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I spill out over the grassy shore and reach for my skirt and bodice.
The guard has turned back to the castle, so I have a little privacy as I dress in a hurry.
“I’m going to his chambers,” I tell her, ramming my legs into my skirt.
“Now?” Her voice hitches with a pitch of fear. “After all of that, you think it’s best to see him?”
“I think it’s best not to break any rules right now,” I say, fastening up the silky strings of the cropped bodice. “He can dismiss me, but at least I’ve done what he told me.”
I snatch up my sandals. No time to put them on.
Leaving Terry on the shore, I race up the pathway that winds uphill. My wet feet slap against the marble floors of the castle as I sprint and skid my way to the prince’s bedchambers.
I burst through the doors with a gust of breath, lakewater and sweat clinging curls to my temples. I stagger to his bedside, throwing a wild look around.
Yes. I made it here before him.
I followed the rules.
He shouldn’t want to harm me now.
Dropping my sandals to the floor, I bend down to try and stuff my feet into the tricky straps. I’ve barely managed to wiggle one foot in before the door crashes open with a bang that shudders the bedchamber.
I jolt upright, fright bolting my muscles to my bones.
Daein storms into the room, his eyes wild and crystal-clear. His gaze lands on me, blazing like white storm clouds.
I slip my foot out of the sandal slowly, then chance a bow at him.
I don’t normally bow for him in his bedchamber, but anything to ease that savage wildness he wears like a mist, I’ll try it. Especially while he’s still wearing his weapons belt.
When I straighten up, he’s storming towards me.
I back up, my wet feet slipping over marble, until the bedside table digs into my back. Reaching behind me, I grip onto it, my eyes clenching shut as I prepare myself for the strike that’s coming for me.
His hands slap onto my face and yank me against his body.
I whimper and then—
His mouth crashes down on mine.
My eyes fly open. His are closed, wrinkled with the pressure that twists his face as he crushes his lips against mine. My teeth ache, threatening to cave inwards, and all I can manage is to just stare wild-eyed at him.
To kiss is to love.
And his kiss is suffocating me.
His hands swing up for my hair. He grips the curls tightly, yanking my head back to align our faces.
I cry out against his mouth at the pain searing my scalp. He’s hurting me, he’s hating me, he’s wanting to smother me.
One hand leaves my hair and shoots for my chin. His fingers dig into the spaces between my teeth, forcing my mouth to part for him.
As he slams me up against the wall, his tongue shoves into my mouth, as angry and harsh as his kiss. His grip leaves my face, his other hand still buried in my hair, and snatches down between our bodies. He clutches onto a handful of my skirt, yanking it up.
Alarms spring to life in my body.
I squirm against him, trying to get away, trying to pull my face away from his. He wrestles my skirt higher and higher until I’m screaming against his mouth and—help me, but—my hand comes flying up and smacks him on the face.
