28. L（over） #2
“I know your game,” I said, pointing at his face, and he froze mid-step. “I’ve known all along who you were. Calling me brat was a nice touch, but your deception was doomed from the start . . . No one else in Antichthon has ever called me a filthy serf.” I mimicked his voice.
His face hardened, hands clenching into fists. “Thou don’t know anything, Ravenal,” he said slowly. The diamonds on his shock collar caught the light. “Thou never did.”
“Sazha is a nickname for Aleksander,” I said. “Isn’t it?”
He smiled and resumed walking toward me.
I shook my head, covering my mouth as I tried not to be sick. “I would recognize your sadistic eyes anywhere, Aleksander . . . You bit my throat as a child, and it was always your wind choking me.”
Maroon lips pulled up. He shivered as if experiencing a sudden bout of excitement.
“I could smell it on you,” I whispered, articulating the secret I’d only ever shared with one person—the Marshal. “I could always sense your nefarious desires . . . I can smell your wicked intentions.”
The man who’d been calling himself Tarantula for years came to a stop in front of me. Wrath and magic seeped from his pores. His expression turned wicked, his tattered chiffon shirt hanging open, nearly ripped away from the earlier fight. The ridges of his skin gleamed.
“My eyes are up here, Ravenal,” he purred. “And what thou smell is attraction for me.”
I scoffed. “No, I smell death . . . There’s nothing impressive about—”
“Thou sense my strength.” He dragged his graceful fingers down his stomach until his thumb rested suggestively on the waistband of his blood-streaked pants. “And thou thought differently when thou were screaming my name . . . and gushing onto my tongue.”
I struggled to swallow around the dry lump in my throat. “It meant nothing to me,” I said, voice cracking.
His thumb traced the ridges of his lower abdomen, drifting over the glittering butterfly. His lips twitched, expression cruel as he oozed malevolence. Seductive evil.
“So thou art saying thou let your tyrannical archnemesis eat your cunt . . . That is what thou art admitting right now, Ravenal?” He dropped the subterfuge. “Thou filthy little—”
“Aleksander,” I cut him off. “You forget that, unlike you, I’m not repressed.” I blew a mocking kiss, heart pounding, lungs seizing. “Many men have feasted happily on my—”
“Silence yourself!” Cobalt veins stood out across his neck and jaw in stark relief.
“It wasn’t even good,” I taunted. “Not memorable at all. I’ve already forgotten about it.”
Silver steamed around him. He slowly smiled, an awful, wicked expression. He inhaled deeply. “Liar . . . Thou forget, I can smell it too. Thou yearn for me.”
“What you smell is that I yearn for your violent demise.” I inched away, hating how my hands were shaking, knees weak.
“Thou yearn for me to make thee mine. I will cherish thee forever . . . Rule by my side.” He held out his hand for me to take, his smile charming.
Memories flashed rapid-fire.
He stood between my legs. The image changed. He lay beneath me, groaning as he ate me out. I shook my head. He rested his chin on my hip bone, licking his lips. No. He peppered gentle kisses across my forehead, whispering hoarsely.
“No,” I said, taking another step back.
He sauntered closer, hand still reaching for me.
“Thou will come with me. Stop pretending.”
“I’m not.” I shook my head, desperation growing as I pointed at his masked face. “I always saw through your royal scheme. You’ve never had the upper hand—and I will never go willingly with evil.”
He slowly dropped his hand, eyes darkening as he saw something on my face that made him stiffen. He rolled his neck, veins protruding from his jaw and forehead like he was struggling for control.
“It all meant nothing to me,” I said louder.
“Thou art a terrible liar.” He stopped a hand’s length away, close enough to kiss. His bottom lip gleamed as he wet it. “Such stubborn insolence . . . refusing to admit that thou art just as desperately obsessed as I am. We are ruined for each other.”
“You mean nothing to me!” I screamed with all my might, like it would make it true, as I backed away.
