truly and completely fell for you during the Atonement Trials. Because you're my mate. Because I would slaughter this entire world before I ever let someone hurt you.

But I can't tell her any of that.

Because if I tell her that I'm also trying to overthrow the Icehearts, she's going to want to help. And that might have worked in the Seelie Court. But here? Where the Icehearts have spies on every corner? No. If they catch her, they will torture her until her body breaks and her mind shatters in a way that is completely irreparable. And they will use the dragon steel to force me to just stand there and watch it all. They need me to keep the rest of the clans in check, which is why I can risk my own life like this. But Selena and my clan and everyone else? In the Icehearts' minds, they are expendable. I can't subject them to that kind of danger.

And I can't tell her that she's my mate either. I just put a collar around her neck and made her a slave. The last thing she wants is to hear that she's my mate.

So in the end, all I say is, "Does it matter?"

She opens her mouth, but then hesitates.

My heart slams against my ribs as I wait for her reply.

Then steel creeps into her eyes, and she scoffs. "No, I guess it doesn't."

Relief washes over me at the sight of that steel in her eyes, but I keep my smile cold and threatening.

She draws a hand over the collar. "I will kill you for this." 

God, she really is back. That fire. That fierceness. This is the true Selena. This is my little rebel. I have to suppress a grin of approval since it would only ruin the anger and determination that I've finally managed to draw out.

Instead, I decide to finish this off by giving her cheek a patronizing pat. "That's the spirit."

She slaps my hand away, but before she can retort, her stomach growls. Loudly.

A jolt shoots through me.

Fucking hell, what was I thinking? She needs to eat, for God's sake. She must be starving. And here I am, trying to bait her. Azaroth's flame, I need to let her recover first.

"You haven't eaten anything in three days," I say, rather superfluously, and then lurch into motion. "I'll get you some food."

She blinks at me, looking startled, and all she says is, "I, uhm... "

I nod towards a pale wooden dresser by the wall. "Your clothes are in there. Stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Fucking hell, I can't believe that I didn't think to bring her food earlier. I should have had a stash of food already waiting in my room. I need to fix that.

After putting on a shirt and my boots, I hurry out the door and then continue into the deserted corridor beyond. As I walk, my mind churns.

This is going to be tricky. Once I have given her something to eat, I'm going to have to explain to her how this is all going to work. And that will be very complicated. Because I need to make sure that she's still angry enough to keep her from losing hope. But I also need to make her trust me enough to agree to my plan. I need her to understand that even though I take off her collar inside our rooms, when we're in public, she still needs to act as if I have-

I stop dead in the stairwell halfway to the kitchens.

The collar.

Oh fucking hell, I haven't even taken off her collar yet.

Whirling around, I run back up the steps and through the corridors and back towards our rooms. And as I close the final distance to the door, I'm struck by another thought.

The door. Did I lock the door before I left?

Reaching out, I tentatively push the handle down.

It opens without resistance.

Briefly closing my eyes, I groan and curse silently in my head.

What is it about Selena that just makes me lose my entire head? Just being near her makes me forget the simplest things. The most important things. Everything about her is distracting. Her intelligence. Her sharp tongue. Her quick wit. Her beautiful face and her gorgeous body. I can barely think straight when she's around. Especially after the mate bond snapped in place.

Shoving the handle down, I stride into the living room with my heart slamming against my ribs.

One look confirms what I dreaded.

All the rooms are empty.

Alarm and panic, and a very annoying sense of approval, pulse through me.

Ten minutes. She has been awake for ten minutes, and she's already causing trouble.

A grudging smile threatens to spread across my lips.

This little rebel is going to be the fucking death of me.

I slide my gaze to Orion. Nightbane. Goddess damn it, I meant Nightbane. Why have I started referring to him by his first name? We're not close. In any way. His name is Nightbane. Or pretty boy, if I want to rile him up.

"You have no idea where we are, do you?" I declare, keeping a mocking edge to my voice.

