“You don’t know what you’re doing. The wine’s talking.”
It hit me like cold water. I stepped back, the sudden clarity grounding me. Drawing from a strength I didn’t realize I had, I met his gaze with a cutting stare. “I know exactly what I’m doing—what I crave. But I don’t thinkyoudo.”
“I came here to make sure no stray nobleman pursued you.” He lifted his chin, arms crossing over his chest. “Every man in that room watched you. They’re not all honorable.”
“And your eyes never left me. You hovered, watching every conversation, waiting to intervene if needed. You followed me up here. Yet, you push me away. You’d think by running a kingdom you’d know how to get what you want!”
“I can’t have what I want.”
I recoiled, snapping my mouth shut. He ground his teeth together and glared at me, offering no more. His nostrils flared with his breaths, chest heaving—his mask long gone.
I swallowed, my words dry and cracked. “You came after me tonight. You sought me out. Yet you push me away.”
He said nothing. His piercing blue gaze drifted over me, scanning my dress, tracing every curve. It sparked something deep inside—a fire that grew from ember to full blaze. Ravenous. He took in my ample hips, then traveled along my waist, lingering at my chest. I made no move to shield myself, refusing to cross my arms. His eyes climbed higher, pausing at my mouth, and stayed there.
His gaze burned into my skin, each look a touch, slow and deliberate, sending heat crawling across my flesh. I bit my lip. A muscle flickered in his jaw as he studied me.
“Sea beneath,” I whispered. “You cannot have what you want.”
My mind screamed—this wasn’t right. He couldn’t mean it. When his eyes locked with mine, theyburned.
Gods, to be viewed like that. To be seen as something worth claiming, devouring. Yet he held himself back, tethering that hunger, forcing restraint.
I wanted him to lose that control.
Tallon never looked at me that way. Never would.
“You are my son’sbetrothed.” Each word dragged from him, heavy and reluctant. I was off limits. The blood oath bound me to the prince. If we crossed that line—if Ilethim—the alliance would crumble.
Radaan’s fragile peace would splinter. His lands would face war again, and my dragons wouldn’t come unless they came to destroy. The people’s faith in him would wither, blaming him for a broken treaty.
“And you are the father of my betrothed.” The words scraped from my dry throat, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Saying it didn’t quell the blaze rolling through me. I swallowed, and propped a hand on my hip as I studied him.
His snug overcoat buttoned over a pristine white tunic. The neckline had loosened, the fabric tugged as though he’d yanked at it to breathe. The gold chains of his mantle glinted in the starlight, draped over his broad chest. His arms remained crossed, but the strain on the seams of his sleeves told a different story, as if the tension in his muscles threatened to burst through.
The coat narrowed at his trim waist, hinting at the power concealed beneath. A dark leather belt, fastened with a gleaming gold buckle, rested against black trousers tailored to perfection. The fabric hugged his thighs, muscular and solid, commanding my gaze until I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from staring too long.
Those thighs alone could ruin me.
Dark boots wrapped his calves, buckles gleaming. Even here in the palace, where fashion dictated concealment, he tucked his pants into his boots like a soldier—unyielding, vigilant.
My gaze traveled upward, absorbing every detail as if I were committing a masterpiece to memory. When my eyes met his face again, his hand shifted, thumb hooking into his belt with an easy confidence that sent a flush crawling up my neck.
“Like what you see?” he asked, voice husky and low.
I’d seen handsome men before, from the polished nobles with their aristocratic features to the unyielding strength of the Spire’s warriors. Yet Kallias eclipsed them all—a league of his own.
His glacier-blue eyes held mine, a storm of restraint and yearning. I had to leave. To stay any longer would push us both to the edge. He was far too disciplined to act on his desires. A king couldn’t always have what he coveted.
“I don’t justlikeit,” I breathed, not daring myself to raise my voice. “I burn for it.”
His breath hitched, sharp and audible, as if I struck him. The fire in his eyes flared brighter.
Then I ran.
Like a child fleeing from ridicule or punishment, I fled into the palace. I didn’t look back, refused to meet his searing gaze again. Greaves stood sentinel near the door, an immovable shadow as I swept past him and down the stairs.The quiet corridors offered no solace, only the soft echo of my steps as I jogged, my heartbeat a frantic drumbeat in my ears.
I was no lovesick girl. I was a grown woman who’d said too much. Yet it wasn’t just my mistake—his words fanned the flames too.
