Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
"When did my Roar become suicidal?" I placed my hands on his throat.
I felt his pulse jump beneath my palm.
There.
Finally.
A crack in that composure. A flutter of something that might have been fear.
I squeezed.
Not enough to cut off air.
Just enough to remind him who he was talking to.
"She was shaking." I loosened up the grip and leaned in close. My lips were near his ear. "She looked at me like I was a monster. She told me not to touch her."
Reo's throat worked against my grip. "Maybe she needed to."
I squeezed harder, hoping to choke that fucking defiance out of him.
His face started to redden. His hands came up and gripped my wrist.
Not pulling.
Not fighting.
Just holding on.
His eyes started to flutter. The red in his face was deepening toward purple. Some part of me—some cold, ancient part—wanted to see how far I could go.
Wanted to feel him stop struggling.
Yet, I let up on the pressure.
His legs shifted—not fighting, just trying to stay upright. I could feel the tendons in his neck straining against my palm. A vein pulsed against my thumb, rapid and desperate.
I backed off from choking him.
"She. . .needed to. . .see." He gasped for breath.
I growled. “Why would she need to see?”
"If she can't handle the fire, better to know now. Before we get deeper into this war. Before everything depends on her standing beside you."
“It’s already too late. She’s deep inside of me.”
For the first time, Reo’s bottom lip quivered.
I considered choking him again. "She's not a soldier to be tested."
"No." His voice was strained now, air harder to come by. "She's a queen."
My grip faltered.
"And queens don't get to be sheltered." He pushed the words out through my loosened chokehold. "They have to know what their kingdom is built on. And yours is built on blood, bone, and ash."
I wanted to crush his windpipe.
Wanted to watch the light leave his eyes for what he'd done, for the way Nyomi had looked at me this morning, for the fracture I'd felt form between us.
But beneath the rage, a colder question surfaced.
What if he's right?
I shoved it down.
Refused to let it breathe.
"You had no right," I said through gritted teeth.
"Respectfully—" He coughed, fighting for more air. "I think I did."
I released his throat and hit him again.
He staggered sideways, catching himself on the wall, and I followed. My fist connected with his ribs.
He grunted.
Pain flared across my knuckles. I'd split the skin—my blood mixing with his now.
I didn't care.
I hit him again.
Same spot.
This time he doubled over with a sound that was barely human—wet, broken, like something inside him had finally given way.
The hallway rang with the echo of it.
Then nothing.
Just his wet, ragged breathing and the distant smell of smoke still drifting from the pyre outside.
Still he didn't fight back.
Still he didn't run.
Satoshi spoke carefully. His military training was probably the only thing keeping his voice steady. "Kenji. . .the Lion is waiting."
I looked at him.
Satoshi’s face was pale beneath that rigid composure. I could see his pulse jumping in his throat—this man who'd been dishonorably discharged for something involving five bodies and zero witnesses, now looking like he might be sick.
I scowled at Satoshi. "Let the Lion fucking wait. This is important."
I returned my attention to my Roar, grabbed Reo by the hair, and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at me.
Blood smeared his chin.
His lip was swelling.
One eye was starting to bruise. But those eyes—those goddamn eyes—still held that infuriating certainty.
"If you're truly that angry with me," Reo said quietly, "if you believe I've betrayed you—then let me go. I'll walk downstairs right now, leave this mansion, and throw myself into that pyre."
The words hung in the air.
Behind me, I heard someone shift their weight.
Kaoru, maybe.
Or Rin.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The air in the hallway had turned thick with the kind of fear that made men forget how to breathe.
My grip tightened in his hair. "You think I won't?"
"I think you'll do whatever you believe is right." Reo didn't look away. "I've served you. I've killed for you. Bled for you. I've done things that guaranteed my place in hell long before today. If this is where it ends—if my last act of service is showing your queen the truth of what she's chosen—then I'll burn grateful."
The hallway went deathly silent.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
I could feel my Fangs watching, could feel their terror radiating off them in waves. They'd seen me kill for less. They'd watched me execute men who'd merely disappointed me.
And here was Reo, bloody and beaten, openly admitting he'd defied me. Daring me to send him to the flames.
My hand trembled in his hair.
Not from rage.
From something worse.
He means it. He would do it. Walk straight into the fire if I commanded it.
The realization cracked something open in my chest.