Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

“My own good?” The question is like a snarl, caught in the web of scales on his cheek. His voice is right there, felt against my lips like the sweep of a tongue, sinking past my ears and settling into my chest and making my entire body go on alert. My ribbons are as frozen as the rest of me, snakes caught in the eyes of a charmer. “Y-yes.” The intensity of his gaze lights a fire in my belly. “My own good was stuck on a pirate ship, with an aura like a beacon that flared across the Barrens,” he grits out, a thick spun voice meant to tie knots around me. “My own good was cowering before men who were nothing—fucking nothing—in comparison to her.” All of my ability to breathe is gone as I stare at him in shock. “My own good hated me, fought me, argued with me, but I didn’t care, because I watched her slowly come out of her shell, peeling back one layer at a time, and it was stunning.” He raises a finger in front of my face. “I got one touch. One taste, and if it was an act of selfishness, then you should know, it certainly wasn’t one-sided, Auren.” I can’t blink. I can’t think. “What...what are you saying?” My chest heaves with the breathless question, like undulating waves in an uncertain sea. I might drown in the depths of his bottomless eyes. His teeth snap together, as if my uncertainty sets him on edge. “I’m saying that you are my own good. And for you, I gave you a choice, but you chose him.” A storm rattles in my skull. A coiled collection of impregnated clouds billow...