Split or Swallow

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Tem had never experienced a mental attack like this before. It came at her from all sides, piercing every part of her brain and shredding her mind with brutal insistence. Beside her, she heard Caspen cry out, and she knew he was experiencing a similar assault.

Fools. Both of you.

The voice belonged to Rowe.

He was shrouded in smoke—Tem saw only a bright flash of something sharp before Caspen let out a strangled grunt of pain, his hands clasping his neck. Deep crimson blood seeped between his fingers.

“ Caspen! ” she cried.

Rowe’s presence surged into Tem’s mind, crushing her with excruciating force. She tried to slam the door shut between them—to cut off the corridor that allowed him access to her. But Rowe was far too strong. He’d had centuries more practice wielding the gifts granted to basilisks. Tem fell to her knees, surrendering to the assault.

Caspen’s voice came to her then, tight with agony:

Transition, Tem. Do it now.

But Tem couldn’t. She was too new—and in too much pain—Rowe’s mental attack was crippling her, cutting off her ability to access the power Caspen had only recently taught her to wield.

It hurts, Caspen.

I know, Tem.

Panic clenched her chest. Caspen’s voice was faint, as if he were far away. Rowe’s attack had caught him off guard, and now they were both vulnerable. Tem reached for him, trying to pull him closer.

A hand grabbed her. But it wasn’t Caspen’s.

Stupid girl. Filthy blunt. Did you think there would be no consequences for your actions?

Tem couldn’t answer. There was no point in doing so anyway. Rowe’s grip on her tightened, his fingers twisting the skin around her wrist.

You little slut.

It was the same thing Jonathan had called her—the time-honored insult men threw at women they could not control.

Tem’s back hit the hard stone floor as Rowe cast her violently aside. A moment later, Caspen’s body crashed to the ground next to her. She turned her head to look at him, her heart nearly stopping at what she saw. Blood poured from the wound on his neck, dripping down his chest in horrible streaks. He wasn’t healing himself. Perhaps he couldn’t.

She’d never seen Caspen like this before—broken and in pain. Tem had watched many animals die on the farm. She knew what it looked like when someone was past the point of no return.

“Caspen,” she whispered with what was left of her voice, “ Crest me.”

No.

The word was thunder in her mind.

Yes, she insisted. It’s the only way.

I would rather die.

Well. I’d rather you didn’t.

Rowe was coming closer.

If I crest you, everything will change between us.

Nothing will change between us. I’ll still love you, and you’ll still love me.

His blood was seeping onto the stone floor.

Our relationship as it is now will be forfeit.

Only if you decide it is.

You will be bound to me. You will —

I know what will happen. I remember everything you said. But you need power, and I can give it to you. It’s the only way.

Caspen’s eyes fluttered shut.

I will not take your agency from you, Tem.

Even if I’m asking you to?

It will corrupt your very nature. You are not meant to be tamed.

I’m a Hybreed. I’ll be fine.

You do not know that. It could kill you.

Rowe had reached them. His face stretched in a maniacal grin as he leaned forward, extending his hands. Time had run out, and they both knew it. Perhaps the crest would kill her. Perhaps it would enslave her. But if Caspen did nothing, Rowe would kill them both.

Caspen’s voice was barely a whisper in her mind:

I never wanted this for you.

Tem sent her next thought with everything she had left:

I’ve only ever wanted you.

Slowly, Caspen opened his eyes. He raised his hand, wrapping his bloody fingers around Tem’s throat.

You should only know pleasure.

She finished the line:

Never pain.

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then something inside Tem erupted, slamming into her from all directions with more force than she could comprehend.

She couldn’t take it. She needed more.

She wanted it to stop. She would die if it did.

It was pain. It was pleasure.

It was everything.

There was no beginning and no end. The sensation bloomed from deep within her core to the tips of her fingers in a relentless snap of utter clarity. It was like being submerged in a perfectly warm bath—like floating in the world’s stillest lake. Nothing could penetrate the warm numbness that enveloped her entire body. She had no problems, no worries. There was nothing and no one that could cause her harm. There was only utter and complete ecstasy.

Caspen’s eyes flew open.

They were blacker than the night itself, endless pits of darkness that bore into Tem like knives. The wound on his neck was rapidly healing, stitching itself togeth?er as if it were never there to begin with. A deadly smile twisted Caspen’s lips. As if in a trance, he stood to face Rowe, who opened his mouth, but never got the chance to speak.

