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“You hate it,” he said, dropping his head back. “I knew you would. This is a terrible idea.”
“No, I don’t hate it. It’s just different.”
He eyed me, still standing in the spot by the door, and his smile slowly grew. “I recall another bath, larger than this one. We shared it, briefly.” He shifted, sloshing water, folded his arm over the edge of the bathtub, and propped his chin onto it. Only his shoulders were exposed above the bath’s edge, but I had no trouble remembering the rest of his body from our night in my bed. He had muscle enough to wrestle me beneath his blade in his bedchamber. The memory was a fond one, strangely.
Water dripped from his fingers, leaving damp splashes on the timber floor. His every slow blink, every lazy glance, tempted me closer, and he knew it. “That bath was the first time I wondered if there was more to you than a prince with a stick up his ass. You seemed more real then than at any other time since we’d met.”
“Until the cove.”
“Until the cove,” he agreed. “The Prince of Many Faces.”
“I couldn’t maintain my act around you—didn’t want to.”
“I know that now. At the time, however, I’d assumed you’d come to see the damage your muscle-men had inflicted during your beating.”
I looked away. By Dallin, I’d hated having to do that. “I’d been trying to make our rift believable.”
He waved my words away. “I merely brought it up to make it clear the beating did little to temper my feelings for you. If anything, it strengthened them.”
He’dlikedthe beating? Was that a good thing? He fluttered his lashes, so smug and innocent at the same time. “You have feelings for me?” I asked.
“No, you’re a vicious liar, a terrible juggler, and awfully ugly.” His smile twitched. “I suppose you think me a true fool, hm? But surprisingly, even villains have hearts, and mine is somewhat bruised and beaten. But it knows it’s wants.”
My own heart thumped a little too loudly. What was he saying? “You’re not a villain, Lark.”
“I will be, if we’re to execute your plan.”
And with his hair cut short, his face more angular for it, I was already beginning to see the change in him. It would only be for a few days, but he would have to play the part of Razak flawlessly, including all that entailed. There was no doubt he could do it. But he feared it too.
Was all of this worth it? What if we ran back to the Court of Love and made something of a life among the rubble? But neither of us would be able to rest, knowing all we did, knowing Razak unrestrained would see countless dead and we could have stopped him.
“Arin.” His tone had darkened, turned harsh. I’d heard it this way before, when he’d held a knife to my throat and threatened to fuck me. It sent a fluttering trill down my back and sizzled lust through my veins. I liked it.
“Yes, Lark?”
“Come here.” He still rested his chin on his arm, was still submerged. Nothing had changed, only his voice.
I swallowed, or tried to, and started forward.
“Stop.”
I stopped. What game was this now?
“So obedient,” he purred. “A natural submissive.”
I’d heard the term. Although I hadn’t been the most adventurous when it came to the pleasures of my court, I’d observed from afar. Submissive appeared to be the partner who bowed to their dominator. And he was wrong.
“Don’t be offended,” he said. “Being submissive does not translate to being weak.” He leaned back in the tub, sloshing water over its sides while allowing me a tantalizing view of his pale chest. His tiny scars were barely visible in the orange-hued lamplight.
He stretched both arms along the back of the tub, his attitude very different to the previous time we’d shared a bath. Then, he’d been guarded and suspicious—mostly my doing, as he’d had no idea who I was. But now, we knew each other, knew who we really were. I’d wanted him then, but it had been a shallow, physical need. Here, now, everything I felt for him ran far deeper, ran into my veins, wove through my blood, and beat through my heart.
I approached the tub and pulled off my jacket, flinging it aside, then started at my shirt, only to pause as I realized the tub wasn’t large enough for two.
Lark’s smirk had grown, knowing I’d faltered. “Now what are you going to do?”
“You can’t stay in there all night.” I spied a chair by the window and, resuming unbuttoning my shirt, I sat and waited, letting the shirt hang open. For some reason, anger had joined the gamut of emotions spinning inside me. He did this to me, made me crazy. I didn’t even knowwhyI was angry. Perhaps because this was his game, and I didn’t know the rules.
“You’re right.” He plunged his hands underwater, swept them back through his hair again, and stood.
