Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,36

and ash. He tasted of warmth, but not comfort or kindness. It was the kind of blistering heat that could set even the coldest of women aflame.

“And if that’s not enough?” she asked, hardly more than a whisper.

This close she could see the scar that ran down the left side of his face, stretching from eyebrow to cheek. Without thinking, she lifted her hand reaching to—

“You don’t get to decide what’s enough here, Quinn,” Lazarus said. “You’re my vassal. For the next five years, I own you. If you want me to trust you with things, maybe you should learn to stay in your room like I told you to.”

Quinn blinked and stepped away. Shaking her head, she shifted to step past him, her shoulder slamming into his upper arm as she stared out into the empty streets and beyond.

“I’m your vassal,” she spat, striding past. Her back to all of them as she turned onto the main road that led back to the Moonlight Inn. “Not your slave, Lazarus. Or have you forgotten the details of the contract we signed?” She didn’t wait for his reply, or even care if he had one. She strode off, not caring if he followed.

Own me? She scoffed, and the darkness inside twisted. Stupid, arrogant man. No one will own me. Never again.

“I gave you one command. Stay in your room. And what do you do—”

“I go for a walk because I’m tired of being watched night and day,” she snarled. The sky turned black, truly black, as every star in existence winked out and a canopy of darkness spread above them. Quinn clenched and unclenched her hands, because somehow, some way she knew that it was her. She was doing this.

The void descended, creeping from the sky into the horizon as Quinn’s temper spiraled. A black wind swept through the sleeping town, and while not a hair on her face moved, the dreaded chill it brought with it was enough to give Lazarus pause.

“Wait.”

Her footsteps came to a halt, and she turned her head to the side just a fraction as warm fingers wrapped around the sleeve of her forearm. “Quinn, wait.” The void paused in its creeping, waiting to hear what he had to say the same as she did, both of them withholding judgement.

“You don’t treat Lorraine this way, and she’s a vassal. You don’t treat Draeven this way, or Dominicus. Just me. Why is that?” Quinn asked.

“Because you go for a walk and I find you in an alley, cornered by three men—”

“I handled them,” she interjected.

“I know,” he answered. She paused and frowned. His acceptance was the last thing she expected after the rant about owning her. “You get cornered, Quinn, and leave a string of bodies in your wake.”

“So, it’s my fault that they wanted to rape me?” she asked, her temper rising once more.

“That’s not what I said,” Lazarus replied with a hint of ire. “Although, I’m not so stupid to think that they just happened upon you. You have a way of finding trouble, and on this trip that is the last thing we need. That’s why I asked you to stay in your room.”

Quinn snorted and the void started to slowly disintegrate.

“If that’s what you call asking, I’d hate to see what you consider an order.”

Lazarus didn’t find her as funny. “I’m not trying to strip you of your freedom, but I need you to follow my commands and understand that there is a reason for everything I ask.”

“I’m not a blind follower,” she said, spinning around to look at him as the stars slowly popped back into existence. “You told me you wanted me because I’m a fear twister. You said you’d help me learn how to control it. All you’ve done thus far is drag me across Norcasta and stick me with Lorraine—and if I have to hear lessons on my ‘manners’ one more time—”

“I’ll speak with Lorraine,” he said calmly. There was a twitch in his cheek that was either annoyance or amusement. She couldn’t quite tell.

“I want my own horse,” she continued, and Lazarus only sighed.

“You can barely ride as it is,” he said, lifting a brow.

“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “I’m tired of hearing her voice. Lord Sunshine makes me want to stab him. Repeatedly. And I’m fairly certain Dominicus is afraid of me, which would make for an uncomfortable ride for both of us. Either give me a horse or put me on yours, but I’m not riding