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Not that I even want to be his bride.

At least, that’s what I told him all those days ago.

I don’t want to be a wife or a queen. I just want to be free.

And I meant it. Gods, I meant it. I just want to be free.

But now… now there are parts of me that wonder⁠—

No.

No wondering. Just… live in the moment.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my robe. I’m dressed exactly how he asked—silk against bare skin. My nipples tighten against the fabric as I imagine precisely why he asked me to wear it.

He wants to tie me up, to fuck me while I’m restrained.

Likely as some sort of mind-blowing punishment for what happened in Thistle and Thread, for tracing the outline of his cock through his trousers, then reaching inside them and forsaking all dignity to work him until he seized up and came in his pants.

I can still hear the rasp of his breath, the quiet grunt as he bit into my palm.

Another minute goes by, and I knock on the door.

It opens immediately.

Was he waiting for me?

He grabs my wrist and jerks me into the room, slamming the door shut as he crushes his mouth against mine. It’s as if some animalistic part of him cannot stop himself from claiming me.

And, by Dagny, I want to be claimed by him.

I don’t understand it. I don’t want to understand it.

I just want… him.

More than I’ll ever admit aloud.

He pulls back, panting, “My neck… It’s not burning.”

“Probably because you’re so predictable,” I tease. “I drank some of the tonic and smeared some on my lips, hoping it’d transfer.”

“You’re so fucking good to me.” He scoops me into his arms and carries me to his bed. “Now, it’s my turn to be so fucking good to you.”

Chapter 27

RIVEN

Gwyn hands me a vial, and I don’t even hesitate before uncorking it and downing the liquid.

That’s how much I trust her.

I kick off my trousers and climb onto the bed, crawling on top of her and wedging myself between her legs.

She’s wearing exactly what I told her to—the delicate silk robe with nothing underneath.

“You take orders as well as you give them out,” I say, toying with the silken tie at her waist. Her nipples strain against the fabric, and I palm one, pinching the peak through the silk.

A sharp breath escapes her lips.