JESSICA
45 voustion
“They call it the Cradle, as if it were a thing that cradles infants instead of the bones of men,” Kirill said beside me as we both sat at our table.
After his little shit show earlier, I don’t know how he can believe I’ll put anything in my mouth. He could’ve poisoned it for all I know.
He tears into a slab of meat with his teeth, casual, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t eat meat? Ah! You think it has poison.”
“Does it?”
Cid turns toward us from across the table, the look on his face like I just pissed on the alpha’s boots. His lip curls, nostrils flaring. “You dare question-”
Kirill lifts one hand, lazy, silencing him without even looking. “If I wanted you dead, Jessica, I would not waste poison on you.” His amber eyes glint, hunger and amusement dancing in the firelight. “I’d use my teeth.”
The hall erupts in laughter, sharp and wild. Cid throws his head back, joining in, though his eyes never leave
- me.
My cheeks burn hot, anger and shame boiling in my blood. The laughter claws at my ears, at my pride, until I can’t stand it. I snatch the goblet by my plate and tip it back, swallowing the wine in one long, furious gulp.
The taste hits hard–bitter, smoky, thick with spice.
“That’s the one I put poison on.”
My throat seizes. The heat surges higher, crawling down into my chest, and I cough, choke, wine spilling down my chin as I drag for air. Wolves roar with laughter again, pounding fists on the table, the sound deafening.
Kirill leans in close, so only I can hear the edge of his whisper: “Breathe, little fire. If it were real poison, you’d already be ash.”
I glare at him through the tears streaming from my burning throat, coughing harder “F–fuck you, Kirill.”
Kirill just laughs.
A deep, rumbling sound that shakes his chest. He shakes his head at me like I’m a stubborn pup biting at a hand too big to break. Then, slow as sin, he takes my goblet from my hand and drains what’s left of the wine.
When he slams the empty cup down, he rises to his full height. The air in the Cradle shifts, taut, waiting.
“To Jessica Westwood,” he declares, raising the goblet high, “who curses her alpha but drinks his poison anyway.”
Chapter 202
- Eft voucher
The hall erupts, wolves pounding their fists and howling. One bellows, raising a mug sloshing red, “Jessica Westwood! The Triad’s hybrid! The fire–wolf herself!”
The chant catches, spreading like wildfire through the hall. Fire–wolf. Fire–wolf. Fire–wolf.
I should hate it. Goddess, I do hate it. But the wolf inside me stirs, restless and hungry, tail lashing. She likes the sound of it. Fire–wolf. She preens under it.
Kirill lowers his cup, amber eyes never leaving mine.
“Drink with us!” someone howls, shoving a mug across the table toward me, froth spilling over the rim. Kirill nods as if he’s giving me the encouragement I don’t need.
I raise the cup high, glare still locked on Kirill, and let my voice cut through their chant. “To the Triad.” I say, steady, hard. “May your poison never be stronger than me.”
I drink. Drink and drink until I don’t know how many goblets I’ve emptied. My gaze turns hazy and somewhere between the fifth–or the fifteenth–I stop tasting wine.
“That’s enough, girl,” Kirill rumbles, his hand closing over the next cup before I can reach it.
“Oops,” I chuckle, snatching it from him anyway, my fingers brushing his. I tip it back, spill some down my chin, and laugh louder. The room tilts, but his face stays sharp. Amber eyes, sharp jaw, all carved in firelight
I lean in, squinting at him, swaying where I sit. “You look… very, very hot.”
Kirill arches a brow, amused, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Am I?”
I giggle, reckless, leaning closer and raising my finger to touch his cheek. My hand wobbles, misses once, then lands, dragging clumsy across the sharp line of his jaw. “But my mate is hotter. Grayson Westwood…. do you know him?”
My words tumble out too loud, too proud, and I snicker at my own joke, shoulders shaking. I tap his face again like he’s a doll. “Not as hot as Grayson. Mmm, Grayson’s-“I hiccup, cover my mouth, then point at him again, “-Grayson’s the hottest.”
“You smell good, though,” I mumble into his arm. “Like smoke. And teeth.” My fingers curl around his sleeve, tugging clumsily. “Don’t tell Grayson I said that.”
He chuckles, low in his chest, shaking his head. “You are dangerous with wine, Jessica.”
“I’m dangerous without it too,” I mutter, words slurred but fierce, lifting my head to glare at him through heavy lashes.
Kirill just smiles, slow, almost indulgent, and lifts his own cup to drink, eyes still watching me. “Do you miss
him?”
“I do,” I pout, lips trembling just a little as the alcohol warms my veins. “So much.”
“He’s my mate. He’s supposed to be here. I want to see him, kiss him and tell him how much I love him.”
6:07 Sat, Sep 27
Chapter 202
:
My voice cracks, spilling more than I intend, and I sway on my stool.
22
50 vouchers
Before I can catch myself, I start tipping sideways. Panic flickers, but his hand is suddenly at my waist, firm, steady, gripping me just enough to keep me upright. My breath catches, chest tightening.
“Careful.”
I glance up at him, cheeks flaming hotter than the wine. “You-“I hiccup, words tangled, voice trembling. you’re the one who did this! You sent me away! Grayson… he’s… he’s not here because of you!”
“Me?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, dangerous. “Me? I didn’t send him away, little fire. You chose to stay.”
I push a little against him, drunk courage flaring, anger and shame spilling over. “I wouldn’t have stayed if it wasn’t for you! You think I wanted to be here, drinking your poisoned wine, swaying on this stool, missing him while you… while you watch?!”
Kirill leans closer, amber eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m not the reason, Jessica. You’re here because you’re stronger than you think… and too stubborn to leave.”
“…Stubborn?” I whisper, voice breaking. “… Is that what you call it? You left me to… to hurt!”
“Okay,” he says, gripping my waist, helping me upright. “That’s enough wine. Let’s put you into your bed. girl.”
Cid strides forward, chest puffed, eyes narrowed. “I’ll take her, Alpha. Let me-”
“No,” Kirill interrupts. “I can do it.”
Cid freezes, hands falling uselessly to his sides, lips pressed into a thin line. He glances at me, then back at Kirill. “Okay.”
I hiccup, laugh, and glare at him half–heartedly. “…I don’t need you to… hold me…”
Kirill’s hand tightens, steady, possessive. “Yes, you do. Tonight.”
I feel my knees threaten to buckle again, and he adjusts, arms firm around my waist, lifting me almost effortlessly. The heat of him presses into me, intoxicating and grounding at the same time.
Cid steps back, muttering under his breath, leaving Kirill and me alone in the chaos of the hall. My head lolls. slightly against Kirill’s chest, too drunk to resist the warmth, the control, the tire coiling between us.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he murmurs, voice low, intimate, his lips brushing my hair as he carries me out of the
hall.
