I trudged up the stairs, the cool touch of tadpoles and frogs in the wrought iron offered a reprieve. The guards clattered, their armor clanging with each step.
Cold night air wrapped me in a welcome embrace. I let the door swing shut, leaving my guards behind, then dropped my boots in a careless pile. When I reached the wall, I climbed on, letting out a quiet moan as I stretched out, propping one leg up while the other dangled over the safety of the sandstone.
Every muscle in my body screamed with the effort to relax, the tension from the evening clinging to me like a second skin.
It was mere breaths before the door opened again, and I rolled my head to the side. Kallias stood, his broad frame outlined by the lantern light, casting him in shadow. I sighed, returning my gaze to the stars glittering in the black sky.
A hushed voice broke the stillness, followed by the loud clank of armor as my guards retreated. Footsteps heralded Kallias’ approach, and when he stopped, I drew in a deep breath and pushed upright.
I swung my legs inside the wall and braced my hands between my thighs, leaning forward. “Do you approve of your son’s choice of dress?”
A soft creak betrayed the tension in his fist as it tightened around the hilt of his sword. I met his gaze—dark, brooding.
Definitely the wrong thing to say.
“You had every eye on you tonight,” he rasped.
“I know I had yours,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping. The mask was slipping. I was done pretending. Exhausted from the act. If he wanted me, he’d take me at my worst—or leave. I didn’t care if it was his roof.
“You have other dresses.”
“Telling me how to dress now?” I taunted.
“I could tell you what not to wear.”
“Next time I get dressed, I’ll be sure to invite you,” I shot back, leaning against the stone. “To ensure my outfit is approved.”
“Greaves,” Kallias bit out, the name sharp as a command.
I raised an eyebrow, glancing past him. The man shifted, uncomfortable, but when our eyes met, he dipped his head and retreated into the palace. The roof felt quieter now, just the two of us.
“Why did you wear it?”
“Questions, questions,” I murmured, tipping my chin, letting my hair spill down. The movement threw off my balance. I gasped, my nails digging into the stone. Kallias closed the gap between us, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me against his chest.
“How much wine did you have?”
I smiled, fingers tracing along his sleeve. Winds and seas, the man smelled incredible. Cinnamon and spice encased him, warm and familiar, with a touch of wood and a hint of musk.
He felt good too—solid muscle beneath fine clothing, heat radiating from him. His arm around me was firm, the closeness pinning him between my legs. The position sent flaming butterflies through my core.
“A bit of advice,” I murmured, my gaze drifting over his face. “Don’t touch a man’s betrothed.”
His jaw tightened, and I watched it, intrigued. A shadow of stubble darkened his cheeks, and his lips pressed into a tight line.
My own felt dry. I ran my tongue over them, almost without thinking.
His hand twitched at my back, and I leaned away. But instead of letting me go, he tightened his hold, drawing me in closer. His belt buckle jabbed into my thigh, and his gaze followed my tongue as it slid behind my teeth.
“I don’t think you’re in any condition to sit on a roof,” he said, tugging me off the wall.
I stumbled against him—not from the wine, but because my feet had given up.
His hands steadied me at the waist, keeping me balanced—and keeping a careful distance. His dark eyes locked on mine, cutting through the night. A mix of concern and desire flickered there, the same hunger I’d seen in too many men tonight.
I reached to cup his jaw, but he shied away.
“Why do you get to touch me, but I can’t touch you?” I asked.
