A long, tired sigh escaped my lips, and I leaned back against the stone.
“Problems with the nobles?” Sullivan asked, stepping off the dais. “I saw Fullman and Diante heading out of the palace earlier.”
I sighed again. “Fullman questioned my every decision regarding the DiLucris and the geldjagers before threatening me for not including Tolliver in the Tournament of Champions.”
Sympathy filled his face. “And Diante?”
“She asked me to include Nico in the tournament, which I agreed to do.” I paused. “And then she said that I’d made the right decision displaying the geldjagers’ bodies. She was actually quite supportive.”
I told him everything Diante had said, including how the geldjagers had burned her orchard and killed her people. The only thing I omitted was her advice about continuing down my bold, brutal new path. I wanted some more time to think about that before I told Sullivan my true plans for the Regalia.
“Maybe she’s finally warming up to you,” Sullivan suggested. “Or at least hates the DiLucris enough to align with you on this.”
I shrugged. “If I had to bet, I would say it was her hatred of the DiLucris that made her so approving. Diante might be inscrutable, but she wasn’t faking her rage, grief, and heartache. I could smell how angry she was.”
Sullivan studied me. “She sided with you, but you still seem upset. Why? Did she say something else?”
“No. But Diante’s story and facing down the geldjagers earlier reminded me of . . .” My voice trailed off, and I couldn’t finish my thought.
“Of what?”
“Of some things that happened after my parents were murdered.” I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the awful memories from flooding my mind.
“You’ve never told me much about your parents,” Sullivan said. “Or what happened to you right after they died.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not something I like to dwell on. And I have far too many problems right now to start digging up painful memories of the past.”
Sullivan studied me a moment longer. Then he shrugged out of the dark blue cloak that Calandre had draped over his shoulders, tossed it aside, and prowled over to where I was still leaning against the doors.
I watched him come, admiring his strong, confident stride and tall, muscled body. Even now, after all our weeks together, I still couldn’t believe that he was here, that he was mine, and that he loved me just as fiercely as I did him.
Sullivan stopped in front of me, his body a few scant inches away. He tilted his head to the side, and his blue, blue gaze locked with mine. A slow, devastating smile spread across his lips. “Well, if you don’t want to focus on your bad memories, then you should let me help you make some new ones.”
My heart stuttered, my breath caught in my throat, and hot, liquid desire started simmering in my veins. “What kind of memories?”
He gave me another wicked smile. “The kind this consort specializes in.”
He leaned forward and braced his hands on the door on either side of my shoulders. My lips parted, and my body tensed with anticipation. Sullivan loomed in front of me, his handsome features blotting out everything else. My eyes began to flutter shut, and he drew closer to me . . . and closer . . . and closer still . . .
Sullivan kissed the tip of my nose.
My eyes snapped open. He leaned back and grinned, smugly pleased with his teasing.
“A kiss on the nose?” I muttered. “Really?”
“What were you expecting?” Sullivan kept teasing me. “Some grand romantic gesture? I already did that on the Pureheart Bridge, remember? Or perhaps you wanted me to sweep you off your feet and spin you around the room.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sweeping me off my feet is a bit much. Especially since I am perfectly capable of standing on my own two feet. Besides, I’d probably get dizzy if you actually spun me around.”
“But?”
“But I wouldn’t have minded something a bit more passionate,” I grumbled. “We’ve only been together for a couple of months. That’s far too early for you to be kissing me on the nose and tucking me into bed like we’re an old married couple.”
Sullivan’s smile widened, and his eyes burned like blue stars. “Oh, highness,” he murmured in a low, husky voice that sent a shiver racing down my spine. “I would be quite happy to tuck you into bed. All you had to do was ask.”
I arched an eyebrow, silently daring him to give me another chaste kiss on the nose. For a moment, I thought that was exactly what he was going to do, but Sullivan dipped his head, surged forward, and crushed his lips to mine.
Every single part of him filled up my senses. The firm feel of his lips against my own. The quick, sure thrust of his tongue into my mouth. The warmth of his body heating the air between us. His vanilla scent tickling my nose with its faint, intoxicating hint of spice.
The kiss ended as quickly as it began, and Sullivan drew back, his hands still braced on the door on either side of my body, still not touching me. Not yet.
“Now, that’s more like it,” I whispered in a breathless voice.
He grinned again. “Oh, highness. I’m just getting started.”
He leaned forward as though he were going to kiss me again, but this time he aimed lower, and his lips landed on my neck. I tilted my head to the side to give him better access, even as his hands crept up and started working at the silver crown-of-shards clasp on the front of my cloak. The garment drifted down to the floor, pooling at our feet.
Sullivan drew back, then leaned forward and kissed the other side of my neck. This time, his fingers worked on the laces on the front of my tunic, quickly loosening them. I lifted my arms so that he could draw the garment up and over my head, along with the soft, thin camisole underneath. He tossed them both aside, then snaked his arm around my waist, turning me around so that his chest was pressed against my back. Even through his tunic, the delicious heat of his body sank into my own bare skin.
Sullivan kissed my neck again, while his hands slid up my stomach and cupped my breasts. He gently squeezed them, then rolled the nipples between his fingers. That heat in my stomach spread through the rest of my body, and I sighed and arched back against him.
“If you like that, highness, then you’re going to love this next bit,” he rasped.
“I know I will,” I murmured, lifting my hand to stroke the side of his face.
His hands left my breasts and slid lower. This time, he worked on the laces on the front of my leggings, undoing them as quickly and skillfully as he had the ones on my tunic.
His hand slid inside my leggings and then down below my silken undergarments. I turned my head to the side so that I could look up at him. Sullivan stared back at me, another wicked grin on his face. Then he leaned forward and kissed me again, flicking his tongue against mine, even as he cupped my warm, wet heat.
I hissed at how good it felt.
Sullivan rubbed his fingers back and forth, caressing that most intimate part of me. That warm desire in my veins burned brighter and hotter, turning into sharp, throbbing need.
“Sully,” I rasped, urging him on. “Sully.”
He kissed my neck again, his tongue skipping over the frantic, pounding pulse in my throat. I drew in a breath, but all I could see, feel, taste, smell was him. With every slide and glide of his fingers, Sullivan teased me a little higher until finally that sharp, throbbing need exploded into a tidal wave of pleasure. I cried out and sagged back against his body. He wrapped his arm around my waist again and pressed a kiss to the top of my shoulder.