“What now?” I demand, realizing he’s closer to me than I expected.
“Now?” he murmurs, taking the goblet from my hand and setting it aside on a table. “What do you think?”
The afternoon light is fading. And with the onset of night comes the payment of certain promises….
“You spoke like a queen today,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to look at me. “Don’t think the others didn’t notice.”
“My mother didn’t like it.”
“Your mother doesn’t like any of us. Trust me, you’re in elite company.”
That old, familiar tension pools in my stomach as he steps closer.
Every night it’s been like this.
A promise owed, and a debt claimed.
Thiago presses one hand to the table behind me, his hard body caging me in. Leaning forward, his breath whispering over my lips, he pauses.
I can’t look away.
One move and he’ll claim my mouth. I know he will. He wants to. I see it in his eyes, those ever-present fires stoked with every nightly encounter between us. There is all manner of sin in those eyes. They promise me exquisite pleasure, and they demand complete surrender.
It’s that last one I have a problem with.
But he never takes that step.
He always waits for me to make it, as if this is a game, and every time I push my piece into play, he’s the one who secretly wins.
I owe him a simple kiss. Just one. And every night they’ve been the briefest of brushes, my lips to his.
“What are you waiting for?” he whispers, his other hand reaching up to hover an inch from my breast.
I can almost feel that touch on my skin.
You.
I close my eyes against temptation and give into the inevitable, lifting on my toes and brushing my mouth against his.
Thiago leans closer, the heat of his body hovering between us. His wrist brushes against my hip, his hand flexing with the desire to touch. But it’s forbidden. Without my word, he cannot.
I feel his frustration in the tension of his body, the trembling of those hands. It’s taking everything within him to restrain himself.
And I don’t want him to hold back.
When my lips meet his, I can tell instantly that this is different. He feels it too. The moment stretches out too long, and it’s as if he senses my hesitation. His tongue brushes against my mouth, begging for more, and I can’t help myself.
I give it.
Inch by inch, he steals away my willpower. Open, his mouth urges, and then his tongue is slick against mine and there’s a gasp trapped in my throat. I melt into that hard body, trembling hands coming to rest against the hard slab of his chest.
More, his lips demand. Desperation and hunger ignite within me, and it’s like my body has a will of its own. My fingers curl in his shirt, and Thiago captures my mouth, eating at me as if wants to devour me.
Yield, his body insists, and he pushes back, hard, until my ass hits the table, and one hand clenches in my hair. I’m drowning in the taste of him. It feels as though a dam has burst, and it’s both too much and not enough.
I break my mouth from his, breathing hard.
Slowly, the world comes back into focus. It’s still not enough. I want more. It’s been a long time since I’ve had another’s hands on my skin, and never like this. Never burning through me like wildfire, threatening to destroy every last hint of control I own.
Gentle hands stroke down my sides, and every inch of my being wants to grab a fistful of his hair and tug his face back down to mine. He can see it too, heat darkening those green eyes until they’re practically smoldering.
“Vi,” he says, reaching for me.
I shove away from him, my hands going to my branded lips. This was a terrible idea.
Because I want more.
I want to forget he’s my enemy, I want to forget this is a game, forget everything but the sensation of those lips on my skin. Of all the challenges I’ve ever faced, this is the worst.
Because I don’t think one taste will ever be enough.
“Goodnight,” I call, forcing myself to haul out the daughter of Queen Adaia and cloak myself in my role as an Asturian princess.
She’s cold and regal and invulnerable to kisses.
Her heart doesn’t race.
“Until tomorrow,” Thiago says softly, and as I close the door behind me, I know those words will haunt every hour of the night ahead.
19
It’s after midnight when I realize I’m not going to be getting any sleep tonight.
With a sigh, I toss my blankets back, grab a silk robe, and escape into the tower. A cup of warm milk might do the trick, though I have no idea where the kitchens are, or even if I’ll be allowed to visit them.
After all, I’m the enemy, aren’t I?
It’s one thing to be dismissed by my mother, quite another to realize Thiago’s keeping secrets from me too. I don’t know when I started to trust him, but to realize he doesn’t return the sentiment feels like a knife wound to the chest.
The hallways are empty, though I feel the stir of one of the demi-fey shooting past, and golden eyes blink at me from the ceiling before vanishing in the sprawl of carved leaves that embellish the cornice.
“Do you know where the kitchens are?” I whisper.
Movement shifts out of the corner of my eye. One of the demi-fey weaving around a marble column like a cat wending its way through a pair of legs.
I haven’t been here long enough to cultivate them, but they’re curious little beasties.
“I want some warmed milk. And if someone were to assist me, I might be able to leave some milk out for them too.”
Three shadows bob closer. The little sprites are creatures born of the elements; they have the curiosity and intelligence of a cat, though they don’t seem to understand concepts like honor, or truth, or treachery.
“Maybe even some honey….”
One of the sylphs’ forms grows more solid, until she’s blinking those amber eyes at me. Tugging at my robe, she leads me to the left before vanishing in a swirl of wind.
I can feel them herding me, scampering through the fretwork as if it’s a forest. Others join them, curious now. All I need is a pipe, and I might as well be the famed Piper of Haggelund, luring the sprites from a town they’ve infested.
My smile fades when I realize I’m no longer alone.
Voices echo down the hallway, and light glimmers like a beacon.
This way, says the push of those invisible hands.
I forgot to request a secret way to the kitchen, where I wouldn’t be seen.
It’s too late now.
I can hear someone arguing, and the silence of the night is empty enough for those voices to carry.
“—and when do you plan on telling her?” a female voice asks.
“When it’s safe to do so.” The frost in that voice belongs to Thiago. “She’s barely begun to trust me. I can’t risk it. Not yet. We’re barely through the first ring of curse work.”
“You have five weeks.” Definitely Eris. She wastes no time with words. “Five weeks to finish this, or the game ends forever.”
“Thank you, E,” he growls. “I wasn’t aware of the looming deadline.”
“The princess is stubborn.” The first voice sounds like Thalia’s. “She knows you intend to use her to get your wife back.”