“Yes.” I forced the word past the pressure in my throat, then cleared it away. “She knows they need to become accustomed to one another. She was right to introduce them.
My focus caught on the strips of white gauze that trailed from her jaw to her neck, vanishing into her dress. My rage flared bright, and I tightened my grip on the blood-slicked dagger.
“Come,” I said. “We have more Velli to hunt.”
Nienna waited in my rooms.
My limbs felt weighted, boots dragging as I crossed the floor. Crimson coated my hands and clothes, flecked across my mantle. It wasn’t mine. It belonged to our enemies. Traitors. Velli.
I paused as Greaves shut the door behind us, some instinctive part of me still surprised to find her here, waiting. As if she’d be anywhere else.
Her gaze swept my face as she rose, smoothing her dress. “You’re filthy.”
My shoulders eased, tension loosening its grip. She didn’t question her presence in my room, seeking validation. Didn’t ask whether I wanted her here. She knew me.
After so much death, I needed her.
“Greaves.” My tone dropped flat; a king’s order threaded with a friend’s request.
Nienna glanced past me as the door clicked shut.
Two steps closed the space between us. I pulled her against me, our bodies flush. My hand slid to the back of her head, angling her mouth as I claimed it. Hard. Hungry.
She opened to me without hesitation, tongue sweeping against mine as I pushed inside, tasting her. She clutched my blood-soaked overcoat as I backed her into the sofa.
A sliver of doubt cut through the haze. I was being too rough, too demanding. She deserved better.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, and she shifted, dragging me with her, breaking the kiss only to shove me down onto the cushions. I staggered, catching myself on the backrest as she climbed over me, knees sinking in, hips settling against mine. Breath hissed through my teeth.
“Does that hurt?” She braced her hands on my shoulders, leaning back.
“You couldn’t.” My fingers dug into her thighs as I rolled my hips up into her. Pain flared—bright and exquisite. Her lips curved, and she surged forward, kissing me again.
I took her mouth the way I wanted her body, tongue clashing with hers. She tasted sweet. Like hope.
She rocked, setting a relentless pace, drawing me closer to the edge. I caught her lower lip with my teeth and settled my palm between her breasts.
“Too many clothes,” I groaned.
I needed her. Too much time had passed. Reem was secure; my vow fulfilled. The way she moved promised I wouldn’t last, and I wanted to stretch this moment thin, savor every second.
She laughed, breath warm against my cheek. “In a hurry?”
I answered by gripping her close, lifting her with me as I stood. She gasped into my mouth as my knees protested. I didn’t break the kiss as I carried her toward the bathing chamber.
Part of me wanted to take her streaked in enemy blood. But it was Velli blood. Vile and poisoned. She was worth so much more than that. She deserved effort. Cleanliness. Better still, she deserved to share it with me, to mirror the Celebration of Life and wash it away.
Her hips slid from my grasp as I released her, her boots tapping against the tiled floor. Buttons came free beneath her fingers while I yanked at the laces of her dress.
We fought fabric and fastenings, breaths sharp, sounds rough and impatient. She tugged my overcoat off, and I spun her, nearly tearing the laces loose as she braced herself on the rim of the tub, spine arching.
Desire drove through me, fierce and aching. The urge to take her then and there clouded my restraint.
A ribbon snapped beneath my fingers, and I tore it free, dragging the dress down her shoulders, skin pale and smooth asfresh cream. My arm circled her waist, hand sliding upward as she shoved the fabric lower.
Impatience made her movements clumsy. “Kallias–”
I hummed, freeing my belt while my mouth traced the space between her neck and shoulder, careful of the wound.
