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None of this made any sense. Arin’s behavior was not how I’d imagined, or been told, in his absence. The Prince of Love was kind and caring, everyone had assured me, since I’d asked in the absence of meeting the man for myself. He certainly did not beat his court fools and then bathe with them afterward.
He disturbed the water. It sloshed against my chest. Did he want to see the evidence of his beating, was that why he was here?
“What if I am?” he asked, gliding into sight and resting himself against the opposite side of the pool. He reached back and pulled the tie holding his hair free, then gave his head a shake, spilling golden locks to his shoulders, exactly how I’d imagined.
By Dallin, the man was made of honey and sunlight and was far too pretty.
He gazed back, waiting for me to speak. I’d forgotten what we’d been discussing—something about him watching me? He waited patiently for the answer, blinking slowly, but I’d lost my voice.
He raised a wet hand and swept his fingers through his hair, upsetting its perfect gleam, leaving darker, damp streaks behind.
I swallowed, doing nothing to smooth my throat’s tightness. “I fear your arrival has rendered me speechless.”
There was that little tease of a smile again, and despite the pain he’d dealt me, or perhaps because of it, delicate tendrils of lust shivered down my spine. His being here alone, that new, teasing smile, and how he’d stripped off his layers of royalty, leaving them outside the pool… This was a side of Arin I hadn’t seen—unsurprising since I hadn’t witnessed much of the prince. But the beating, and now this… I sensed he might be trying to manipulate me for reasons yet unknown. The Riddle of the Prince Behind the Door had just become more fascinating. And alluring.
“I know you are not as dimwitted as you would seem in this moment,” he said. “So allow me to be clear. We are not so different, you and I.”
That was anything but clear. “How so?”
“We’ll come to that, but first, tell me of Draven.”
“Draven?” My thoughts stuttered. He couldn’t know I’d seen the attack, or the aftermath of it. Could he? Did he think me responsible? “Draven…?” I attempted to shrug and deny I knew the lord.
“Lie to me, and our little tête-à-tête is over.”
I wanted this to end, didn’t I? He had me tied in knots, Ishouldwant this to be over, but as I stood in the warm waters, the prince within reach of my fingertips, I’d rarely been more exposed. And aroused. Blood thrummed through my veins, and my cock was halfway to revealing exactly how stimulating Prince Arin’s company was.
“We met at the ball, Draven and I,” I said. “I know little of the man, just that he has an appetite for the male form.”
Arin’s gaze skipped over my face. I suspected he didn’t believe me. “He asked for an audience with me, to speak to me regarding my fool. Why do you think that is?”
Had Draven thought to tell Arin all he knew?You’re the traitor’s son. I hadn’t been sure, until now.“I cannot fathom. Perhaps ask him?”
“Yes, well, I would, but the attack left him speechless.” Arin peered through golden lashes, and that glare burrowed inside, beneath all my many layers. “As you well know, Lark.”
A second thrill surged through me, conspiring with the thrill and fear of his alarming arrival.
The assailant leaning over Draven, the twig in the prince’s cloak—the same plant that made up the hedge maze. I’d been blind not to see it before. He’d been hooded and masked, but I’d seen his eyes, both beautiful and haunting. His gait when he’d run, fast, light, and how he’d known how to vanish inside the hedge maze.
It all pointed to one fact.
Arin had attacked Draven.
He’d cut his throat, almost killed him. Would have, if I hadn’t interrupted.
My heart thumped harder, quickening my breaths. This was not how a Prince of Love should behave.
Arin’s hint of a smile grew. He pushed from the side of the pool and within two steps, he stood close enough to fill my vision. Water dripped from his damp hair, over eyes sparkling with intelligence. He waited. I imagined the throb of his heat washing over me. If he shifted another inch closer, and he’d feel exactly how hard I was for him.
Prince Arin knew a whole lot more about me and his court than I’d thought possible. And right then, he had me in his grasp. I had to do something to trip him up, knock him off his stride and give myself room to think and breathe around him.
“What was it about you Lord Draven wished to discuss, Lark?” Arin asked.
It seemed he did not get the answers he’d hoped for before trying to kill Lord Draven. And now, I was under his scrutiny. Was that why he was here, to cut my throat too? I didn’t see a knife, but I hadn’t seen one when he’d knelt over Draven either.
“How are we alike, Prince?” I raised my hand from the water, fingers curled beside his cheek—not yet touching. Would he strike me again, if I did? As he blinked, dislodging droplets of water from his lashes, I dared touch his temple—so warm—and skimmed my fingers down his face, under his jaw, following its fine line. I’d expected him to stop me, but he hadn’t moved, and now the natural bow of his mouth drew my fingertips toward them.
By Dallin, his lips were peach-soft.
