Kallias’ jaw tensed, his eyes flicking upward as if the words he needed hung out of reach. “It is... unseemly to take a mistress in public.”
“Only in public?” My scoff came sharp and cold.
Just because it was common practice didn’t make it any less vile. My hand moved, trembling, tracing the green brocade of his coat. Fury and despair warred inside me, leaving a heady, disorienting ache in their wake.
“And a private study?” I asked.
If Tallon thought he could take whatever he wanted, then so could I. There’d never be love between us—only ink and signatures. An empty union.
His eyes snapped back to mine and he tried to retreat, but I tightened my grip in the thick green brocade of his overcoat.
“If it is acceptable for him to take Fyrn,” I whispered, “it’s good enough for me.”
“A mistress?” He spat the word as if it were poison, recoiling as much as I would allow him. He jerked back, but my hold anchored him in place. His hands clamped around my waist, firm but hesitant, as if warring with himself. “You would have me treat you as less than what you are? Sharing the bed with my son at night, and bed me in closets and in secret? Is that what you want? To live with lies on your lips and deceit in your heart?”
His words sliced through me, cutting deep. This was the best I’d have, the only happiness allowed to me. And I would take it.
“We already live a lie,” I hissed through my clenched teeth. “This game we play, the secret glances, the long, empty nights... We lie to ourselves, to everyone! We wear our masks and pretend there’s nothing between us.”
I laid myself bare before him, my soul a raw, aching wound. I was dying inside, holding on to the one thing that might make me feel alive. “Take me, Kallias. I want to be your mistress.”
His frustration flared, and before I took another breath, he stepped forward, shoving me against the wall. His hard body trapped mine, and he raised a hand to grip my chin, forcing me to meet his stormy gaze, his eyes burning with wrath—and something darker.
“You are worth more than that. You–”
“I can’t have more than that, Kallias!” My voice cracked.
“You deserve–”
“What? What am I allowed to have?” I snapped, swallowing the scream that threatened to tear free. My fingers dug into his coat. “Tell me what part of you I can claim—what role might I play in your life besides a hidden secret? Will you ever make me your queen–”
“The blood oath–”
“Is for Tallon and me. Yes. But if you wrote–”
“If I wrote your father, the sun-scorched king of Draconia,” he interrupted, slapping a palm over my mouth, silencing my protest. “To tell him I have lied, forsaken the promise of my blood and decided to bed his daughter rather thangive her to my age appropriate son—he would send a fleet to Radaan, but instead of aiding me—they would raze the fields!”
I bit at his hand, frustration searing my flesh. He cursed, yanking it back and bracing against the wall, towering over me.
“Then not as your queen. My title might belong to Tallon, but let me give you myself.Thatis mine to offer.” I tugged at him, desperate, feeling him fight against the pull, but his resistance only added fuel to my fire.
“Your body is sacred.” His voice was a growl, his grip tightening at my waist as he lifted me, his strength forcing me into the wall. “It deserves to be worshiped. Do not throw it away.”
“I’m throwing it at you, fool!” I locked my legs around him, pulling him closer, desperate for the contact. He thrust against me, driving his hips into my core and I gasped arching my back as a painting above us teetered.
“You would have me treat you like a common wench.” His words were filled with rage, his gaze searing through me as it trailed from my face down to my chest.
“I would be yours.” My breath hitched, and I pressed myself closer. “Take me as yours.”
Something wild snapped in him. His mouth crashed onto mine, fiery and demanding. A moan escaped me, both relief and pleasure flooding my senses. I parted my lips, surrendering, and his tongue swept in, relentless and ravenous. One hand held me up, while the other brushed the front of my gown, grazing my breast with a heat that ignited every nerve.
I scrambled at his overcoat. Buttons flew as I tore at the fabric, desperate to strip it away.
So many more layers to go.
He broke the kiss with a growl, his gaze burning with need. “Easy, Nienna.”
I snarled, threading my fingers through his hair and yanking him back to me. His groan filled the space between us as I took control, demanding his mouth with a flurry of tongue and lips—needy, hungry.
