He dropped into a vacant seat near the circle with a casual ease that bordered on insult, his gaze traveling from her boots to her face as if he were sizing up a delectable prize.
"It really is a waste," Riley said, lacing his fingers behind his head. "You've grown. Stronger. More refined. A genuine shame that I'm going to have to kill you anyway."
A low, warning sound came from the head of the table. Malakor was watching Riley with the expression of a man considering whether to let his beast have a snack.
"Amadeus," Malakor growled low. "You are in my tent. You are here only because of your family's name. You are not here to settle your childish grudges on my rugs. Remember where you stand."
Riley raised a hand in a peace gesture, the smirk staying in place.