Instead, Caspen flicked his fingers—the gesture so casual Tem almost didn’t catch it—and Rowe’s back arched as if someone had snapped his spine in half. Tem wondered if that was exactly what had happened. Rowe fell to the floor, his face contorting as he screamed.

It was horrific. But Tem felt only bliss.

Caspen stepped forward and knelt over Rowe’s mangled body. His fingers still dripped blood as he grabbed Rowe’s neck and began to squeeze. Smoke rose from Caspen’s shoulders, curling up the curved walls of the passageway.

Through the haze of Tem’s rapture, her brain was trying to tell her something. She attempted to listen, pushing aside the waves of delirium the crest had given her, trying desperately to part the waters of her mind. Finally, a thought formed.

She tried to stand, but couldn’t. Instead she crawled to Caspen, touching his shoulder and immediately recoiling. His skin was white hot—it scalded her so sharply that the pain cut through the effects of the crest , delivering her firmly back to reality. She tried to reach for him with her mind:

Caspen.

He didn’t answer. His mind was closed off to her, surrounded by impenetrable walls of flame. She spoke aloud instead:

“Caspen.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. He didn’t look at her.

“Stop,” she said, the word barely audible. Rowe’s fingernails were clawing at the back of Caspen’s hands, drawing more blood.

“Caspen,” she said again, louder this time. “Please stop.”

He looked at her, and she flinched at the intensity of his gaze.

“Why should I?” he growled. His voice was barely human.

“If you kill him, the Senecas will go to war with the Drakons. Your family, Caspen.”

Rowe was choking. Caspen’s grip tightened.

“He deserves to die.”

Tem pulled on Caspen’s arms with all her might, ignoring the unbearable heat of his skin. It was like pulling on molten stone.

“Do your siblings deserve to die too?” she wracked her memory for the names he’d told her so long ago. “Apollo, Agnes, Cypress—Damon? What about them?”

Caspen closed his eyes. Rowe’s were wide open, staring up at Tem with paramount hatred.

“You said there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your family,” she continued. “So do this.”

“Do not use my words against me.”

“You’re the one who said them.”

Her breath was a helpless rush. Smoke was filling her lungs.

“Please, Caspen. Have mercy.”

It was the second time she’d asked him for that. He hadn’t granted it the first time.

“Do not force me to be something I am not, Tem!”

The words were a roar. He said them with such vitriol—such loathing— that Tem knew there was no going back from this. It was one thing for Tem to ask him to spare a human life. It was quite another to beg for Rowe’s—Caspen’s enemy—someone who had done nothing but try to hurt them both.

Rowe was no longer struggling. Time was running out.

“ He isn’t worth it ,” she cried.

Caspen let out a noise that made it clear he didn’t agree. But Tem couldn’t let Caspen kill Rowe. It would mean war—it would mean a target on Caspen’s back, and by extension, a target on Leo’s. And it would all be because of her. She could?n’t have any more deaths on her hands.

Not even Rowe’s.

“Be merciful,” Tem whispered. “Please. For me.”

For a moment Caspen didn’t relinquish his grip.

Then came a deadly whisper:

“There is nothing I would not do for you, Tem.”

Finally, he released Rowe, who let out a sputtering cough as he grasped at his own throat. Caspen sneered down at him in disgust before looking straight at Tem.

“This is the only time you will get mercy from me. Do you understand?”

Tem nodded because she couldn’t do anything else. She understood that she had asked too much—that she had forced Caspen to go against his instincts—that he had compromised himself for her.

“I understand.”

Caspen looked at her for a long moment before his expression softened. He touched her throat again—gently this time—and concern returned to his face. It was like watching the sun slowly set.

“Are you in any pain?” he asked.

Tem tried to answer him, but found that she couldn’t. She felt lightheaded, as if she might faint.

A moment later, she did.

...

“Will she live?”

Caspen’s words came to her through a fog. Tem was somewhere warm, a soft pillow beneath her head. Caspen’s chambers. She was conscious, but she couldn’t seem to move.

“She is breathing. Beyond that, I do not know.”

The second voice belonged to Adelaide. Some vague part of Tem was distantly jealous.

“What can be done?”Caspen whispered.

