Pawns in the game

[Oriena]

His Russian tongue earned no reaction; well he should speak the language, and fuck what Brandon thought. The toast impressed her even less. Beauty was an ephemeral thing. Not a compliment she coveted unless it was one she coaxed through blind obsession, winding it around herself like a wreath. But that was not on the agenda tonight. Manix slammed down his glass. Thought to dazzle with showy words. A distraction. Did he think she was fucking stupid? Or that his secret was worth the effort it would take to pluck it from his lips? She'd already guessed at what he was. The rest didn't interest her tonight.

Her gaze wandered away, languidly taking in the rest of her kingdom. Carmen kept glancing at their table with hard eyes. Belatedly Ori remembered she had blamed Jaxen for the bruises on her face the following day, and Ori had never bothered to correct her.

Speaking of. Jaxen's insult didn't graze her; he certainly hadn't complained when he'd been inside her, moaning into the curve of her neck. But the intention; that twitched a violent streak. She only had to shove the foot resting on the table to shunt in hard into his knees. The promise of it glittered into the gaze she turned on him, even as she resisted the action. She wondered if he'd learned more of the power since their last encounter; if she could lure the temptation to act rashly. Ori knew he had a temper. And a deliciously delicate ego.

Lust and violence entwined irrevocably in her mind, and the sly promise in her gaze could confuse either one. The low lighting sucked the colour from her eyes, leaving them gray storm clouds. "I have a better toast for you,"
she said, smirking. "To the "ascendants." To the new gods."