Nightbane cuts me a look. "Of course I do. This is the fastest way to Ember Hill."

"Didn't Selena say that the fastest way to Nysara's house was that way?" I nod towards the right.

"You think I don't know where my own spy lives?"

"I think you've never left the Unseelie Court."

His expression darkens, but to my surprise, he doesn't snap back at me. Which leads me to believe that there might actually be some truth to my taunt.

Warm summer winds whirl down the street, making the cloak flutter behind me. I adjust the hood so that it fully covers my ears and obscures my eyes while once more wishing that Selena had come with us so that she could lower people's suspicion. Wearing cloaks in the middle of summer is incredibly conspicuous, but it's better than leaving our pointed ears and two-colored eyes on full display. Not to mention Orion's ridiculous crown, which he refuses to take off.

I cast another glance at the Unseelie King from the corner of my eye. His brow is slightly furrowed as he scans the deserted street before us. He has no idea where we are. I'm sure of it. But unfortunately, neither do I. Selena was the only one of us fae who actually went out into the city of Frostfell when we were prisoners here. I only ever saw the city from the air the night that we escaped, so I don't know where we are either.

When we meet up with the others afterwards, I'm going to get our three dragon shifters to draw me a detailed map of the city. Because once our plan is set into motion, there is no room for error. Especially not for errors as stupid as getting lost because Orion Nightbane is too proud to ask for directions.

Another intersection appears at the end of the road. The creases in Orion's dark eyebrows smoothen, and relief flits across his face.

"This is it," he says. "If we take a right here, it will-"

I suck in a sharp breath between my teeth as he suddenly cuts himself off and yanks me with him into the narrow gap between two of the houses. The space is so tight that the two of us can barely fit. A huff escapes my lips as he pushes me up against the wall while squeezing his own body in as well.

He presses his hand over my mouth. As if I would be stupid enough to say something right now. He obviously spotted some kind of threat. Otherwise, he wouldn't have pulled us in here to hide.

My skin tingles where his hand touches me. I desperately want to reach up and shove his hand away from my mouth, but because we are pressed so tightly together, I can't move my arms up without it causing a lot of unnecessary noise and movement that might draw attention. So instead, I settle for a sharp glare.

Amusement tugs at Orion's lips when he notices my glare, but the smug bastard thankfully slides his hand down from my mouth at least. However, because he can't move his arm too much without drawing attention either, he rests his hand around my throat instead. And that somehow feels even more intimate.

My heart starts beating hard. And because our chests are crushed together like this, I'm suddenly worried that he can feel it.

His black and silver eyes glitter in the shadows of his hood as he holds my gaze. I can feel every inch of his lean muscular body pressed against mine. Can feel his chest expand slightly with every breath he takes. And his unnaturally beautiful face is so close to mine that every one of those soft breaths caresses my skin. I can even smell the scented soap he uses to wash his long silken hair. His fingers flex slightly around my throat.

Fire flickers through my veins as I'm suddenly acutely reminded of that night in the cave when he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly as we slept. When I woke up with my own arms around him as well and my cheek pressed against his firm chest. I have never felt like that before. That was-

"Why couldn't the new guy do this?" a voice suddenly grumbles from the road we just left.

"You are the new guy," another male voice replies.

"No, I'm not."

"You started just three months ago."

"In your squad, yes. But I've been a soldier for twelve years!"

"Doesn't matter. The new guy's the new guy."

Tearing my gaze from Orion, I shift it to the street on my right. A pair of dragon shifters in silver armor are walking down the road at a determined pace. Neither of them looks in our direction.

"If I'd known that moving to a different section would reset my status, I would never have requested a transfer," the first guy mutters.

Their voices fade as they continue down the street. I shift my gaze back to Orion while we wait for them to move out of sight.

The moment they're gone, I yank my arm up and shove his hand away from my throat. But I can still feel it there, like a burning handprint on my skin.

Mabona's tits, I need to put some distance between us before I stab him.

