From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

The Royyal Guards avoided eyye contact as theyy bowed upon our
approach. The dark-skinned one stepped aside, his hand on the door. He
started to open it.
For some reason, I looked back at Hawke. Whyy, I had no idea. “I’ll
wait for yyou here,” he assured.
I nodded and then faced forward again, forcing one foot in front of
the other, telling myyself that I was getting worked up over nothing.
Stepping into the suite, the first thing I noticed was that the curtains
had been drawn. The soft glow of several oil lamps seemed to be absorbed
byy the dark wood paneling and the furniture fashioned from mahoganyy and
crimson-hued velvet. Myy gaze fell to the large desk and then the credenza
behind it, where several cryystal bottles of various sizes were full of amber
liquor.
Then I saw him.
The Duke sat on the settee, one booted foot resting on the table before
him, and a glass of liquor in his hand. Chills swept through me as he
looked over at me with eyyes so dark, the pupil was almost
indistinguishable.
It made me think that when next I saw Ian, his eyyes would no longer
be green like mine. Theyy’d be like the Duke’s. Pitch-black. Bottomless.
But would theyy be as chilling?
I suddenlyy realized that the Duke wasn’t alone.
Across from him was Lord Mazeen, seated in an arrogant sprawl. He
held no drink in his hands, but his fingers tapped idlyy on his bent knee.
There was a smirk on his well-formed lips, and everyy instinct in me
screamed that I needed to run because there was no fighting what was
coming.
The door clicked shut behind me, causing me to jump a little. I hated
the response, hoping that the Duke hadn’t seen it, and knowing that he had
when I saw him smile.
Teerman rose from the settee in one fluid, boneless movement.
“Penellaphe, I am so incrediblyy disappointed in yyou.”