Page 21 of Taken By the Crab King of Atlantis

I look up from my churning thoughts and my heart stops.

Yen’s no longer wearing the makeup my people had tried to use to improve her features, and her hair is different — simple and framing a face that has never needed improvement. Her shoulders are firmly back as she approaches the table, and the soft curves in her form-fitted dress are in full three dimensions.

She looks more like the images of her I saw on social media — poised, calm, accomplished. Part of me wants to see her undone as she was in my office earlier today, but the rest of me is glad. This is the reason for having her here for two nights, and having her out with me to see the city. If she crumbles under the impact of formal events, she would never enjoy being queen.

The room’s eyes turn, and a surge of pride and protectiveness rises in my chest. My people won’t harm her, but in the throes of the bond that’s hard to remember. I want her alone. The desire to claim her is fierce.

I push it down with force. But I remember this morning how her body reached for me, and mine reached for hers in return. When the time is right, I will have her, but meanwhile, I must convince her to stay.

I stand as she approaches, remembering to breathe again.

“Hello,” she says with a small smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s the only sign of her uncertainty.

“Hi,” I echo. There’s no artifice in her, and no need for her to pretend. The edge of excitement I catch underneath her shyness is real. When was the last time I interacted with someone so genuine, apart from Marina?

“Oh…” I move to pull out her chair, and she steps back to let me.

Without being asked, the waiter brings over a glass of wine for her and a bowl of bread for us both.

“I hope you drink red,” I say.

“Yes.” She takes a sip. Her eyes widen.

“It’s a pinot noir they serve in your family’s restaurant. I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

“It’s my favorite.”

“I know.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I see my mistake. “I mean… I saw it advertised on your family restaurant’s social media pages, and you shared it once and said it was your favorite.”

“You read my social media?” Her tone is incredulous, and she stares at me. This morning I wished she would meet my eyes, but now I'm uneasy under her gaze. She’s different from how she was in my office. She’s found her feet in this situation, and I’m the one stumbling.

“We run background checks,” I say smoothly, but I can’t stop the heat rising to my face, so I side-step. “I… apologize for the length of your stay. I recognize that most sacrifices only require one night.”

“But your situation is different,” she nods, sipping her wine. Her tone is careful, her gaze considering. I try not to notice the moisture on her lips when she sets the glass down.

“Correct.”

Behind Yen, a man with blue hair and a royal Oceania sash stands and approaches our table. I’ve never met him, but I know of him — Corvin, Oceania's diplomatic liaison. My eyes narrow, and I catch the eye of a nearby porter who is ready for this situation, and the porter intercepts the man before he can approach.

Yen catches the exchange, and the whispered argument behind us. Her head turns slightly and her expression is considering. She looks at me with a question in her eyes.

“I have asked that the formalities wait until after our main course,” I explain. “I’m sorry in advance for the imposition.”

“Thank you for trying to make me feel comfortable. This is a new situation for me, but I want to assure you, I will do my part in the time I’m here.”

She meets my gaze and a waft of jasmine floats across the table. It’s both a soothing relief and a distress. I cannot forget there is a room full of people watching us. That’s another reason for the public nature of this meeting.

“Thank you,” I say, settling back with my wine into some distance. I notice she hasn’t touched the bread. “Please help yourself.”

“Oh no,” she demurs. “I’m happy to wait for the main course.” She puts a hand on her stomach self-consciously, and I think about the way she pulled her short skirt down this morning.

“You look exquisite in that dress,” I say. “And I like your new hair.”

She smiles, pleased. “Thank you for the styling. I hope I look the part.”

I frown. “You did not need improving. You already looked the part.” She flushes at this, averting her gaze downward. I enjoy affecting her, but I want her to meet my eyes. “Your journey to Atlantis was comfortable?”

“Oh yes! It was wonderful.”