I spun, pressing my back against the shelves. My cape fell open, revealing the thin fabric of my nightdress beneath. His gaze roved over me, tracing every curve with a precision that stole my breath. His eyes followed the dart of my tongue as I wet my dry lips.
My breaths hitched, shallow and unsteady. The corner of his eye twitched once—twice.
For the first time, I reached for what I wanted. My trembling hands gripped his tunic and tugged. The strength in his posture wavered as he leaned closer.
“Please,” I whispered. My fingers slid to his belt, clutching the leather like a lifeline.
“Please what?” He closed the distance by a fraction, his arm trembling with restraint, the tension crackling between us like a storm about to break.
“You know.” My voice shook, an accusation heavy with longing.
Heat rolled off him in waves, his need a palpable force. “Sayit.”
His command was a blade, cutting through every ounce of hesitation I had left. This was Kallias, not some boy or mere noble. He wanted me to ask this of him. He needed to protect me, provide for me.
And I would let him.
Just once.
“Kiss me.”
The dam broke. His lips crashed to mine with a growl, his restraint snapping like a brittle twig. The shelf rattled beneath the force, books tumbling around us. His hand cupped my chin, tilting my face up as his mouth claimed mine. Sensation blazed through me—a wild, electric fire that consumed every coherent thought.
I moaned against him, my fingers twisting in his tunic as his tongue traced the seam of my lips. When I opened to him, he deepened the kiss, plunging into me with slow, deliberate intent. A heady mix of spice and heat flooded my senses. My knees buckled, but his arm at my waist held me firm.
One hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it to hook around his hip. He pressed into me, his solid frame anchoring me as more books clattered. The pressure of his leg between mine sparked something primal, and I moved against him, desperate for more. His groan vibrated through my chest, igniting a reckless need that left me gasping.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I snarled, tugging him back when he pulled away.
He chuckled against my mouth, his kiss slowing, steadying me even as my pulse hammered. With a swift motion, he grasped my thighs and hoisted me up, pinning me against the shelves. I hissed at the pleasure of him pressed against me, and threw back my head, knocking books askew and to the ground. His lips moved to my neck and I threaded my fingers through his hair, moaning against the kisses he trailed down my skin, tugging him closer.
The library door flung open.
I gasped. Kallias froze, his hands tightening around my legs as his head whipped toward the intruder. Shame burned through me as he lowered me to the floor.
Greaves stood in the doorway, closing it behind him with measured precision. His expression remained impassive, though his gaze flicked between us. He stepped aside to stand at the door, boot propped against the base to keep it from opening. With a rigid set to his posture, his hand rested on the pommel of his sword. He said nothing, only turned his attention to the far wall, ignoring us.
I had been caught in the act—kissing the king of Radaan, not the prince. Heat clawed up my throat, and my stomach twisted into a violent knot. My hands trembled uncontrollably, my legs unsteady beneath me. If Greaves spoke of this—if word spread of what I had done—the alliance would crumble. I’d bebranded a disgrace, sent back home to rot in shame. Marriage prospects would vanish, leaving me to wither away in a locked tower of regret and isolation.
Kallias’ fingers brushed against my temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His palm cupped my cheek, the faint tremor in his touch betraying the composure on his face. Tears blurred the world, but I could still see the tight line of his jaw, the frustration hardening his features. Without a word, he turned, each step deliberate and heavy with unspoken meaning. He reached the door, yanked it open, and strode into the hallway. The echo of his retreating footsteps filled the silence.
Greaves hesitated. His unreadable gaze flicked to mine, offering a subtle shake of his head before he followed the king, his boots clicking softly on the floorboards.
The door thudded shut.
I stood amidst the chaos—books scattered like broken promises—and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold together the pieces of my unraveling world. My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, the hard edges of fallen tomes pressing into my thighs.
What had I done?
My lips still tingled, a bittersweet ache.
My firstrealkiss, and I’d given it to the wrong man. Again.
Chapter Eighteen
Kallias
Iwas more alert now than when I’d left my quarters, guilt clawing like a jagged hook in my chest. Greaves hurried to keep pace behind me, his boots a faint echo in the corridor. The roof called to me with its cold silence and the promise of solitude, but I pushed the thought aside. Like a wounded animal, I craved the dark comfort of my own space to tend to my wounds.
