In the Service of the King. Laura Kaye

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      Her eyes, so beautiful, so expressive, told him how badly he’d messed up.

      What have I done?

      Chapter Three

      Shayla couldn’t meet his eyes. If she did, she knew the tear she’d been unable to restrain would turn into the first of many. The relief of his tongue’s caress had just been so beautifully complete, easing her after the slicing cut of the blade had ignited a conflagration up her whole arm. She hadn’t really believed the bloodletting would be fully painless—how could someone make a knife wound painless, after all? But she also hadn’t expected it to hurt quite so bad. She’d been worried she wouldn’t be able to hold out against the stinging pain, that her weakness would disappoint him. When it was finally over, she’d lost control, just for a moment. She was so pissed at herself for crying in front of the king.

      “You must tell me—” the king’s voice was tense, words clipped “—did you feel the blade?” Dark energy rolled off him like a storm. The hair on her arms and neck raised, prickled.

      Not meeting his gaze, she nodded once.

      “Say it.”

      Shayla inhaled a deep breath. “Yes, Your Highness, I felt the blade.”

      He shot to his feet and held his hands out from his body, imploringly. “And you did not think to say so? You must have known from your training that wasn’t…right.”

      She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. His disappointment in her was like a punch to the gut.

      “Answer me!” His voice reverberated around the stone room.

      Her gaze turned to his. It was the first time she’d violated her submissive role, meeting his eyes without permission, but his anger stirred up hers. “I endured it for you. I did not wish to displease you, but it appears I have done so anyway. So, I’m sorry I have not lived up to your expectations, but I didn’t know what else to do.” She held his gaze, annoyed that she found him so damn sexy even though she was angry. None of this was her fault. Was it? No.

      Preternatural light reflected out from behind the emerald of his eyes. She could only describe his expression as bewildered, and his loss of control, even if only in hiding his reaction, softened her anger. Finally, when she could take his intense observation no longer, she dropped her gaze back into her lap.

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