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A nod tells me he’s satisfied with his work. The dress makes its way over to us.
D’Artaron tugs my arm.
I tug back.
He catches my wrist.
I tug again, and he releases me.
The scent of his arousal dominates the chamber now, and it’s setting my body on fire. I don’t have decades of military training in self-control, nor do I have his reserve, not to mention any discipline, so I step closer, so close that my thighs rub against his leather pants.
I cup his face. “Why won’t you answer me?”
“Because you’re not interested in my horse.”
“You’re right, D’Artaron, I’m not.” My face is flaming, but I don’t care, because this male won’t judge me, and if he declines my advances, he will do so gently so as not to hurt my feelings. “You won’t answer me because you know what I’m asking. I’m asking if you can feel my body through the things I wear.”
“Correct.”
“Can you?”
When his dominant stare becomes too much to hold, I close my eyes and kiss him. I expected he would lean back or turn away. However, he lets me kiss him and kisses me back, moving his lips, parting them. When I hear him groan, I take advantage of his temporary madness and kiss him twice more, biting his bottom lip gently. Then I pull back.
“What excuse will you tell yourself now?” I ask.
“You’re the queen, and I’m your blade. You can do what you will with me.”
“Is that another lie you tell yourself about me?”
“It is.”
And now I know for certain. Commander D’Artaron likes me. He really likes me. Trouble with blades is that they cut deep. And yet, I don’t care. I want him to make my heart bleed.
“I’m ready to conquer,” I say.
The commander tsks. “Don’t talk dirty to me.”
18
D’ARTARON
The corset and the other armor I’ve made her wear slow her down. Not to mention they make her uncomfortable. She particularly hates the steel collar around her neck, which she keeps scratching and trying to pull off. Every time she manages to unlock it, I use my magic to put it back.
“Is this really necessary?”
I side-eye her as we step out of the dreadfully dark tower. To the right, the sea meets the sky, and I pause for a moment, admiring the view, wondering if it’s my last view of dawn in the Summer Court, hoping it isn’t because that would mean I’d failed to protect the Spring queen, failed in my duty to the Summer king who made me her blade.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, admiring the view as much as I am. “Maybe, when all this is over, I could watch it from a terrace in the Golden Palace.”
“This summer,” I tell her. “All fae royals spend the season here.”
“If I am still a royal.”
“You will be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know it because I will fight for your throne until my dying breath.”
