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I can barely breathe, and I don’t care one bit. Air isn’t what I need to live. It’s him. It’s always been him. Why did it take me so long to realize?
Riden sets me back on my feet so he can roam my body with his hands. They slide up my sides, into my hair, down my back.
This is usually the part where I talk myself out of what I’m doing. Not this time. There is no reason not to kiss Riden. There is no reason not to let him in. No reason not to trust him. He’s what I want.
I spin him around, planting him against the wall. I nip at his lips, trace them with my tongue, listen to his breathing hitch and feel his muscles tighten.
Without breaking the kiss, I start to pull him backward with me, toward my bed. I must have been moving too slowly, though, because he picks me up again and carries me the rest of the way.
He sets me down, lays himself on top of me, but the pressure of his lips never softens, never stills, and I don’t want it to.
I realize my corset is loosening. His fingers, so adept andfeatherlight, pull at the strings, slipping them from one hole after the next. When he finally gets it open, he splays his fingers across my stomach, which is now covered only by a thin blouse.
His lips leave mine. I’m about to protest when I feel them where his hands once were. They inch lower, and I feel my blouse slowly rise. I shut my eyes, awash in sensation.
Riden pauses with his lips at my navel.
And he sits up.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Get back here.”
He doesn’t look at me. Instead he starts for the door.
“Riden—”
That’s when I hear it.
Singing.
Oh hell.
Chapter 19
IGRAB RIDEN BYthe shoulder and pin his face against the nearest wall in the room.
“Riden, come out of it.”
He strains against me, swings an arm, pushes off the wall with his feet.
“Damn it, Riden. Stop!”
He jerks his head backward, connects with my nose. Blood runs down into my mouth. I wipe it off my face with my arm.
All right, that does it.
I grab the nearest sturdy object within reach, a pretty glass jar from the island of Naula that holds my hairpins.
What a shame,I think as I bring it down on his head.
It shatters, and he goes limp. I rummage through my things until I find the wax I brought for the men. I shove some into Riden’s ears before hurrying outside.
Sorinda has Kearan flat on his back, her sword pommel ready to strike again if the first hit didn’t do the trick.
“Here,” I say, tossing her the wax.
Mandsy and Niridia have Enwen’s arms pinned behind his back as he squirms against the ground. I rush over to help them get his ears covered. Deros is already unconscious on the ground near them, and Niridia approaches him next with a ball of wax.
Then that leaves—