He shouted back, “Thou mean everything to me!”
“Leave me alone.”
He shook his head, eyes glittering with emotion. “Never.”
“Then take off the mask. What do you have left to hide?”
He scoffed. “Why would I listen to thee—”
I pointed my glowing hand at him in fury. The silver-streaked sea roared high as it crashed against the side of the ship, rocking it. Foam sprayed across the deck. More waves rose, each one higher than the last.
He froze, staring out at the ocean and then back at my glowing hand with confusion.
“Do it!” I waved my fingers, and the sea spray exploded high in the air around him. “Stop hiding, you lying coward!”
The ship rocked, dragons roared on the horizon, and Squire screeched into my braid.
In slow motion, Aleksander lifted his slender fingers up to his face and pulled off his mask. Magic sizzled as it detached, and he pocketed the platinum.
I’d known the truth, but it still shocked me. The same realization, the one I’d had when I’d removed his mask after he’d kidnapped Mom, settled into my bones. I was never paranoid. He was just a megalomaniac royal who played a twisted game, and he thought I was too dumb and poor to know the rules.
He studied me with his hauntingly familiar features. Since I was fifteen years old, I’d seen him in every one of my dreams and nightmares.
The jagged face of a cruel boy had filled into the sharp angles of a ferociously attractive man. Puberty had been far too kind to Aleksander. He was stunning. Tall and lean with whipcord strength, he was vastly different from the scrawny boy I’d first met.
Disturbingly gorgeous.
Aleksander the Sadistic smiled at me across the deck, wind tousling his curls, and the effect was devastating.
“Lying spider!” Squire squawked with outrage (helpful).
The golden shade of Aleksander’s eyebrows matched the undertones in his curls, complementing his features. The real Tarantula had no dimension in his white-blond hair. Small details matter.
There was no question—no one in all Antichthon had eyes like the man before me. It wasn’t the unique color—the cloudlike white, shimmering with a rainbow, surrounded by the faintest ring of icy blue. It was the cunning in their depths.
Chills trailed down my spine as I held his burning gaze. He’d been sculpted by the enemy of the old god to seduce and destroy unsuspecting mortals.
He waited.
“You dyed your hair and eyebrows as a child,” I said, remembering I’d thought it strange how light his lashes were all those years ago.
A common practice among elites to remain undetected.
“You mutilated your neck to hide my dagger mark . . . You had your Mage brand himself with a recognizable tattoo long before you even met me—the perfect neat little plot. An easy way for an Emperor to conceal his identity and fool the world. And now the real Tarantula’s hair is dyed black and he’s masquerading as you. Your subterfuge never ends.”
Aleksander’s smile widened. His expression was different than it had been on that snow-covered bridge. Now his mania had a heated, raw edge. Blatant desire.
“Ah, my sweet Ravenal,” he said softly, pride in his voice. “Too brilliant for your own good. If only thou had played dumb like the rest of them.” He flashed perfect white teeth. “It might have been easier for thee.”
He hooked both of his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, drawing attention to his Adonis belt. He knew exactly what he was doing because every single one of his actions had a purpose. Every move a constant game. Never has a man been so cruelly calculating.
“It was never going to be easy for me,” I said, trying not to look at his exposed chest. “I met you.”
“I think,” he said, “it was I who met thee . . . not the other way around.”
I widened my defensive stance. “Now that we’re done with the games . . . where is my mom? Bring her to me. Now.”
His eyes glittered. “Thou shall come with me back to Palladium, my glorious castle. I shall give thee a tour of the finery, and then we shall discuss the details of the trade.”
“No, we won’t be doing that.”
He arched a perfect golden eyebrow. “Thou have no power here over me . . . ’Tis not the bedroom, Ravenal.” He bit down on his lip like he was remembering.
Heat flushed across my cheeks as I struggled to stay focused. I raised my hands high, the glow intensifying. “Are you sure about that?”