Bully Romance Books

“You were just elevated beyond the mundane.”
I snorted with laughter. “Is that what you’d call it?”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many blightborn women would literally kill to be in your place right now? I found you on a pile of corpses.” He sniffed the air with his hawkish nose, and his aristocratic features twisted in disgust. “You still reek of them.”
I crossed my arms self-consciously. He was right. That didn’t mean he wasn’t also a bastard for saying so.
“I haven’t exactly had a chance to take a bath. Someone was dragging me around in chains, as you’ll recall,” I pointed out.
“Well, you’ll have all of the perfumed baths you want now. But there’s far more to the bargain.”
“More than being chained to you for the rest of our lives? That is what those words meant, right?” I hesitated, then added, “And I’m not the only one, am I?”
“Oh, you noticed Regan, did you? She looked delighted, didn’t she?” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about her. I’ll see to it that she falls in line.”
“I won’t worry,” I said. “Because I don’t share. And I’m not your mate, no matter what your uncle or anyone else announced.”
“Keep telling yourself that. But you felt the binding. You had no choice. Neither did I. Do you really think I’d have chosen this?” He looked me up and down, then shook his head. “You’re beneath me in every possible way. Whoever you are, whatever you are.”
I snarled, surprising myself. “Good to hear. Because you won’t be touching me at any point. Let’s get that straight. You certainly won’t be breeding with me.”
“I have no plans to touch you if you were the last woman in the Thralldom,” he snapped back, looking just as furious. “But if I did…”
“Yes, yes, I should feel ever so honored, ever so grateful. Is that what you like to tell yourself as a woman lies beneath you? You think to yourself how honored she must feel? Gods, you’re a piece of work.” I shook my head. “I almost feel sorry for Regan.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Regan is thrilled to be my future consort. She doesn’t need your pity.”
“Right. I’m sure. So, what now?” I changed the subject abruptly. “Where are we?”
“Ah, yes, your second question. If you’re finished trying to convince yourself you aren’t bound to me…”
“I’m not, never will be.”
“Whatever. This–” He gestured around us. “Is Bloodwing Academy.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What?”
“An academy. A school. They do have those where you come from, don’t they?”
I glared at him. “I believe I’ve heard the words once or twice.”
“Good. I daresay it’s too much to hope you can read and write, too, and aren’t secretly some swine herder’s daughter.”
― Briar Boleyn, On Wings of Blood