“Nothing,” Adelaide said just as quietly. “We must wait.”

Caspen’s voice turned suddenly sharp.

“If you are lying to me—if this is some pathetic , jealous ploy to take her place, I will—”

“I would never stoop so low,” Adelaide snapped, and Caspen fell silent. A second passed. She continued quietly: “I do not wish to prolong your pain, Caspenon. This clearly wounds you. If I had a solution, I would readily give it.”

Tem opened her eyes.

Caspen was the first thing she saw. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed in worry. Rowe’s blood, as well as his own, was drying on his body. Adelaide was leaning against the wall, watching them with her arms crossed. She was naked, and Tem tried not to look at her infuriatingly perfect breasts.

“Tem,” Caspen leaned forward, and Tem flinched. He retreated, concern flashing across his face. “How do you feel?”

What a question. Unanswerable, really.Tem asked a question of her own:

“What’s she doing here?”

Adelaide snorted.

“I should be the least of your concerns.”

Tem sat up. “I decide my concerns.”

“Tem,” Caspen leaned forward again, and this time she let him. “Adelaide is here because the last known Hybreed belonged to the Seneca quiver. She has some knowledge of your condition.”

Tem looked at Adelaide, who was looking at her.

“You… have met someone like me before?”

Adelaide shook her head. “No. But my family has.”

A thousand questions came to Tem’s lips—too many to ask. She started with:

“Did it work?”

Adelaide blinked. “Did what work?”

“The crest. I mean, am I…?”

Tem looked to Caspen for guidance.

“Are you bound to me?” he finished.

Tem nodded.

“I do not know,” Caspen cast a glance at Adelaide. “Is she?”

Adelaide shrugged.

“How should I know? Give her an order and find out.”

Caspen’s eyebrows shot up, then knit together.

“Yes,” Tem said, sitting up fully. “Good idea. Give me an order, Caspen.”

Caspen glanced between the two women, who were both staring at him expectantly.

“What sort of order shall I give you?”

“Anything. But make it something I wouldn’t want to do.”

Caspen’s mouth twitched.Tem rolled her eyes.

“And don’t you dare be cruel about it. I swear to Kora if you—”

“Stop talking, Tem.”

For half a heartbeat, there was silence. Then Tem said easily:

“Rude.”

Adelaide clapped her hands together.

“Good. Now if you will excuse me, I must—”

“Wait,” Tem said. “What else do you know about Hybreeds?”

Adelaide hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Caspen, who nodded.

“Humans with basilisk blood are rare,” she said slowly. “Extremely so. Your existence is…an anomaly.”

“What does that mean?”

“The two halves of you are paradoxical,” Adelaide explained. “Your basilisk side is a predator, while your human side is prey.”

Tem frowned. “I don’t understand. Are you saying my body is trying to kill itself?”

Adelaide shook her head.

“The opposite. You carry the balance of nature within you. It is an extremely powerful thing.”

Tem was reeling from this information. She had to know more.

“How powerful?”

Adelaide paused, tilting her head in the same way Caspen did when he was considering something. There was a moment of silence as her eyes traveled over Tem.

“I do not know the extent of it,” she said finally.

Another pause. The only sound was the crackling of the fire.

Adelaide broke the silence:

“I do know this: the two of you need to be careful. What happened with Rowe cannot happen again.”

Tem blinked.

“Why not?”

Adelaide nodded at Caspen.

“Unlike my engagement to Caspenon, yours is bound by blood. You must keep each other safe. If anything happens to either of you, it could be centuries before we see another Hybreed.”

Tem’s lungs contracted so tightly she could barely breathe. Nothing Adelaide just said made any sense to her. She focused on the one thing she unequivocally understood:

“ Your engagement?”

Adelaide raised an elegant eyebrow. She glanced at Caspen, whose entire body had gone rigid.

“You had not told her we were once engaged,” Adelaide said.

It was a statement, not a question.

“No,” whispered Caspen. “I had not.”

Adelaide glanced at Tem before bowing her head.

“Then it would seem you two have much to discuss. I shall take my leave.”

Tem didn’t stop her this time.

The moment the door closed, she turned to Caspen, who was already opening his mouth. Tem beat him to it:

“You said it didn’t mean anything—”

“That was the truth. It—”

“You said it was only physical—”

“It was only physical. I never—”

“ You were fucking engaged to her. ”

At her tone, Caspen pursed his lips, falling silent.

