“Not if she has something to offer in return.”
He cruelly smiled and tilted his head. “What do you have to offer me, Lynette? Your body? I could fuck every witch in the Dark Elite if I were in Agro’s position.”
She pouted, but was quick to smooth her expression. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you. But I’ll be loyal, Guthrie. I’ll do whatever it takes to put you in power, and I’ll stand beside you once you’re there.”
“You’re forgetting,” he countered, pressing down on her, “no one stands my equal. You will have no more power than you have now.”
She rapidly blinked, like that thought hadn’t occurred to her despite his lecture, like she’d just realized she’d be powerless forever, and her violet eyes once again glazed over. “So what will it take to stay in your good graces?”
“How far will you go?” he asked, aroused by her submission… and repulsed by the fact, repulsed by the power-hungry man ingrained in him. “Will you kill for me?”
She answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Will you die for me?”
She wiggled again, trying to feel more of his erection, but he wouldn’t let her. “Yes,” she breathed, finding his stare.
“Will you enslave yourself to me, Lyn? Beg me every day to spare your life?”
She nodded, and he scowled while tightening his hold on her wrists. “You’re a liar, Lynette. Either that or you’re a damn fool, because I’m no better than the man you wish to defy; you’d be no better off in my bed than you would his. You think you can manipulate me into taking the tough job while you sit pretty on your throne, but you’re mistaken. I’m not your puppet; I’m not going to take the risk just so you can fuck your way to the top. You want this army, go for it. Take down Agro and gain control. But leave me out of it.” He let her go and rolled onto his back. “Get out of here.”
She lay silent and shocked for about three seconds. Then she scrambled to her hands and knees and crawled toward him. “Guthrie...”
“I said get out. I’m done with your bullshit, Lyn. I already have one power-hungry person pulling my strings. I’m not handing the rest to you.”
She panicked, wildly shaking her head as she clutched his chest. “That’s not what I want…”
“You’ve made your intentions clear,” he interrupted, grabbing her wrists, “and I’m done playing along and protecting you. We’re going to take these soldiers back to Agro and go get his witch. Now get out.”
She made no effort to move, and he growled as he threw her hands off him. “That’s an order!”
Her chest shook with a choppy breath as tears sprang from her eyes, and Guthrie’s stomach churned as he rolled away. Aside from the week she was brought into camp as a small child, Guthrie had seen her cry only four times, and two of those had been in the past thirty minutes.
Several seconds passed before he heard her rise and leave his tent, and the burning ache in his chest flared. He’d been cruel to the only person in the world he cared about, and while she’d asked for it by trying to manipulate him, he could hardly blame her for wanting a better life, even if she were willing to screw and kill for it.
Chapter 12
Thursday morning’s sunshine crept over Layla’s lids as Quin’s kisses drifted over her head, and she lazily opened her eyes to her new library, which was actually an add-on to the original structure of the house.
Accessible from the downstairs hallway through a door positioned between the guest bathroom and the stairs, the library stretched into the backyard, with a set of double-doors leading onto the deck, and a huge bay window facing the forest. The furniture combined sublime comfort with the simple beauty of earth tones and solid patterns; and the accessories and artistry were custom-made, each piece unique yet complementary. There were enough shelves in the high-ceilinged room to hold all the books in Layla’s high school library, and every ledge boasted magically-carved designs that varied from shelf to shelf but were repeated often throughout the room and its objects.
The night before, when Quin first showed Layla the room, he’d apologized for not filling the shelves yet and promised to make it a proper library soon. Then he’d led her toward the bay window, saying he had to provide at least one book, or he wouldn’t feel right calling it a library.
But it wasn’t just any book, and Layla knew that by the exquisite lectern holding it. Carved from one solid piece of cedar and magically stained dark to match the bookshelves, the base of the lectern had several feet resembling tree roots, and a narrow trunk that twisted like a Contorted Willow – each groove and knot skillfully defined. The top branched out to cradle any size book, and a few of the limbs held small wooden creatures, including a caterpillar, a few butterflies, and an assortment of birds.