Wicked as She Wants Read Free Page A

wrong about you. I know the smell of drink. It’s something more.”
    “I answered your question, princess,” he snarled. “Now we bargain.”
    “I will admit I owe you a debt,” I said calmly. “And you owe me one as well. We are even.”
    He laughed, a dark, empty, reckless sound.
    “I owe you? We’re even? Bullshit. You attacked me, and I saved your life anyway. You owe me. Period.”
    “You cut me. Where I come from, those who threaten the lives of nobles are lucky to be drawn, quartered, and left for the bludlemmings and snow wolves. If you were my servant and you purposefully drew my blud, as you have, your entire family would be staked on the frozen hills and nibbled to death at a party. The debt you owe me is far greater than the one I owe you because I am naturally superior to you in species and breeding.”
    I glared at him. He glared back. Then he stood and walked over to me, his bare feet brushing the ripped and faded taffeta of my skirt. Leaning down, his face inches from mine, he bared his teeth at me. At me! I could feel the malevolence and alcohol rolling off him in waves.
    “Hurt me, then. Go on. Bite me. End me. I’ve lost everything I ever valued. I would welcome it, princess.”
    It came out as a growl through shining teeth, and I flinched in spite of myself. I raised one shaking, black-scaled hand. Our eyes were locked, his pupils pinpricks in twilight blue. With every ounce of strength I could muster, filled with anger at his base nature and fury at his pity, I curled my sharp talons around his throat. I could see the pulse hammering there, smell the anger pounding through him. I tightened my grip, seeking the wet burst of his skin and the hard ridges of his spine.
    “Do it!” His lips curled back over canine teeth that were sharper than I had expected. “End it! Send me back to the grave where I belong, you goddamn monster!”
    I hissed at him and squeezed.
    I couldn’t even pierce his skin.
    I let go of his neck, my throat convulsing in a sob. I couldn’t even take what was mine. He was right—I was a monster. A broken one.
    “That’s what I thought,” he said softly.
    I fell back onto the boards and curled on my side, sobbing. A single tear rolled down my cheek and fell to my wrist, leaving a pink trail. The little strength I’d gained was gone. I needed more blood if I was going to kill him. And I was going to kill him, because any human who saw royal tears had seen his own doom.
    “I’m going to end you,” I whispered. “I’m going to find blood, and I’m going to get strong, and I’m going to drain you dry. Nothing shall be more beautiful than your death.”
    He looked at me strangely. “You do that,” he said in a voice as ragged as torn paper.
    I was starting to lose consciousness again, but I felt his arms around me, lifting me from the ground and carrying me. The velvet curtains whispered past, brushing my boots.
    The last thing I heard before I passed out was his whispered, “Death has to be better than this.”

3
    My first thought upon waking was that all this passing out was terribly uncouth. My second thought was that I wanted to kiss whoever had taken off my boots. My third thought, as I wiggled my toes, was that I would probably have to kill them after I’d kissed them, because people can’t just go around undressing princesses without permission. My fourth thought was that I wasn’t a princess anymore. If my mother truly was dead, I was the Tsarina.
    Then I realized that Casper was watching me.
    I took stock of my body with eyes still closed and feigning sleep. Although I remembered everything that had happened since waking in the awful valise, I still had no idea where I was, what day it was, what year it was, or what my captor/savior wanted from me. I needed to strategize, but my thoughts were as muddled as a snowstorm on a moonless night.
    “I know you’re awake, princess. I can see you wiggling your toes.”
    “You again, servant?” I tried to