Sutton was a different person when he talked about Torryn. All the passion and fire that laced his words in every other conversation disappeared. It felt methodical and rehearsed, the way a bored guide would give a museum tour. Something about that made me sad.
I met his sea-blue eyes and offered him an encouraging smile. In a matter of days, I went from wanting nothing to do with Sutton Thorne to fighting this heart-stopping need to seep into his soul and learn all his secrets, even the dark ones. Those were the ones I craved the most.
He stood there, shoulders straight, jaw tensed—the kind of chiseled that artists sculpted Greek statues after. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as his eyes bore into mine. Everything about him emanated privilege and power. How could someone so beautiful be so sad?
“You know a lot about your country,” I offered.
Too bad knowing and caring were two different things.
“I’m the ki—future king. That’s my job.” His voice held no emotion, but his eyes said it all. Blue-green orbs blazed in a mix of fire and sadness, anger and defeat. Anger at what, I didn’t know yet. But I would find out.
“Right. Well you’re a lot more interesting than Mrs. Fernsby.”
“I sure the fuck hope I’m more interesting than someone named Fernsby,” he said, and I laughed picturing her round face and wire-rimmed glasses. Yeah, Sutton had her beat by a mile. He held his hand at the small of my back and led me back into the Great Hall.
The castle seemed to go on for miles. I guessed with three-hundred and thirty-five rooms, it kind of had to. I’d only ever seen my little corner. The library was close to the kitchen and both of those were near the exit leading to the South Garden. Other than a rare trip to Mama’s office, I never ventured anywhere else because I never needed to. There was so much history here, so much wonder. Sutton told stories of assassination attempts and alleged witchcraft, and I soaked it all in like a sponge. Some of it put the stories I read in the library to shame. I was almost sorry that in a few months I would leave this all behind.
Or would I?
I had to. There was no way this thing between us could last longer than a moment. Even the brightest fires eventually burned out. Sutton would find someone like the brunette he brought to the library, someone with nobility running through her veins, someone his father would approve of, and he would marry her. I tried to imagine how it would feel to see him every day and not feel his gaze or know his touch. He was a prince on the path to becoming a king, and I was a girl who wanted more for my life than to be trapped in a library and getting excited about making brownies. My reaction to that revelation bothered me more than it should.
A minute later, Sutton brought us into another room. “The Abundance Room,” he called it. The more rooms he showed me, the more relaxed he became, like sharing his home with me made it less intimidating in some way.
His home. I mentally laughed at the word. I grew up in a two-story, five-bedroom brick house. Some might have even called it an estate. We had stables, a guest house, and a nine-acre farm. There was plenty of room to play hide and seek but still never feel like you were lost. A tiny creek ran along the back acre. The water was always ice cold and felt like jumping straight into a pool of glass, but I never cared. I splashed and played in it until my lips turned blue. Mama would get so mad. That was a home. This was not a home. But it was all he knew.
Huge archways framed all the windows separated by square marble columns. Detailed paintings of clouds and angels playing harps and blowing trumpets covered the ceiling. Large, round tables were lined up across the floor, cloaked in white linen and topped with large, colorful floral arrangements. It looked primed and ready for a wedding reception or a really fancy tea party, the kind where I imagined white-gloved, sharp-nosed waiters passing out petit fours on silver trays.
I walked up to one of the tables, my sandals clapping against the stone floor, and smelled the flowers. The sweet scent transported me back to the South Garden, and I wondered if that’s where the flowers came from. “It’s beautiful.”
Sutton leaned against a wall, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle, and watched me take it all in. “This is where we have coffee and wine.”
“You have an entire room just for drinking? And to think I feel accomplished sipping from the corner chair in my living room.”
I inhaled one more scent of the fresh flowers then turned to face Sutton. Our eyes locked, and a nervous shiver tingled across my flesh. The way he stared at me made me feel exposed, bare, stripped down to my very soul.
I sucked in a breath. “What?”
He pulled his hands from his pockets and walked across the room, stopping just in front of me then ran the back of his finger down the side of my bare arm. “You’re so damn perfect.”
My heart seized at his words. I wasn’t perfect. Not even close. And I both hated and loved that Sutton saw me that way. This pull… this force… was getting stronger. Like a shadow with a lantern at the bottom of a dark staircase. Beckoning. Calling. It was always there, but now I’d given myself to it. I followed the light… straight into the darkness. I needed to slam on the brakes before I crashed heart-first into a brick wall.
“I fart in my sleep,” I blurted out like it was the most natural thing in the world. I mean, I guess it was, but most people preferred not to talk about it.
His eyes flashed with amusement, and he choked on his words. “What the fuck? How would you even know that?”
“I don’t. I just needed to get you away from whatever is going on inside there right now.” I swirled my fingers in a circular motion around his head.
I needed to remind us who we are, who we were meant to be.
He stepped forward, dominating the space between us while his eyes searched my face. “You don’t want to know what’s going on inside my head, little sheep.”
There he went with the little sheep again. One day I would find out what the heck that meant.
“I know I’m going to break your heart.”
It was a lie. Sutton didn’t have a heart, and even if he did, it was probably a muddle of darkness covered in branches and thorns, just like his name. It was my heart that was in danger, shattered and broken from everything I had lost. Still, here I was placing the pieces in his powerful hands and waiting for him to put them back together.
His gaze captured mine. Something dark and dangerous lurked in the blue-green depths. “And I’m going to break your fucking bed.”
Every time I looked at Katie, I had this overwhelming sense of possessiveness, an unstoppable primal reaction. She belonged to me. Only me. All her fiery spunk and her insane curiosity. Her sinful moans and the way her lips part and she holds her breath, slowly closing her eyes and tipping her head back when she comes. This wide-eyed, innocent way she soaked in her surroundings, hanging on every word I said as I talked about the castle. It was all mine. Every last fucking bit of it. The name Bellizzi was no longer a curse word. I had a taste of heaven, and it was fucking perfect. Tangy like a tomato with the tiniest hint of copper. Smooth like butter. Musky like bourbon. Everything a pussy was supposed to taste like. The aftertaste lingered on my tongue.
I licked my lips and tasted her.
I swallowed hard and tasted her.
And the minute I ever stopped tasting her, I would bury my face between her thighs and taste her again.