Page 113 of Black Sea

I allowed myself to grin, too, because I cheated and used my elven strength to wrench out of his grasp.

Or at least, I thought I had.

With the skill of a puppeteer, Amlach spun me around and tugged my hair, pulling me to him with such impetuosity that I groaned as our bodies collided. His other hand moved forcefully from my breast to my lower abdomen, causing me to pant.

After that, I completely surrendered to him.

And he made every part of me sing, playing me like a dark violin, maneuvering me as if I were a doll at his mercy. Each sensual motion heightened the percussion’s rhythm. Amlach commanded me, and every fiber of my being obeyed him desperately, craving his erotic touch. I felt myself drowning in the twisted melody his gaze created within me.

Near the chorus, Amlach cupped my chin, pressing his fingers into my cheeks so hard that I reflexively clawed at his wrist with both hands. A moan escaped me, and he immediately leaned toward my lips, sucking the sound into his mouth. Then he sharply tilted my head to the side, and his breath in my ear sent a shiver down my spine.

“Claim me,” he ordered in a whisper.

Those words joined the Rise up from my soul, creating a vortex of scratchy darkness that took hold of me.

And before Amlach could stop me, I pulled his hand away from my face and leaped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips. He pressed his fingers into my bare shoulder blades, sliding down to the edge of my neckline, as if he intended to tear my dress off. I ran my hands through the hair on the back of his head, being careful not to expose his ears.

The second chorus arrived, and I leaned backward with my bust, letting my arms hang in the void as Amlach spun faster and faster, encouraged by the singers’ high-pitched voices.

I closed my eyes, fully trusting he would never drop me, enjoying the firm pressure of his fingers on the sides of my torso.

Suddenly, he slowed to a stop and slid one hand between my breasts to grasp my throat. He lifted me with a deliberate, exasperating, tremendously arousing slowness.

I returned with my feet on the floor and, just as slowly, while the soloist repeated the first verse, I removed Amlach’s fingers from my neck and pressed my palm against his. For some inexplicable reason, that contact felt even more voluptuous to me as we moved in a circle.

My eyes were in his. His eyes were in mine.

He was in all my feelings and in my blood and in every thought of mine and in my maddened heart and in the oxygen I breathed.

He was everything.

The music faded gradually as the singers’ voices diminished, and Amlach held my hand while I bent my knees into a deep curtsy, with my skirt fully spread out around me.

I expected to hear a round of applause that would shake the glass ceilings, given how intense our dance had been.

Instead, there was only silence.

Little by little, the euphoria from the dance faded from my flushed face, and I felt as if I were being lashed by a cold gust that abruptly brought me back to reality.

A reality where every single elf in the room was staring at me in horror.

As my breath grew increasingly shallow and my eyes started to burn, I gazed at my family. Araton and my mother looked so sorrowful that it clenched my heart in a vice.

But when I met Father’s eyes, the unspeakable wrath I saw sailing in them annihilated me.

The next moment, I dashed out of the hall.

67

How could I let that happen? Dancing so indecently in front of my subjects . . . Letting myself be touched like a human slut in front of my relatives . . . Embarrassing my parents and Araton with my noises of arousal . . .

Disappointing my father in front of the entire court like that.

All for Amlach.

How could I be so selfish? How could I put my obscene desire ahead of my duty to my people?

I was not worthy of being the heir to the throne.