Free Hunted: A Claiming Novella (The Claiming) by T. A. Grey Page A

secret, then you’ll close that door, turn around, and finish this
conversation with me.”
    Her shoulders flew back and a growl
vibrated from her throat—an animalistic sound—as she spun around, bearing her
teeth like a rabid wolf.
    He’d struck a nerve. Perfect . He
had her in a corner now. He’d deftly taken the upper hand and she didn’t even
know it yet. He had her where he wanted her.
    Because he knew her secret. A secret so
heinous, the king himself would turn her in to see her beheaded. An arena would
cheer as they watched her die, so hated would she be. If they only knew what he knew.
    Pistol or not, he’d get what he wanted.
On second thought, this would require another drink. He finished another swig
of fire before continuing with his plans.
    She didn’t share the same patience he’d
summoned. “My secret?” Her eyes changed then, turning into something cold and
deadly. A look that nearly made him tighten his grip on his sword handle—but
that’d be silly—she was no real danger to him.
    “Yes, your rather ugly little secret.
Only, it’s not so little, is it? What would people think if they knew, Lysse?
What would they think of you?”
    “I’m a whore. It won’t be much different
than what they think of me already.” Her eyes rolled. She sighed like a
dramatic actress, her expression telling him how very boring this all was to
her. How very boring he was to her.
    It grated his nerves like eating rocks.
She never did take him seriously. His hand curled into a white-knuckled fist.
Then he forced it to relax; no use getting riled up. Not when he had her where
he wanted her.
    “Angry? You always did lose your temper
easily.” Her smug laughter rankled him more than he liked.
    Patrick glowered, not finding her
laughter anything close to humorous.
    She tossed her long hair over her shoulder.
“You always were oblivious to the truth. As if I’d tell you anything. You’d be
surprised at the things I hear. At the thoughts people let slip out around me
when they think I’m not listening or too dumb to understand. It’s even better
when they think you’re stupid. My dear Patrick, it’s all rather glorious how
easily they are played.”
    “Even the king?”
    “Yes, even Lyle.” Her eyes twinkled with
smug satisfaction.
    He had no doubt her words rang true.
    “Do explain, love. I’m aching to hear
all.” Sarcasm dripped from him like ooze.
    “Lyle feels quite the affection for his
friend, the general. The king had a long list of names he could have chosen
from for the Claiming Ceremony. All the women were perfectly attractive and
healthy, but he chose Penelope Farris. A ballet dancer from town who’d created
quite a name for herself. She’d managed to entrance the attention of the
general.”
    “I believe that’s because of how high
she can kick her legs.”
    Before she could blink, Patrick
unsheathed his pinpoint sword from his cane and held the tip to her neck.
    She sucked in a breath, caught by
surprise. Delicately, she arched her neck away from the deadly point.
    But he kept the silver-plated tip poised
at her neck, his arm ready to finish the deed. Though, it’d pain him to end
her. In ways he’d always—appreciated—Lysse and her tenacious personality. It
reminded him much of himself. Or maybe it was because they were both on the
lower rung of life, in ways, and they shared that in common.
    “Perhaps,” he agreed. “I want you to
tell me everything you know about Ryon’s schedule for the Claiming Ceremony
tomorrow.” He tapped the edge of his sword to her throat—a warning.
    Her pistol was pointed at his knee, so
at least his manhood was safe. For now. “Why should I?”
    “I want to know where Ryon will be
staying before the ceremony, and when he’s brought to the arena. Surely you
know the location. It changes year to year. Which room will he be taken to?”
    Cold eyes watched him like a hawk to a
mouse. Any moment he felt she might pounce on him.
    “Why do you want