“Did she ask you to kill me?”
I nearly knock the goblet over. “What?”
He casts the washcloth aside and prowls toward me, dark eyes gleaming a cold, merciless green. “She often does, you know. I’m never quite sure if it’s a test for you to earn her trust again or a way to twist the knife she buries in my heart every time you look at me as if you don’t know me. Probably both. Adaia never likes to waste an opportunity.”
“N-no, I— I….”
His lips twist cruelly, and he snatches the dagger from the table behind me.
“What are you doing?”
Capturing my hand, he curls my resisting fingers around the blade, then sets the tip directly to the inch of skin above his sternum. “Here’s your chance, Vi. A single strike and you’ll win your mother’s love back. You’ll cast the Kingdom of Evernight into chaos, and your own people will win this eternal damned war.”
I struggle against his grip as the tip of the blade draws blood. “What are you doing? Stop it!”
“Do it,” he repeats softly.
I can’t look away from his heated gaze. “No.”
“You’re an Asturian princess, aren’t you? And I’m the enemy. If I’m lying to you, then this will earn you untold infamy within your mother’s court.”
“No!” I throw the dagger aside with a clatter and shove away from him, my heart lodged somewhere in the region of my throat. “Fine. I believe you.”
My hands shake, but I don’t dare look at them.
It’s true.
It’s all true.
My mother put that knife into my hand and whispered murder in my ear. She knew what she was sending me to do. She knew if I succeeded, then I would be standing over the body of my husband.
She has taken, and taken, and taken from me, and I don’t know how to fix any of this. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to believe.
Until this revelation, I thought I’d somehow disappointed her by not being ruthless enough, calculating enough to be her heir. All I’ve ever wanted is her approval, but I lost her respect all those years ago.
And she’s manipulated me ever since, knowing I have no memory of the past. She’s whispered poison in my ear and pulled my strings while I blithely sought her approval. Her… love.
I’ve been nothing more than a puppet to her, a blind, foolish puppet.
And Andraste knew all along.
The taste of betrayal leaves my mouth dry and ashen.
Helplessly, I look to the prince. I want to make sense of this new world I’ve found myself in, but he’s a whirlpool, spinning me further into confusion.
“I don’t know you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
Thiago stops just shy of reaching for me. Water beads on his skin. I lick my lips, half tempted to touch him. This is the only thing I can make sense of.
“No. I’m done playing this game. I’m done chasing you, as you say.” He captures my chin and tilts my face to his. “So stop looking at me with those eyes, Vi, unless you mean to cursed well do something about it.”
I press a hesitant hand flat against his chest. His heart kicks right beneath my palm, causing my breath to hitch.
But he makes no move to touch me.
To reach for me.
And I understand then. If I want him to kiss me, then I have to make the first move. If I want his hands on my skin, then I have to put them there.
“I hate this.” I brush my palm down his chest, confused by the heat of his skin and the urge to wrap myself in his arms, when he feels like a stranger to me.
“My chest?” he teases, but there’s a hint of roughness in his voice, as if he can sense my hurt.
The humor startles me. I lift my eyes to his. “You know I don’t hate your body.”
“Don’t you?” This time, his voice is a purr. His knuckles brush against my hips. “I do know you look at me quite often. Even when you profess to hate me.”
“You’re the one parading yourself in front of me at every opportunity.”
He’s getting closer, leaning into me. We stand before each other, his breath stirring over my skin and tension igniting the air between us.
“If it’s any consolation,” he whispers, “it gets better.”
“Do they ever return?”
He pauses.
“My memories. Do they ever return? Do I ever remember the past?”
Dark silky lashes obliterate his eyes. “No.”
Thirteen years’ worth of memories. Gone.
It’s not their loss that hurts so much—you can’t miss what you can’t remember—but the fact she stole them aches.
And maybe that’s the reason I stroke my hands down his chest. I need something to anchor me, and right now, that’s him.
“Help me remember, then,” I whisper before pressing my lips to his.
He brushes his lips across mine—a feather stroke of a touch that leaves me hungry for more. I turn my face to chase his touch, but he draws back. Taunting me. Teasing me. The message is clear.
I bite his lower lip, nibbling on the soft flesh in a clear response. Just try and resist me.
Our mouths meet again, and this time he captures my wrists as he bites me back.
Dark eyes burn as they lock on me. “Oh, Vi.” He slides a possessive hand behind the base of my skull and then hauls me toward him.
Our lips meet. Fuse.
It’s the kiss that’s been promised from the moment I met him. The one I saw in his eyes every cursed time he looked at me. Both sweet and achingly hot. Demanding. Wanting more than I thought I could give.
I stretch up on my toes, my palms sliding down over the ripple of his abdomen as his fingers curl in my hair. Then there’s no more time for thought. No chance for regret. He hauls me against him as if the dams have finally broken, unleashing the fury and passion within him.
Then I’m in his arms, my thighs straddling his waist as he lurches to the right.
I gasp as my back meets the bed.
This is more than I’d intended, but as he kneels between my thighs, I can’t find the breath to protest. For all that my mind holds no memories of him, my body seems to have no such qualms.
“Does this help you remember?” he breathes in my ear, his tongue lashing against my lobe as his entire weight settles upon me. “Or this?” He rocks against me, the hard grind of his erection lined up right where I want it.
Oh, sweet gods.
I arch my head back, the lash of sensation obliterating all rational thoughts. “Maybe…. Or maybe you should continue.”
The rasp of his stubble brushes my throat as he kisses his way south. “How am I going?”
“Definitely… coming back to me,” I gasp as that hard, callused hand finds the curve of my breast, palming it with rough urgency.
Then his hot mouth is trailing across my breast, his thumb finding my nipple through my shirt. I gasp as pure sensation arcs through me like a lightning bolt. His mouth follows his thumb, and I catch a fistful of his hair as he suckles on my nipple through the linen. Sweet Maia. Whatever history we might have shared, he clearly knows my body as intimately as he knows his own.
“How’s this?” he breathes, looking up the length of my body with a devilish smile on his lips.