“You lied to me,” Tem whispered.

“No,” Caspen shook his head sharply. “You asked if it meant anything, and it did not. It is true that we were engaged. But it was not my doing. I did not propose to her—” he leaned in to touch the golden claw around Tem’s neck, “—as I did to you. There is no blood bond between Adelaide and I. Our families arranged it. It was purely political.”

Tem still didn’t know what a blood bond was. But that would have to wait.

“ Political? ” she scoffed.

“Yes,” he shifted closer. “It was a strategy to bring the Drakon and Seneca quivers together, nothing more. I was the one who broke it off.”

“And when, exactly, did you break it off?”

Now Caspen fell silent.

“ When , Caspen?” Tem asked again, firmly this time.

He sighed.

“The first night of the training.”

A wave of horror passed over Tem.

“ Before or after we met? ”

From the look on his face, she knew the answer. He said it anyway:

“After.”

Tem’s stomach turned.

“Are you telling me you were engaged when I undressed in front of you?”

His voice was tight with pain:

“Yes.”

Tem felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. That was the night she’d touched herself—the night she’d slipped the claw between her legs.

“But Tem—” Caspen spoke quickly, clearly trying to get the words out, “—the moment I met you, I knew I had to end it. I have loved you from the beginning. You know this.”

Tem stared stiffly at the fire. She couldn’t bear to look at him for another sec?ond.

At her silence, Caspen said:

“Adelaide never meant anything to me, Tem. She will confirm it, if you wish.”

Tem snorted. The last thing she wanted was for Adelaide to confirm anything about her engagement—or lack thereof—with Caspen.

When she didn’t reply, Caspen began again:

“Tem, I—”

But Tem held up her palm, and he fell silent. Hot, burning betrayal twisted her insides into a painful knot. It was similar to the way she’d felt when he’d told her she was a Hybreed. Tem tried to control her heartbeat, but it was no use.

“I want to go home,” she said, standing abruptly.

“You cannot leave—” Caspen stood too, following her to the doorway, “—you must transition—”

Tem whirled around to face him.

“You think I want to have sex with you after what you just told me?”

Caspen tried to touch her shoulders but she shook him off.

“We do not have to have sex,” he said. “But you must practice, Tem. You need to—”

“I need to what? What , Caspen? Transition so I can become more like you? A liar? ”

His jaw tightened.

“Tem, please.”

“No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m going home.”

“At least let me walk you out. Rowe could still be—”

“I don’t need you to walk me out, Caspen. I don’t need anything from you .”

And with that, Tem ran from his chambers.

The passageway was empty; Rowe was long gone. Caspen’s blood was drying in a pool, and Tem leaped over it on her way out. She broke into a sprint as soon as she was on the trail, not stopping until she was all the way home.

Her mother was already in bed; the cottage was silent.

Tem went immediately to her room. She tore the claw from between her legs and shoved it into her dresser drawer, not wanting to receive a single pulse from Caspen tonight. She severed their mental connection, making sure there was no way he could access her mind, even while she slept. Then Tem crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning was blustery.

Tem didn’t mind; her mood matched the weather. When her mother knocked on her bedroom door to call her to breakfast, she simply pretended to be asleep. Tem wanted no part of the world today. She wanted no part of any of it—of Caspen’s world, of Leo’s, of her own. There were nowhere to go—nowhere to hide—nowhere that would shelter her from the reality of her situation.

Tem rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes traced the familiar knots in the wooden beams above her bed, and she wondered if it was the last time she’d be seeing them. She could recall a hundred nights crying herself to sleep in this very bed—a thousand where she’d been too tired to even do that. Her entire childhood had been spent struggling to fit in, struggling to feel right . Now that she knew the truth, somehow she felt little peace. Now there were two worlds she didn’t belong to.

And what of the blood bond? Adelaide had said what happened with Rowe couldn’t happen again—that they needed to keep each other safe. What did she mean by that? Caspen would have the answer. But Tem had no desire to speak with him. She wasn’t interested in hearing any more lies.

Finally, Tem rose. Her mother was in the kitchen.

“I saw the invitation,” she pointed at the letter on the table. “Are you ready for tonight?”

Tem sighed. Nothing could possibly prepare her for the ball.

