From the reading loft in the education hall, the Leader watched Trent’s group head to the stables.
Shaylee Stillman brought up the rear, and he couldn’t help but notice how she walked, the way her hips moved slightly. Her forced bravado—but he believed that her mask was slipping. All that sassy, dark attitude would give way.
It always did.
Except for Lauren, right? She’d managed to keep her sarcastic tongue and glint of daring in her eyes, no matter how she was put to the test.
A classic mistake.
And stupid.
A student of history, he’d known better than to trust any female completely. Cleopatra, Mata Hari, Wallis Simpson. Prime examples of seductresses who changed the course of the world. And yet, he had let down his guard.
Not that she’d been any woman, Lauren Conway. Oh, no.
And he’d fallen for her allure.
Completely.
Madly.
Stupidly.
He’d allowed her into his inner circle.
For all the wrong reasons.
Mainly because of his ego.
And his dick. His damned dick.
Just like all those screw-ups in history who’d lost wars, given up thrones, changed the course of civilization: all for a woman.
She was Eve with the apple.
Delilah with her shears.
Jezebel with her idolatry and witchcraft!
He’d been forced to deal with her, and it had been painful, a reminder from God that despite his intelligence and his honed body, he was, in fact, only human.
And he couldn’t make the same mistake again.
Not with Shaylee Stillman.
Not with any woman.
CHAPTER 8
Everything was distorted.
Colors off. Light shifting. A headache thundering behind her eyes.
Jules blinked. She was home … right?
In the house she shared with her parents and sister?
Or was she?