Chapter 9 Ciar
CHAPTER NINE
CIAR
I’m sitting at our table in the dining hall, the one in the back corner that gives us a view of the entire room, when she walks in. Axl is across from me, picking at a steak like a fucking surgeon dissecting a corpse. He doesn’t notice her at first. But I do. I’ve been waiting for her.
The bloody letters on my arm throb slightly. A reminder of my claim.
She grabs a tray, piling it high with food like she’s starving, and finds an empty table as far away from everyone as she can get. She doesn’t look our way. She’s trying to pretend we don’t exist. Trying to pretend she’s in control.
“Look at her,” Axl murmurs, finally looking up. “Our little queen is holding court all by herself.”
I push my chair back, the legs scraping against the stone floor, but the usual dining hall noise swallows it.
She’s not just a queen. She’s territory. It’s time she learned the full extent of her new kingdom’s borders. I stride towards her, the other students parting like the Red Sea in front of me.
Her head snaps up as my shadow falls over her, those ice-blue eyes narrowing into slits. The fork halfway to her mouth freezes. She doesn’t look scared. She looks pissed. Good. Fear is boring. Fury is a challenge.
I slide onto the chair opposite her, close enough that my knee brushes her thigh. She flinches, a tiny, satisfying jolt of electricity that I feel all the way up my spine. “I heard O’Shea made you an offer.”
“And?”
“Are you going to take her up on it?”
“What’s it to you?”
“You are not her pet, Sorcha. You’re mine.”
Her gaze flashes dangerously. “I am nobody’s fucking pet. I make my own choices.”
I laugh, a low sound that draws a few curious glances from nearby tables. “Cute. You think you have choices.” My hand snakes out, closing over her wrist, my thumb pressing down on the frantic pulse there. “You made your one and only choice when you decided to fight.”
My gaze drops to the bloody letters on my arm, a crusting brand of ownership, then back to her face. “You fight for O’Shea, you fight against us.”
She grips her fork and brings it down in a flash on my arm, stabbing me with the fucking cutlery.
I should be shocked, but all it does is turn me on.
“This has fuck all to do with you,” she hisses.
“So mind your fucking business.” She yanks the fork out of my flesh, enjoying the sight of the blood welling up.
I watch the blood bead on my skin, mingling with the older, dried blood of her name.
She’s fucking perfect. She’s all fire and sharp edges.
“You’ve got a taste for my blood, have you, girl?” I murmur, my voice a low rumble. I take the fork from her unresisting fingers.
Her jaw is clenched, her body a rigid line of defiance. She expects me to retaliate, to hit her, to make a scene. But that’s too simple. Too crude.
Instead, I lift the fork, bringing it to my mouth, and lick the blood from one of the tines. My eyes never leave hers. Her breath hitches, a tiny, involuntary sound. The taste is metallic, coppery, a taste of her defiance. I savour it.
“Let me be clear,” I say, placing the fork down on her tray with deliberate quiet. “You are an asset of the Cerberus Order now. Your fights, your winnings, your body… it all belongs to us. You answer to me, not to some O’Shea bitch looking to line her pockets with your blood.”
I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that only she can hear.
“So you will tell Annastasia the deal is off, and then you will come and find me. Because you and I have things to discuss. Things you’ll enjoy.
” I run my thumb over the back of the hand she stabbed me with, a soft caress that is nothing but a threat.
She can’t escape this. She can’t escape me.
“Fuck you. I do what I want.”
“Not anymore,” I murmur. “You will learn your place here, one way or another.”
“Don’t threaten me, arsehole.”
“It’s not a threat. You have walked into a hornet’s nest thinking you’re the queen bee, Sorcha. The Gannon name will only get you so far.”
“I will earn my place here. Winning the Gauntlet yesterday was step one. Dethroning you and your two sidekicks will be a spectacular show you won’t want to miss.” She gives me a sultry smile.
“Sidekicks?” I snort. “Ooh, Axl won’t like that.” I’m so thoroughly amused by this woman, I don’t want to leave her. I want to sit here and have her throw insults around all day. I guess I’m just as big a masochist as Axl.
Her smile falters for a second as Axl’s voice, smooth and laced with menace, slides over my shoulder. “Sidekick?”
He pulls up a chair, placing it at the head of the table, boxing her in.
He leans forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers, his green eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement.
“Tell me, Miss Gannon, in this little fantasy of yours, which one of us do you imagine you’ll ‘dethrone’ first?
I do hope it’s me. I’ve always wanted to see what a queen’s coronation looks like up close. ”
Sorcha’s gaze flicks between us, picking up her fork again. “I’m not picky. I’ll take on whichever one of you grows a pair first.”
I slam my hand down on the table, making her tray jump. The can of pop topples over, spilling cola everywhere, but everyone ignores it. The dining hall goes silent, and all eyes swivel to our table.
“Enough games, Sorcha. This isn’t a negotiation. You will tell O’Shea the deal is off. You will report to Axl’s townhouse tonight after dark, and you will learn your fucking place.”
I stand, looming over her. Her defiance is still there, burning in her eyes, but it’s mixed with the dawning realisation that this isn’t a fight she can win with fists or a sharp tongue. Not yet.
“Don’t be late,” I add, before turning my back on her.
Axl gives it a few seconds and then follows me out of the dining hall.
“Was that completely necessary?” he asks.
“What?” I growl, pissed off with Sorcha’s mouth. “She needs to learn that running her mouth has consequences.”
“You just hate the fact that she stands up to you.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, I find that I quite like it, actually. But I don’t want anyone else getting fucking ideas.”
Axl chuckles. “Yeah, there we go. What exactly is your plan here if she doesn’t tell O’Shea to get fucked?”
I stop walking and turn to face him. “Then I’ll pay Annastasia a visit myself. Remind her what happens when you try to claim property that belongs to the Order.”
Axl’s lips twitch, his green eyes glinting with sick amusement. “And Sorcha?”
“She gets a front-row seat. She needs a practical demonstration of the food chain around here. She needs to see, with her own two eyes, that her actions have consequences far beyond her own skin. I’ll peel O’Shea apart right in front of her, and she’ll learn that every move she makes against us is a move against anyone stupid enough to stand with her. ”
My gaze drifts back towards the dining hall.
I can’t see her, but I can feel her, a burning ember of defiance that I’m going to either snuff out or stoke into a fucking inferno.
Either way, she’ll be mine. “She’ll fall in line.
Or I’ll burn everyone around her until we’re the only ones left for her to run to. ”