She laughs, though if that was some kind of joke, it’s one I don’t understand.
“And that, Sir Tall, Dark, and Brooding, was not an answer.”
“Only prisoners escape, and you are not a prisoner. You may leave whenever you wish.” At that, her eyes widen slightly, and I add, “But I suggest you wait until morning when the unsavory sorts are sleeping off the night’s ale-fueled misdeeds.”
She pops another grape into her mouth as she glances at the door, likely recalling the drunken chaos we passed through downstairs, then nods. “Yeah, I think I’d prefer to avoid any more nightmare situations until the drugs wear off. Thanks…” Her slim brows draw together over the bridge of her nose. “You never told me your name.”
Ronan Greve, esteemed knight in the Kingdom of Swords and member of Prince Valen’s personal guard, at your service.
My customary introduction nearly trips off my tongue out of habit, but I catch myself and hold it back at the last second. If I’m caught when at last my hands are bathed in my enemy’s blood, they will surely put me down. The consequences will prove fatal, and I cannot risk them spreading further. If my association with the royal family of Swords is discovered, my actions could incite a war between the two kingdoms.
“There is no reason for us to exchange names,” I answer at last, pulling the shirt tails from my breeches.Keeping things impersonal will help maintain the line between us.
“Whatever.” She shrugs and munches on another few grapes. “As soon as I wake up from this vivid hallucination, I probably won’t remember your name anyway. Although…”
The look on her face tells me she is about to argue the point, so I change the subject. “Why do you keep insisting this is a hallucination, that none of this is real? What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I let my best friend cajole me into mixing vices because it’s her birthday, and because I have nowhere near her level of tolerance, I’m, as she would say, tripping balls.”
Tripping balls?New York must have a very different way of speaking, because I have no idea what she means. When she gathers as much from my blank stare, she tries again.
“Basically, I ate something that’s causing me to hallucinate. Although now that I think about it, if I was hallucinating, I’d still be able to communicate with Stella. This feels more like a dream.” She chews thoughtfully on a chunk of bread, her gaze drifting to the window where the moonlight casts a silvery glow. “That makes more sense. Eventually I’ll wake up, probably with one hell of a headache and a new rule about mixing gummies with wine.”
I mull over her peculiar words as I begin to undress, removing my shirt, unlacing my breeches, and toeing off my boots, the thud of leather against wood muffled by the thick rug beneath my feet.
“Do you often have dreams in which you are awareyou are dreaming?” My question draws her attention just as I push the fabric down over my hips.
She slaps a hand over her eyes, the other held out as though she has the power to stop me. “Whoa, buddy, hold on! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Bathing, so I can eat and go to bed. Unless you wish to bathe first.” I pause, glancing at her. She appears freshly cleaned, her skin bearing a healthy glow, so I hadn’t thought to offer.
“No, I don’t wish that. I wish for you to warn me before you get naked so I can avert my eyes.”
A hint of a smile threatens to curve my lips, but I suppress it. Smiling leads to dangerous things—laughter, joy, attachment. Love. And love leads to loss and heartbreak. In all things, there must be balance. One cannot have the good without also the bad.
But nothing can be taken if you have nothing to begin with.
I shed the last of my garments, the warmth of the hearth enveloping me as the flames cast dancing shadows across the room. Whispers of temptation tease my thoughts, urging me to play with fire. “What does propriety matter if this is all a dream? Why not let your eyes drink their fill without shame?”
She hesitates, her hand slowly lowering from her face. “That…is a good point, actually.” Her gaze travels over me, eyes widening slightly as they take in the planes of my body. Her lips part with a sharp inhale, and a rosy blush blooms across her cheeks. “Damn. I had no idea my imagination was so good.”
A visceral heat coils in my gut, desire stirring as the blood courses south, igniting a familiar ache. Myconscience will only let me indulge in this madness to a certain point. Before my cock can stand at full mast, I stride to the tub and lower myself into the steaming water.
The heat surrounds me, soothing taut muscles and easing the tension of the long journey. I try not to think about her presence mere feet away, but images of her linger unbidden in my mind. Needing to regain control of my thoughts, I dunk my head beneath the surface, letting the water drown out everything else. I hold myself there until my lungs burn, then emerge with a gasp, droplets cascading down my face.
As I blink away the water, I find her staring at me. Our gazes lock, a silent conversation passing between us—questions unasked, answers unspoken. The crackling fire fills the heavy silence, the air thick with something neither of us will acknowledge.
At last, she looks away and abruptly rises from the table. “A lot has happened, and I’m just kind of tired, you know? I mean, I get that I’m already asleep, but I’m also trying not to get too meta about it. So I’m going to lie down, if that’s okay with you.” I don’t have the opportunity to respond before she continues, pushing her fingers through her russet waves. “What am I saying? Of course it’s okay with you because it’s okay with me, and I’m in control. Great, so, thanks for the save earlier and, you know, the eye candy. Good night.”
An insatiable curiosity keeps my gaze on her as she crosses to the bed and lies down on her side, not even bothering to cover herself with the blankets. I remain silent as I wash myself, not wishing to disturb her. By the time I’ve finished, her breaths are deep and even with slumber.
I towel off and redress in my breeches, then settle at the table to eat and drink. Yet my gaze and thoughts return to her again and again. This alluring nymph is not the only mad one in the room; the idea percolating in my mind is surely born of madness.
What’s worse, as I finish my meal and gently tuck her under the warmth of the covers, I realize I have already committed myself to the foolishness clouding my thoughts.
Ensuring I have the key to the room, I exit quietly and lock the door behind me. Then I head downstairs and into the night to procure the things I will need for when she wakes.
Chapter Four
