IX

IX

"I want your eyes on me, Breeder..."

The word "breeder" almost sounded off to hear from Seneca’s lips, especially when he was saying it in a tone that seemed cold. Most times than not, I couldn’t tell when he was the one speaking or if the demon in his chest had taken over.

Nevertheless, I stopped stabbing through the chest of the chicken in the center of the table, lifting my eyes to send a glare in his direction.

He was slouched back smugly, watching me with a gaze that almost made me recoil into my seat.

"When I say look at me, Riley, I do not mean look at me like you’re plotting a thousand ways to murder me..."

I held my breath. "I’m not..."

"I haven’t asked about the fire, Riley..." he cut me off smoothly, reaching for a grape in the tray in front of him. "How it had started. About yesterday at the stadium, how the attack had started. I have a lot of questions I should be asking you because maybe it’d give me a headstart to understanding all that is going on..."

I tried to play clueless. "I don’t understand what you’re talking about." My voice was small. Almost trembling. But I tried my hardest to make sure I kept it leveled. There was only one answer to why he was suddenly acting so hostile, and the only thing I could think was that he felt his brother’s presence before he even walked into the room. That was debatable. Seneca had a very impulsive dragon. If he’d felt Orion’s presence, the door would have been ripped down in shreds as soon as he stepped into that hallway.

But instead, he’d walked inside, in blood, kissed me, told me he wanted to go ahead with the mating ritual, and mentioned nothing about his brothers—as Malrik had also been in my room earlier today.

"The fire started—"

"I haven’t asked yet..."

My fingers tightened around my knife. "You just..."

"Riley..."

"Yes, Dominus..." I could see we were suddenly back to the formality after he’d had his hands on me a few hours ago.

He tilted his head, the smile still smug on his lips. "Is there anything I should know?"

I instantly threw the question back. "Is there anything YOU want to know?"

"You tell me..."

"There’s nothing..."

"The fire this morning..."

My heart stuttered. "There is nothing..."

He didn’t seem entirely convinced. "Your maid came to call me in the office... when I was with a couple of rebels..."

"Rebels?"

He nodded calmly.

"Two rebels who were playing doctors. Apparently, your maid was one of them..."

My fingers were tightening around the knife. I wanted to question him on where this was heading and why there was that deadly look in his eyes, but I let him continue to speak. Ever since he walked through that door before the breakfast table was set and he disappeared into an inner room for a shower, there was some sort of energy around him that I couldn’t place, even though a voice in my head kept telling me he was acting this way because he was suspicious. I had so many secrets to hide. Malrik coming first and now Orion too.

"Did you never suspect her?"

"Suspect?"

"The girl..."

"Elin..."

"Yes... Elin... that was her name."

My voice was cracking now. "What happened to her?"

But he wasn't giving me a shot at questioning now. "You answer my questions... You know her best. I gave her as a gift to you..."

"A human isn’t a gift..."

He persisted. "I gave her as a gift to you... did you or did you not suspect that anything was up with her?"

There was silence. We held each other’s gaze across the table while steam wafted off the platters of food between us. I swear it was almost possible to hear a cricket chirping somewhere in the corner of the room if I listened well enough. My fingers turned clammy around the knife and all I could think in my head was: What are you thinking, Seneca? Why are you asking these questions? Why do you look like you’re trying to dig up something? He didn’t break eye contact, but his head tilted to the side a little. "If you continue to look like that, I’d assume you have things you’re hiding from me, Riley..."

I held my breath. HELD IT. If I inhaled and exhaled a little louder than this, he would know I was truly hiding something and would be flying across the table in a few minutes. So I held my breath. "There’s nothing to hide from you. I’d never hide anything from y—"

"Then answer the question. It’s one. One of the many I will still be asking you... If you cannot answer this, how am I going to be certain you aren’t truly hiding anything..."

"What do you want me to answer..."

"Stop playing the long game with me..."

"The girl, right? Elin, right? The gift you gave me? You’re asking if I suspected anything about her? What the fuck am I supposed to suspect when all she does is her work? She bathes me, she clothes me, she feeds me, she brings me here to you everyone morning and waits outside till we're done. What else do you want me to know or say about her?"

Seneca didn't look pleased with that answer. I caught the dissatisfaction in his eyes as he plucked another grape from the branch, before plopping it into his mouth. I could also see he was subduing his dragon. His anger simmered in the air like fire, and the underline of the ashy smell I knew to associate with him now, was filled with the heat of a masculine want. Need. It told me that he was barely putting himself around the table, but he wanted to ask me questions, to interrogate, test my loyality without his hands on me within seconds. 

His eyes were blazing, but subdued. Caught between an orange glow and a deep shade of red.

"She was a good girl..." That was the only thing I could offer to say. And maybe I shouldn't have. Because when Seneca looked up again, the glow in his eyes turned into a full shade of red.

"I’m not asking if she was a good girl... I’M ASKING IF YOU KNEW..."

"IF I KNEW WHAT?" My voice pitched right back.