“I don’t know,” she said.

Sympathy creased her mother’s forehead.

“My dear,” she crossed to Tem, placing a hand on her cheek. “You have made it this far. What’s a little further?”

Tem sat numbly, staring at Leo’s note.

It was true. She had made it this far.

Tem ate her breakfast in silence before retreating to the yard to do her chores. The day passed slowly. Tem spoke to Caspen only once—snapping a single sentence at him before slamming their connection shut again:

Don’t bother sending me a dress.

She knew Leo would send one. And sure enough, when she returned from the chicken coop, a package was on the porch. Tem unwrapped it in the privacy of her bedroom, laying the dress out on her bed so she could see its full length.

It was far more formal than the other dresses Leo had sent her, and Tem knew this was a direct reflection of the type of event she’d be attending tonight. Unlike the tight, revealing dresses she’d worn previously, this one was closer to a gown. It was sky blue and made of soft, expensive silk. There was a matching shawl made of delicate, sheer fabric with golden stars woven into it. It was surely handmade; Tem had never seen something crafted with such meticulous care.

She took a bath, cleaning every inch of her body and washing her hair. She waited until her mother was busy making dinner before slipping into her room and spraying saltwater on her curls. Then she pulled on the dress and the shawl. At the last minute, Tem slipped the claw between her legs. Even though she was angry with Caspen, the thought of leaving it in her bedroom when she might never return was too much for her to handle. The moment she inserted it, a gentle, tentative pulse nudged against her. Despite herself, Tem bit her lip. It felt so good. And she knew Caspen knew it too.

The pulse built slowly, and Tem grasped the edge of her bedside table. She understood the message: Caspen might not have sent her a dress, but he didn’t need to. He had this connection with her: this profound bond that nothing—not even an argument like the one they’d had last night—could break. Tem let out a soft moan as the pulses grew stronger.

Then they stopped.

Her eyes flew open. He was testing the waters—reminding her what he could do—enticing her to return the favor. Tem was sorely tempted to open their mental connection and send him a pulse back.

But she would not give in. Not yet.

From then on, there was nothing left to do but wait. The carriage arrived on time, and when the footman knocked on their door, her mother pulled her into a tight hug.

“I am so proud of you, my dear,” her mother said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, mother,” Tem said back.

In the safety of her embrace, she remembered everything that was at stake: every reason why she was doing this. It wasn’t about Caspen or Leo. It was about her family—the one person who had sheltered her and raised her and made sure she had a soft place to fall. There was nothing Tem wouldn’t do for her mother.

By the time the carriage arrived at the castle, Tem was resolved to her fate.

She entered the foyer with her chin held high, ready for whatever the evening would bring. The ballroom was breathtakingly decorated. Flowers hung in great bunches from the ceilings; gorgeous crystal glassware was stacked in sparkling towers around the room. To her disappointment, Gabriel was nowhere to be found. Instead, Lilly appeared suddenly at her side, pushing a glass of champagne into her hands.

“Long time no see, Tem. Are you ready for tonight?”

Tem stared down at the champagne, half contemplating drinking it.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“My brother has been talking about you all week. It’s a bit pathetic, actually.”

The information made Tem feel warm. She wanted to see Leo. Badly.

“Is he here?” she asked.

“Should be,” Lilly chirped, taking a sip of her champagne. “Probably discussing important, kingly things with our father.”

At the mention of Maximus, Tem’s stomach twisted into a knot. She wanted to ask Lilly if the king would contest Leo’s choice—if he would stand in the way of a wedding. But she didn’t want to get Gabriel in trouble. And she didn’t want to assume Leo would choose her. So instead she said:

“I’m going to find him.”

“Suit yourself,” Lilly gave her a little wave before flitting away.

Tem traded her champagne for a whiskey before making a lap of the ballroom. The royals were out in full force tonight: everywhere she turned she saw necks, ears, and fingers dripping in gold. The sight made her feel sick. Tem leaned against the closest column, trying to catch her breath. She lowered the barrier in her mind, but didn’t reach for Caspen. Instead she searched for another connection—one she knew was close by. When she found it, she said:

Can you hear me?

The words disappeared into the void. Seconds passed. Tem tried again:

Do you know who I am?

A long pause. Tem stared at her whiskey, her heart pounding against her ribs. Then her father’s voice replied:

Yes.

