He grunted as he turned up the stairs. “More than one.”
He didn’t set me down, and I allowed a fraction of a smile to form. Just a little longer. It was only me and Kallias the man, not the king of Radaan.
“And you?” I slid my hand between his neck and mantle, my thumb brushing his throat.
He stiffened, swallowing hard, his pulse thumping beneath my touch. “Too many.”
My chest tightened at the idea of someone trying to kill him. That terror—the helplessness of knowing I was outmatched—flared again. At least he knew how to wield a blade. I never thought I’d need that kind of skill—and neither had Scythe.
I rested my cheek against the chilled gold on his shoulder, tracing the sensitive skin on his neck. His warmth seeped through the layers of clothing. He was alive. He was here. And he would keep me safe.
At the top of the stairs, he paused. Shadows clung to the walls, and only a single lantern cast flickering light. His hands tightened around me as his attention shifted to Greaves.
“Go.”
“Kal–”
When the king said nothing more, his bodyguard loosed a breath, his shoulders sagging with resignation. He hesitated, then stepped out, closing the door behind him.
The silence stretched, broken by the flickering light against the bare walls. Kallias stood still, his breaths even and measured. I forced myself not to hold my own breath, waiting for something—anything—from him. His bright gaze gleamed, fixed on the door as if it held all the answers.
I reached up, my hand cupping his jaw, feeling the coarse scruff beneath my palm.
“Gods, Nienna,” he groaned, his eyes drifting shut. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
The night’s oppressive toll settled over me, dragging down every guard I’d built. With him, I couldn’t pretend. Scythe’s death shattered that illusion—it showed me that life could end in an instant. Tomorrow was never promised, not to him, not to me.
“Don’t take me to my rooms.” The thought of returning—no matter how many times it had been cleaned, how thoroughly the reek of death had been erased—was unbearable.
“I want to bring you to my bedchamber.”
Heat flared inside, shame and desire coiling together. My heart raced as my thumb brushed over his lips. In his arms, with his scent surrounding me, I would forfeit my crown. I would sacrifice everything for him to turn his head and kiss me senseless.
“I’d give you the queen’s rooms,” he murmured, then snatched my finger between his teeth, running his tongue along it.
My breath quickened, my body trembling. Butterflies stirred low in my belly, and sanity abandoned me with a quiet whimper.
With a tortured groan, he set me on my feet. One hand pressed against my back, pulling me closer, while the other tangled in my hair. I gasped, meeting the fire in his gaze, my body responding to the heat of his proximity as he leaned down.
“You did beautifully,” he whispered, voice thick with longing. “Gods, you’re already a queen.” His fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, as if fighting to keep his composure.
I didn’t want his control.
“Kiss me.”
The words barely escaped in a whisper, but they shattered his restraint. In an instant, he was on me, his body pinning me with urgency.
The embrace in the library was a distant memory, a mere shadow of this. No hesitation. No seduction. This was raw, a desperate reminder that we were alive. His mouth slammed into mine, and I moaned, ravenous, opening to him without thought.
His tongue plunged between my lips, stroking, teasing. The faint taste of kahve mixed with the warmth of him. I whimpered, fingers clutching his shoulders as I matched him, stroke for stroke. Our tongues met with a fierceness that our bodies never could—his taking, demanding. And mine—pleading,encouraging.
His hands tore from my waist and gripped my thighs, lifting me. I gasped, wrapping my legs around him as he spun, slamming me against the rough wall. His lips burned a trail down my throat, biting through the delicate fabric grazing my collarbone.
“You dress like you can conquer kingdoms.”
I threaded my fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer. “And all I want to conquer is you.” I hissed, pulling him back to me.
He growled, taking control with a fierceness that made my breathless laugh slip against his lips. His hands slid higher, gripping me tighter.