Squeezing past him, I shove away from the wall and stalk out onto the street again. My heart is pounding against my ribs. How can he possibly affect me like this? I don't even like him.

"You're welcome," he drawls as he saunters out into the street as well.

"For what?" I snap back at him as sudden frustration thrums in my veins. "Rumpling my clothes?"

"Leather doesn't get rumpled. My clothes, however... " He brushes his hands down his fancy shirt to smoothen out the nonexistent wrinkles. "Are much more refined."

"I think you mean delicate."

He narrows his eyes at me and looks to be about to retort, but then he cocks his head and slides his gaze up and down my body instead. "You should probably take your clothes off, though."

A jolt shoots through me. "What?"

"Did that remind you of the cave, little viper?" His smile is positively villainous. "I thought it might."

With a low growl, I simply turn around and start stalking up the street.

To my great annoyance, he doesn't even need to jog to catch up. Since he is taller than me, his longer strides eat up the distance between us until he is strolling along next to me.

A sly smile curves his lips as he looks at me from the corner of his eye. "While I wouldn't mind feeling your cute little cuddles again-"

"I was not cuddling you."

"-I was actually suggesting that you remove your clothes for a reason," he simply continues as if I hadn't interrupted. "And perhaps I should have used the phrase change your clothes instead." His eyes glint. "My mistake."

"If you have a point, you'd better get to it soon."

"My point is that when Nysara casts a glamour, it requires more magic the more things she needs to change. So if you were wearing a dress instead of fighting leathers, it would cost her less magic to glamour you as Jessina, who only wears silver dresses."

I slide my gaze to him. It's hard to tell with this sly bastard sometimes, but he sounds entirely serious.

"I don't own any dresses," I reply.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have rejected the one I gifted you."

A flicker of embarrassment pulses through me at the reminder. I know that I overreacted back then. That it was incredibly immature of me to throw the dress back in his face like that. In all my life, I would never even have considered doing something like that. But for some reason, Orion just gets under my skin in a way that no one else ever has.

"But fret not," he continues, a knowing smile on his stupid mouth. "We can always just steal a dress from someone's house. Like that one." He nods towards a white stone house with a yellow-painted front door. "They look rich enough."

"We don't have time." I shoot him a hard look. "We need to talk to Nysara, explain the plan, and make sure that she can actually glamour us to look like the Icehearts."

"She can."

"And then we need to head back to the meeting point," I continue, ignoring him, "so that Selena can tell us where Lavendera will be. Then we need to go back to Nysara so that she can actually begin glamouring us. We don't have time to stop and steal a dress."

"There is always time for shopping."

"I-"

But before I can protest further, Orion has already walked up to the house and rammed his elbow through the glass window. It shatters with a highly conspicuous crack, and shards rain down to clink against the stone ground underneath.

I whip my head from side to side, checking if anyone heard it. But the street is thankfully empty.

Reaching in through the now broken window, Orion unlocks the front door from the inside and then pulls it open. With a flourish, he motions for me to step inside. "After you."

I give him a look of utter disbelief, which he promptly ignores. With an annoyed sigh, I shake my head at him and then stride in through the door. Glass clinks behind me as Orion pushes a few shards out of the way before following me inside and then shutting the door behind us.

Say what you will about the Unseelie King, but he is incredibly perceptive. Based on the furniture in this house, the people who live here are indeed very wealthy.

Orion starts up the stairs without another word, as if he can guess exactly where the master bedroom will be. I narrow my eyes at his back. He is far too full of himself, always expecting that people will follow him and obey his every command, so part of me wants to refuse just out of spite. But I was the one who pointed out that we really don't have time right now, so in the end, I do follow him up the stairs.

"Ah, this one is perfect," Orion's voice comes from a room on my left when I reach the top of the stairs.

With an annoyed scowl on my face, I walk into that room to find the Unseelie King holding out a beautiful dress in a dark red color.

Without warning, he tosses it at me. "Put it on."

