“I think Anima have brought you more than enough trouble for a lifetime, Fox. Do you think you lost your memory because the truth was so hard?”
“I don’t know. But if it’s real, maybe it’s why I have a hard time with blood.”
“Maybe,” he said, and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, and for the loss of your mother. But I’m glad you’re here.” I glanced over at him and found his gaze on me, his eyes visibly blue even in the torchlit darkness. “You said you wanted your freedom. What is that to you?”
“I could wake up and not worry about hunger or violence. I could know that Wren was safe and we wouldn’t be used as pawns. I could walk outside…and just keep going. Isn’t that what we all want?”
“As it turns out, no. I’m not sure that’s what I want.”
There was a hunger in his eyes, the same hunger I’d seen before. Against my better judgment, I felt an answering response deep in my belly, like the lines of that complicated tapestry were knotting again.
I couldn’t handle any more knots. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Is it so hard to believe that someone wants you?”
“Only if that someone is the farrier’s son.”
“I’m to compete with the Ensi and a farrier’s son, too?”
“Compete for what?”
“For you, Fox.”
I stared at him. “Are you insane? We’ve talked about this. You’re a prince.”
“With a palace and everything. Why are you in my palace?”
“For my protection.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Of course.”
He leaned forward and looked down at me, his eyes lakes of blue. “Would it be so hard, Little Fox, to admit that you are wanted? And that you want me in return?”
We looked at each other for a moment, that storm building between us, swirling around us, thickening until it obscured everything else of the world. It hid the obstacles, the barriers, the monsters that waited around us, watching for weakness.
There was no pretense of royalty now. Only man and woman, breath short, bodies taut with wanting. And me, staring down a ravine that I shouldn’t cross.
“We’re dangerous to each other.”
“No,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from my face. “Not to each other.”
“You know what I mean. Some distances can’t be crossed. So it’s better to just…”
“To just?” he prompted.
I looked away from the earnestness in his eyes. I was trying to be reasonable. To be smart. As a thief, I’d wanted many things. Gorgeous, expensive, rare, and sacred things. I’d wanted them so bad they’d made my fingers tingle. Most of the time, I hadn’t allowed myself to steal them. The time hadn’t been right, or the mark, or the object.
Maybe I didn’t deserve it. This, or any of this luxury I’d been thrown into. But tonight, in this land beyond mine, in this world of incense and music and joy and wine, I let myself take.
I leaned forward, let my eyes close, and pressed my lips to his. He drew me closer, his mouth a revelation. He kissed me like he’d hungered for me for a lifetime, had waited an eternity for the chance. One hand slid into my hair, and he tilted his head to deepen the sensation, his tongue sweeping over mine. He tasted of sweetwine and temptation, and moaned with satisfaction when I reciprocated, my tongue dancing with his.
Worries disappeared. There was only the pair of us, only my hands on his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw. Only this moment.
I ran my hands down his chest, the muscle hard as iron beneath my fingers. He went still, maybe imagining that I’d moved that hand lower and was gripping his already rigid erection. But I could tell he was working to hold himself back, to move more slowly than he might have. His desire amplified mine. My body was warm, my breasts aching with need. I wanted his hands on me, even if he wore a crown.
A hand slid to my breast, long fingers gentle and stroking, and his thumb across my nipple nearly undid me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his tightened around my waist so there was nothing between us—between us and sweet satisfaction—but thin layers of fabric. Like the tiger on his banner, he was coiled and quivering with power. I imagined what it might feel like to have his body over mine, to look into his eyes when pleasure overtook him. Even if he was fire—as dangerous and all-consuming as the Aetheric pain—I wondered how it might feel to be burned.
