Her face was thinner and more mature then the last time he had seen her. The youthful chubbiness of her cheeks had vanished in the face of her hunger again. Her eyes were a bright sapphire blue that rivaled the beautiful sky behind her. There was a wisdom and maturity in her gaze, a broken air that seemed to enshroud her, and had not been there the last time he saw her. He did not know what had happened to her over the past couple of months, but she appeared older, and far more wounded than he recalled.
Her long hair flowed around her shoulders; its wetness caused it to be darker than its normal fiery auburn color that had always captivated him. Though she was thinner than he liked her, he couldn’t deny her simple, sweet beauty. She was far cleaner now than the first time he had seen her, but she was back in the boyish, ugly clothes again. Clothes that hid a figure that had once been lush, but was now lean again.
He saw the emotions that flashed over her face, the hope, the joy, and for a moment something he almost believed could have been love. But they were gone so swiftly that he wasn’t even entirely sure he had seen them. Tears shimmered in her eyes; her hand wavered on the bow as it dropped slightly down. He had almost forgotten how convincing her phony pain and emotions could be. He recalled the night she had begged him not to kill the other blood slave she had been captured with, Max. She had been so sincere, had sworn that he was nothing more than a friend to her. Braith no longer believed that, he believed nothing of what she had told him. He didn’t know girl before him, but he did know that she was not the girl he had thought she was. That she never had been.
He had come here to bring her back, to make her pay for her treachery. Now all he wanted was to destroy her himself. Her hand wavered, her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. The hand that had been going to drop the bow now raised it back up, leveling it at his heart. He had no doubt she would let the arrow fly, he just had no fear that it would hit him.
Just as he had no doubt that he would get his hands upon her, and she would pay.
“Arianna.”
Her full mouth pinched tightly, her eyebrows drew sharply together. “Prince.”
He moved away from the tree he had been leaning against, taking a step toward her. Even with the bow and arrow in her hands, he could get to her, reach her within a moment. Have her back in his arms again, her sweet blood back in his mouth. She had given it to him willingly last time, and he had almost killed her in his eagerness to consume it. Now he wanted it back, he wanted to taste it again, and have it fill him, and he didn’t give a damn if she gave it freely or not. He found himself relishing the idea of taking it from her forcefully, of making her hurt as bad as she had made him hurt.
“Have you come to take me back then?” she asked softly.
“No.”
She swallowed heavily, her chin tilted up a notch. He had not forgotten about her defiance, her willfulness, but he did not find it as delightful as he once had. In fact, it was aggravating the hell out of him right now. She should be cowering, trembling with fear. She had to know that she would not survive this meeting, and yet she did not show one ounce of trepidation. “To kill me then?” she asked quietly, her voice far steadier than he had thought it would be.
“Perhaps,” he murmured still uncertain as to what exactly he did want to do with her. He had wanted to take her back, to make her pay, but then she would be killed, and looking at her now he wasn’t sure he was willing to lose the strange sight she brought back into his life. What was he going to do with her then?
There was no tremor of fear in her. He knew there wouldn’t be. Recklessly fearless, it was how she had described herself, her brother. And it was true. She was possibly looking her death in the eye, but she was not going to back down from him. She was not going to cower or beg for mercy. She was going to stand there and meet him head on, and she was going to fire that arrow. Of that he was certain; he just needed to be prepared for it.
“I see.” Her eyes flickered briefly, darting swiftly around the forest. He could see the wheels in her brain spinning as she tried to formulate a plan of escape. They both knew it was useless; she would not be able to get away from him.
“Where is Jericho?”
Her gaze came slowly back to him. “Wasn’t my day to watch him,” she retorted sharply.
Frustration and anger built rapidly inside him, he was used to her defiance, but he didn’t like it. And he sure as hell didn’t want to have to deal with it after everything that she had done to him. “I’m surprised you’re separated at all, but then I’m sure you’ve moved on to someone else by now.”
Arianna nodded at him, a cynical smile twisted her full mouth. “You always did want to believe the worst of me,” she said softly, but there was no hurt in her gaze, only a fiery rage that turned them a darker, fiercer shade of blue.
“And you never failed to disappoint.”
True fury twisted her features; her hand shook slightly on the bow. Then she straightened her shoulders and rose slowly from her crouched position. “I’m glad I hold up to all of your expectations.” Her back foot twisted in the earth, digging in slightly, she was preparing to make her move soon. “I hope your fiancée does the same.”
He was mildly surprised that she knew about that, but then he should have known that his brother wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Jericho told you.”
“Someone had to, don’t you think? It certainly wasn’t going to be you.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did he tell you?”
“What difference does that make?” she snapped for the first time looking slightly disconcerted.
He took a step toward her, but she didn’t move away, didn’t even flinch. He’d had enough of her defiance, enough of her hostility. She should be fearful; she should be telling him everything that he wanted to know. She should be begging for her life like she had begged for Max’s, but she wasn’t, and she wasn’t going to. “Do you have no common sense whatsoever?” he inquired, his voice a low growl as he watched her. “No survival instinct?”
“I live in hell every day,” she grated through clenched teeth. “A hell that you monster’s created for us. The only sense I have is for survival, but since you’ve pretty much admitted that you’re here to kill me I see no sense in worrying about anything else right now, do you?”
He took another step toward her. “I’ll shoot this, I swear I will,” she hissed.