I catch it, and my fingers tighten in the smooth fabric as I clench my jaw. "What did I tell you about trying to give me orders?"

"I was just trying to be efficient. You're the one who said that we don't have time."

I grind my teeth.

He flashes me a wicked grin.

Drawing in a long breath through my nose, I try to smother the urge to strangle him. Then I shake out the dress in my hands and inspect it. It looks like it will fit well enough.

Across the room, Orion crosses his arms and nonchalantly leans back against the wall. His eyes remain on me.

I drag my gaze to his and arch an eyebrow. "Are you just going to stand there?"

A smirk tugs at his lips. "Would you like my assistance with something?"

"I would like you to leave."

"Oh, come now, little viper. I've already seen you naked, remember?"

"Half-naked."

"Close enough."

"No."

Reaching for his cloak, he starts to unclasp it. "I could take my clothes off too, if that would help?"

Fire pulses through my veins as the memory of his half-naked body pressed against mine in a dark cave suddenly flashes before my eyes again.

With a snarl, I whirl around and stalk out of the room while trying my best not to crush the delicate dress in my tight fist. Orion's satisfied chuckle drifts through the air behind me.

I walk into the next room and immediately start stripping out of my fighting leathers. But the moment I put the dress on, I already know that I won't be able to do this.

The thin fabric is soft and smooth against my skin, and the skirt of the dress swishes around my legs when I move. It's a beautiful dress, but it also makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. We don't know if this insane plan of ours is going to work, and if it doesn't, I would rather be in fighting leathers than a gown when facing attackers.

Shaking my head, I quickly strip out of the dress again and toss it down on the desk to my right. Then I reach for my normal clothes.

"Too fancy?"

My heart jerks at the sound of Orion's voice, and I whip around to find him leaning his shoulder casually against the door frame. His eyes gleam as his gaze slips down my half-naked body for a second before returning to my face.

Heat washes through me and my heart does a double beat to catch up to its normal rhythm.

"Planning to shoot those at me?" Orion continues, amusement lacing his voice, as he nods down towards my hands.

I flick a glance down as well and, to my surprise, find ice shards floating there in the air. I didn't even realize that I had summoned my magic. Keeping the ice like that, I fix Orion with a hard stare.

"I thought I told you to leave," I grind out.

"You did."

"And now I find you watching me like a little stalker."

"If you didn't want me to see you, why didn't you close the door?"

My gaze darts to the door that I left wide open while I tried on the dress. Desperately, I try to think of a cutting reply. But I can't. Because deep down, I kind of like the way he looks at me. No one has ever looked at me the way Orion does.

It pisses me off, because I don't have time to focus on something as trivial as this. Not when I still need to get revenge for what Bane did to my mother. Getting my revenge is all that matters.

It also terrifies me. Because I should be above all this. Selena and Draven, and even Alistair and Lyra, spend so much time worrying about their relationships with other people. But I don't care about that. I shouldn't care about that. So it terrifies me that Orion is having this kind of effect on me.

Tension crackles through the air as Orion and I stare each other down from across the smooth stone floor. My skin prickles underneath his intense gaze. I draw in a short breath as I release the grip on my magic and let the ice shards disappear. Orion slides a glance down at the now empty air before meeting my gaze again. His eyes burn like dark flames.

Goddess damn it, if he keeps looking at me like that, we are definitely going to be late for the meeting with Selena and the others.

For a moment, one single moment, I consider it.

Then I abruptly snatch up my shirt and start getting dressed.

Orion's posture changes. It slight, almost imperceptible, but it's there. Like the tension loosening slightly on a tightly wound string.

Drawing in a deep breath, he straightens from the door frame and casts me a lazy glance as he begins to turn around. "I'll be downstairs."

I jerk my chin down in a nod and continue putting my fighting leathers back on while a strange flicker of disappointment ripples through me. Why am I disappointed? There is no possible reason for me to be disappointed.

After all, I don't care about Orion Nightbane.

All I care about is revenge.