Hope rushed through Tem.

I’m going to get you out. I’m going to fix this.

Her announcement went unacknowledged. Instead, she heard the same words she’d heard once before:

Do not trust the king.

Tem frowned. Something occurred to her for the first time, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to ask it sooner:

Which king?

But the connection was closed.

Tem downed the rest of her whiskey in an attempt to calm down. Truth be told, she didn’t trust either king. Before she could think on it further, she felt anoth?er pulse.

This time, against her better judgement, she let Caspen in.

And just what do you think you’re doing? she asked.

Missing you.

Tem rolled her eyes.

You’re not forgiven.

Another pulse.

I know.

Are you going to apologize?

If that is what you wish.

Tem crossed her legs, trying not to gasp as he sent a pulse so strong her clitoris throbbed.

You never fight fair.

I see no reason to.

Tem couldn’t reply. She was too focused on resisting the orgasm that desperately wanted to break free. Caspen was relentless, sending her pulse after pulse until she was so turned on she almost didn’t feel the hand on her waist.

“Tem.”

It was Leo. The pulses suddenly ceased.

She turned to face him.

“ Kora ,” he breathed, his wide eyes taking in the silk dress and golden shawl. “You look…” he seemed to be at a loss for words, finishing quietly: “Celestial.”

“You’re getting better at compliments,” Tem said.

His face broke into a grin.

“I’m certainly glad to hear it.”

Tem smiled too, and for a moment, her worries disappeared. She looked up at Leo, taking in his velvet suit and the jeweled snake pinned to his cloak.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Leo asked.

“No,” Tem answered honestly. She’d been enjoying other things, but certainly not the ball.

His smile widened.

“I thought as much. Shall we venture elsewhere, then?”

“I’m not going to your room,” Tem said curtly.

“Who said anything about my room?”

Tem rolled her eyes. If Leo had his way, they’d never leave his room.

He raised his arm, offering her the crook of his elbow.

“I was thinking we could take a stroll, if it pleases you.”

“Your father won’t like that.”

“Good.”

In reply, Tem laced her fingers around his arm as he guided her through the ballroom, out to the patio, and toward the maze. Her wetness dripped down her thighs, evidence of the orgasm she’d barely resisted.

The moment they entered the great green walls, Tem felt calm for the first time that evening. The din of the ball died down as they wound deeper into the maze, the air becoming so cold that Tem shivered. Leo immediately set his cloak on her shoulders. This time she didn’t protest, instead savoring the way it enveloped her in his scent. As they wound through the maze, the weight of the evening hung over her.

“Leo,” Tem said as steadily as she could. “Am I in the final three?”

He glanced down.

“Do you want to be?”

A direct question.

Before she could answer it, they came upon a dead end.

The world went silent as they both stood still. A statue of a robed figure loomed over them, and Tem could just make out the name etched into the plaque at its base:

King Maximus III.

Leo’s father.

Tem turned to face the prince. He was looking down at her calmly, with the same practiced composure she’d come to expect from him. When she still didn’t answer, Leo leaned in.

His lips brushed hers as he whispered:

“I’m asking you to give me your heart, Tem. I deserve to know whether it’s even yours to give.”

Tem couldn’t handle the way he was looking at her. It was not unlike the way Caspen looked at her—as if she were something exceedingly precious. Something worth having.

“I can’t promise you my heart,” she whispered. “But I can promise it will always be mine to give.”

Leo pulled away a fraction of an inch.

Tem knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But it would have to be enough for now.

“Leo,” she raised her hand, cradling his narrow face in her palm. “You told me not to lie to you.”

He gave her a sad smile.

“So I did.”

There was nothing else to say. Tem kissed him.

From the way Leo kissed her back, she knew he’d been waiting all night to do so. His hands went immediately to her body, roaming beneath the cloak as he pressed her back against the statue. His fingers grabbed her hair, arching her neck so he could kiss up her throat.

When his lips found hers again, Tem was done pretending she didn’t want him.

Leo was warm. And he tasted like honey. And his tongue was sheer heaven against hers, even though it wasn’t Caspen’s.The prince lifted her onto the base of the statue, pulling her legs around him. She was surrounded by hardness—Leo’s body in front of her, and the cold stone behind her.

It wasn’t until he slipped his hand up her dress that Tem remembered what he’d find between her legs.