Page 61 of Hunger & Harmony

“What is . . .?”

“A piece of my heart.”

He crouches down, kneeling between my legs. My fingers find the pendant, smoothing my thumb over it as I stare at him.

“You’re giving it to me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“It took me too long to realize it’s always been yours.”

We shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this.

When he rests his arm on my thigh, propping himself up and getting comfortable, all of my protests crumble. It’s like he’s always been here. Like he always will be.

My spare hand reaches down to him, and I dare to let a single finger trace along the vermillion scorpion. He doesn’t stiffen. He’s completely relaxed as I drag my fingertip along the shape of it.

Maybe this isn’t a good cool-down from our almost kiss, but I need a distraction.

“Because you’re a Scorpio?” I ask, and he nods. “What about the other two?”

In greater detail, I see the obsidian crescent on his inner forearm is equal parts swords, stars, and thorns. There are four of each, forming the fine line moon.

“The moon was a waxing crescent when I became king,” he explains, eyes focused on me. “The number four represents stability and order. I hang onto that, even if my coronation was marked by conflict. I wanted an equal number of stars, too. It felt right.”

Though it’s only one tattoo, it tells a complete story. Maybe I don’t have the right to his past, but I want to know. My body is just as responsive to him as my heart is.

“And the sun?”

Sorrow dampens his smile. I immediately regret my question, but he’s quick to speak when I frown.

“My mother,” he says. “She requested her punishment be in the warmth of sunlight.”

He’s letting me in. There’s no resistance or hiding, and I fear I’m becoming sunlight myself. Will I be his downfall?

This isn’t a mistake because it’s difficult.

It’s too easy. It’s too good.

“I don’t have many tattoos,” he says. “They have to mean something.”

“That makes sense. I’d do the same if I ever get any.”

He hums, and I let my fingers wander. They end up in his hair, and despite how close this is, I’m not burning up. It’s the warmth of understanding and familiarity in my heart as he leans into my palm. Which is worse. So much worse.

I let my other hand drop from the pendant. It hums against my sternum, like it’s one with my heartbeat.

Seeming to sense my worries, Niko turns to kiss my inner wrist. Waves of tingles shoot up my arm, and he follows the path, his lips caressing my flushed skin in a trail of pecks. The faint graze of his fangs accompanies every few kisses.

“Y-Your Majesty,” I gasp.

“Hey.”

He stops, both when the fabric gets in his way and when I say that. After climbing back up my body, we’re eye-to-eye. The diffused lighting in this room can’t compare to his gaze.

“What did I say before?”

I swallow. He leans in.

“To call you by your name.”