I didn’t enjoy being the focus of the table, or that they were all exuding vibes that stated how badly they wanted me dead. It was causing my stomach to turn, and an uneasy feeling was rolling through me. I’d also been drinking on an empty stomach, which made me tired and bitchy.
“Let’s go outside and try it, shall we?” he offered, and I stood, only for Rhys to grab my arm, pulling me back into my chair.
“Let’s not set her on fire, okay?” he grunted, never pulling his eyes from me.
“She’s passingly pretty. However, she lacks the silver coloring of the Silversmiths that made them beautiful,” another brother stated, but which one I didn’t know because I’d given up caring or paying attention to names. “Remington. What a boyish name. Maybe they named her such because of her rust coloring?” he continued.
“I don’t know. I find it fitting for a mythical gunsmith to name her daughters after those with less ability than she has,” Nyota said, and almost complimented my mother.
“You haven’t touched your food,” Rhys pointed out, and I turned to look at him blankly.
“Between being thrown against a wall and having your family try to murder me repeatedly, I seem to have lost my appetite. One of your brothers wants to set me on fire. Another thinks I’m passingly pretty and have a horrid name. The others are wondering how to fuck me before you get to me and breed my womb because you all think it holds some kind of mythical tether to my silver talent. You’re parading me around like I’m some fucking trophy, and you think I’d still have an appetite. Why?” I asked pointedly, glaring at him. “Oh, let’s not forget that I almost let you into my vagina tonight, too. Not that it will be happening now. I’d rather fuck the sword I made you than let you touch me again tonight. So, there’s that.”
Cole choked on his liquor as the others watched Rhys to see what he would do. My fingers tapped the table, something I knew bothered him. I waited for Rhys to do something, anything other than stare at me with his pretty stupid eyes.
“Eat,” he demanded coldly.
I reached for my whiskey, downing it as the server moved closer. Rhys shook his head at the server who veered away from the glass he’d been about to refill. He pushed my plate closer, and I shoved it away. He continued until I lifted it, tossing it over my head to smirk as it shattered against the wall.
“You’re acting childish, Remington,” he pointed out.
“And you’re a dick who enjoys treating me like some fucking pet he trapped,” I muttered.
“Go to the bedroom, Remington,” he growled, and I stood without warning, pushing the chair out before he could. For all his faults, he was well-mannered.
I felt his eyes following me as I silently made my way up the stairs. I didn’t understand why they forced me to endure their company when it was clear they wanted me owned or dead. I entered the room I’d first been in, staring at the new bed, replacing the one I’d broken. Glaring, I peered up at the ceiling and walls they’d repaired in the last few hours.
Climbing onto the bed, I shed the dress, wincing at the wound on my shoulder, and sat up. I walked into Rhys’s bedroom, grabbing the curling iron out of my bag. Slipping into the bathroom in my room to plug it in, I tapped my fingers on the counter, leaning against it while I waited for it to heat up. After a few minutes, I turned to look at the wound on my shoulder in the mirror, holding the curling iron against the cut flesh until it sizzled.
I turned, staring at Rhys, who watched me silently through narrowing eyes. Ignoring him, I pulled the iron away from my shoulder, peering into the mirror at the healed flesh. Reaching over the sink, I unplugged the iron and placed it where it wouldn’t melt or burn anything.
Grabbing my toothbrush, I applied the paste and set to scrubbing his taste out of my mouth while he watched. His stare slid over my naked frame, slowly lifting back up to my shoulder with curiosity.
“Heat heals you,” he pointed out, and I rolled my eyes at his brilliant deduction. “You’re fireproof, aren’t you?” he asked, and when I didn’t answer him, he slipped in behind me, watching me in the mirror. “That’s what you