She nods her agreement, mimicking sliding a wedding ring off her finger and dropping it to the floor. She’s lost her mind. “We need a divorce, Rexxan. I can’t do this anymore. So what is that woman to you? Your favourite person?"
Gods, she genuinely does not shut up. "And you care because?"
"I want to get to know you. The real you, not the King."
As I thread a chain through the bars of her cage, I pause for a moment. It has been a long time since anyone has said that to me. In fact, I don’t think anyone has. I let out a cold laugh because the real me is buried so deep beneath the King that I’m not sure he’s even there anymore.
"You don't. There's always another reason for you. You’re always scheming. But if you really wish to know, my son is my favourite person, sweetheart."
"You're a father?" She looks stunned, and it’s nice to be the one shocking her rather than the other way around.
"It's the only job I prioritise over being King."
"How old is he?"
"About seven hundred.”
“Wow. That’s old.” She frowns, and I see her running the numbers in her head, realising that I had my son when I was the Evergreen equivalent of a teenager.
“You had him so young. Where is he now?"
"I'm not talking to you. I'm not interested in getting to know you." That's a lie. I want to know everything about her. "And I'm not interested in you knowing anything about me or my son. You harm my guards, I'll punish you. You don't learn? I'll kill your brother. I mean it."
"How long will you keep me in here for?"
"However long it takes."
"I have to return to my people this month."
"You didn't think about that before you—“
"I'm sorry!" She protests, her eyes going big and childlike. She’s manipulative, dangerous one minute, and innocent the next. "Free Onyx and Stellan. Please? Please, please, please, please, please, please—“
"Fucking hell, I'll think about it." And since when had I been so soft? I allow myself a long, lazy look down her body. She’s athletic, with a small waist that gives way to the gentle curve of her hips and strong, toned thighs. Her top is low cut, revealing miles of tanned skin. She smells the same as the day I met her, like roses and honey.
"Want to try again and be a little more subtle?” She asks, once my gaze lands back on her eyes.
"Not particularly, no." What in the name of all that is holy am I doing? For someone with famous self-control, I’m not doing a good job of it now. But I need to touch her. I tuck some hair behind her ear, her gaze locked on mine. She is quiet for once, brown eyes looking up at me.
"Don't look at me like that," she whispers, but she leans in closer to me, her tongue darting out to her lower lip for a split second.
"I'm not looking at you like anything," I reply, my hand snaking up her waist. I have a terrible feeling that now I know what it is to have my hands on her, once will never be enough. I run a gentle hand over her throat, watching goosebumps rise on her beautiful skin.
The air is so thick with desire that I could pierce it with a knife. Long black eyelashes flutter shut, her head tipping back. Something about that action has me aching with want for her. I want to show her what I could do to her, to help her find her limits for pleasure and pain. To give her an outlet for this pent-up energy that is overflowing from her every vein. I want to bask in the Shadow Commander and all the sacred air around her.
"I could drive you insane, Renna," I murmur, my fingers running down her waist on the other side now. "I could make you forget everything else."
She says nothing in return, but her body presses further into mine, her chest rising and falling a little harder now.
"Why can't you behave?"
She sighs, her head dropping forward in defeat, and the moment is lost. I step back, and cold air whooshes in to replace the scorching heat between us.
"I'm working on it."
"That's not an answer."
"I had an unconventional childhood."
