Recent content by Imogen Celreos

Her skin was flushed, her heart still thrumming as she cast her gaze to her blade when he set it on the counter. She hid her smirk behind her hand, faking a quiet cough to smother the sound of her amusement. Her green eyes lingered on Greydon as he left, her chest aching with the pull to follow...

She kissed him hungrily, moaning softly against his lips, her hands tugging at his hair, her legs wrapped tight around his waist to lock him there. A gasp caught in her throat as his lips found her skin, her head tilting, shoulder slipping free of her dress to give him more room to roam. She was...

Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods. The thought thrummed through her skull, dizzying, drowning, her body alight in ways she had never dared let it be. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling, holding him close. Her tongue tangled hungrily with his, breath stolen in every kiss, her legs wound tight...

She turned her face sharply as his thumb brushed the tear, her jaw tight as though she could bite down the humiliation. Imogen did not cry. She did not fail. She did not lose her nerve. And yet, the sound of her name leaving his lips, soft and dangerous, made her eyes close and her knuckles...

She held the knife steady, or at least tried to. He would feel the faint give of her hand as he leaned closer, the dangerous leniency that betrayed her thoughts for she knew all to well the potency of the venom coating her blade. Careful.. Idiot. Her other hand balled tight in his shirt, a...

She caught the irritation that flickered across his face. She had spent her whole life drawing the ire of men, but this time it cut deeper. Her eyes, sharp and green, betrayed more than she wanted, they gleamed like crushed emerald with unshed tears. The shame of it clawed through her. She had...

Her hand twitched at her side. Ilir's order sat heavy in her mind. This was her chance, clean and simple. Everyone thought him gone. Eira would be spared the sight. Ilir would be pleased. But her chest pulled tight with something sharp and unfamiliar. Guilt, yes, but not only that. Gods, Eira...

Her thoughts spun in too many directions at once, unsteady from the wine. She barely registered the faces she passed as she moved toward the nearest escape - the side door leading to the kitchens. The closest door. The only door that mattered. A hand caught her arm and she jolted, a gasp...

She forced herself not to roll her eyes, though it took effort. When his hand crept up her thigh, the steel in her spine locked into place. She kept her face smooth, but her skin crawled and her blood turned to ice. Touch me again when no one’s looking, and I’ll make sure you regret it. “I...

Imogen’s face did not move as Ilir spoke the name. But inside, the knot twisted cold and hard in her chest. Greydon Tomyris. She should have guessed. She had guessed, somewhere in the dark corners of her mind where she kept the worst thoughts quiet. Her eyes slid to Greydon across the room...

Imogen felt the heat climb her neck in equal parts rage and revulsion as Ilir’s hand drifted higher along her thigh. Still she did not flinch. She would not. She’d sooner set fire to her own skin than give him that kind of satisfaction. Let him touch her. Let him believe her frozen smile was...

Imogen’s eyes remained fixed ahead, the edges of her smile ironed taut by sheer force of will. It was either that or let it twist into something far less polite, far more honest. She refrained from snorting only by biting down so hard on the inside of her cheek that she tasted blood. Of course...

Imogen glanced down the table at Greydon, feigning a look of disgust as she returned her attention to Ilir. "Bastard indeed. He certainly has audacity." she commented, managing not to smirk. She tilted her head as he leaned in, her lips curving around the rim of her glass before she took a...

Ilir’s hesitation was palpable, and Imogen felt it in the tautness of his muscles as her hand settled against his arm. Clever boy, she mused, resisting the urge to grin. A pity, truly, that she hadn’t tucked away even a single vial of poison. But she’d promised herself to behave tonight, or at...

Imogen’s spine had turned to iron beneath the weight of everything, every passing minute another nail driven into the facade they expected her to wear. She stood a little too straight, her expression stoic, her shoulders set like a soldier’s, not a bride’s. But when Eira said his name, Greydon...