Tower of Tempest: A Steamy Fantasy Romance (Stolen Crowns Book 3)

Chapter 20

Poppy refused to look at me. She sat on the balcony overlooking the sky court while I stayed inside her room like an idiot, trying to figure out how to get her to smile again. The break-in already had me on edge, so when I’d noticed those females whispering, pointing, not at me, but at Poppy, I lost all sense. I was usually good at keeping my calm. Something about this woman made me lose control, and I hated it.

I’d practically dragged her across the city back to the inn, all the while ignoring her protests, ignoring Leoni, Driscoll, ignoring every damn thing until I had her back in this room, away from prying eyes.

Now I stared at her through the glass doors. Her brown hair flowed over the back of the chair, her black wings so delicate, brushing against the white marble of the balcony. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and her shoulders shook.

Fuck.

Was she... crying? Oh no. I couldn’t handle that. Women might’ve cried over me, but I was never around to see it. That was the entire point of keeping my distance. Now I’d voluntarily chosen to lock myself into a room with one, and I couldn’t run from this. I’d have to fix it. I was used to fixing other people’s conflicts—so fixing my own shouldn’t have been so different.

Theoretically.

I shoved a hand through my hair and strode out onto the balcony. Poppy turned her head the opposite direction, refusing to look at me.

“Mind if I sit?” I gestured to the chair next to her.

She shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Her voice was raspy and thick with tears.

I dropped into the chair next to her, looking out over the beautiful dark green mountains, a contrast to the dark blue sea far below. “I was just trying to protect you.”

She stayed silent.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Someone is after you, and I don’t want you to get hurt or kidnapped like your gran. I think hiding is the safest option right now until we figure out what to do.”

“You mean until you decide for me?” she asked, voice cold.

I winced. “No. Of course not. You get a say.”

She spread out her arms. “Like I have a say in this?”

I swallowed. This was why I didn’t get involved, didn’t get too close. All it brought was trouble. I was playing at something I had no experience in. I didn’t need to be the hero. I needed to be the playboy prince.

“Wanna play a game?” I asked, testing out a teasing tone.

It was the barest of movements. A slight tilt to the head. But it was something.

“Is there alcohol involved?” she finally asked. “Because I could use a drink.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Have you ever drunk alcohol before?”

She shrugged, her wings lifting and falling with the movement. “There’s a first time for everything.”

I grinned. Getting drunk with Poppy? Now this I could get on board with.

I stood and clapped my hands together. “Then I’ll order us a bottle of wine from the bar. We can sit in front of the fire, play games, drink, talk. It’ll be a good day.”

The perfect day. Meanwhile Driscoll and Leoni would be searching for information about Poppy, about her gran. And I could keep Poppy safe, and maybe by the end of the day, she would no longer hate me for it.

I laughedas I flicked a marble across a flat wooden board with eight engraved circles on it. The outer circles were bigger but became smaller as they got closer to the center. The game was simple: flick the marble and try to get it into the center circles, which got you the most points. It was a popular game across Arathia.

The sun had long since sunk in the sky, stars speckling the inky black, the outline of mountain peaks in the distance.

My marble rolled past the center and into one of the outer circles.

Poppy sat on the floor across from me, firelight setting her skin and hair alight like she was otherworldly. “Beat you again,” she said, raising her glass and tipping it toward me.

I looked at the three empty bottles of wine that sat around us, my head foggy. “How are you handling your liquor so well?” I asked.

She leaned forward, smiling. “I think you’ve drunk most of it.” She took a sip from her glass, the wine dark and sloshing against the goblet.

That was probably true. I hadn’t gotten drunk in a long, long time. I also hadn’t had this much fun in, well, ever. We’d spent all day playing games, ordering room service, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing, the earlier tension between us forgotten as we slipped back into easy conversation—and flirting. So much spirits-damned flirting.

Her wings trailed along the ground behind her, looking so soft, so divine. “Has anyone ever touched those?” I pointed. The liquor loosened my tongue even more so than usual, emboldening me.

She straightened, wiping her mouth after taking another sip. “No.”

I slowly pushed the board out of the way so it no longer sat between us. “Is it true what they say?” My voice dropped low. “That it’s an intimate gesture?”

She trailed her own finger along them. “I don’t know. No one’s ever touched them like that. I’ve read a few romance novels where...” Her cheeks flushed and she snapped her mouth closed.

“Oho.” I laughed. “You’re going to have to finish that sentence. What exactly happened in these romances you read?”

She swatted me, liquid sloshing from her glass and splattering against the white marble floor. “We should really clean that.”

She made to move, but I grabbed her arm, and she froze, looking down at my hand and back up to me.

“Not a chance,” I said. “Not until I hear more about these romance books. I’m very intrigued, Poppy.”

I let go of her arm, the simple contact making me feel dizzy. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe both. I leaned down on my elbow, propping my head up with my hand, waiting to hear more.

Poppy set her glass down, glaring at me. “You’re relentless.”

“I think you meant to say handsome, charming, a pleasure to be around.”

She shoved me but laughed. The sound tinkled through the air like bells. I reached for another bottle behind me and poured a glass. I might’ve ordered too much, drunk too much, but we were having such a good time, I didn’t care.

I hadn’t heard from Driscoll or Leoni, and I wondered if they’d update us sometime soon about their findings. Hopefully they’d gotten some information, anything that could help us. I took another sip of the wine.

I didn’t want to think about that tonight.

Poppy sighed and pushed a hand through her brown hair. It spilled over her shoulders, framing her face. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell you about one of the books I read.” She held up a finger. “If you tell me how you became the playboy prince.”

“Ugh.” I rolled over onto my back. “You’re a real killjoy, you know that?”

“Well, someone has to balance you out.”

I stared up at the ceiling, moving my hands behind my head. “It’s not like it happened overnight.” I’d actually never thought about how it happened, how the nickname spread, how I’d become this famous bachelor who refused to settle down. “I’ve never been good at relationships,” I said slowly.

“But everyone likes you,” Poppy said, disbelief in her voice.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t likable.” I scratched the back of my neck. “It’s true, everyone likes me because I’m easy to like. I get along with everybody.”

“You know, not all fighting is bad. It can lead to growth, to stronger relationships.”

I snorted. “That’s the idealistic version. The fighting I saw between my sister and parents, between my brother and mother—it caused nothing but destruction. Almost tore our family apart.”

“I’m sorry.” Poppy looked down into her glass. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“One time, when I was fourteen, my sister decided to steal our father’s ship. Sailed it right into the rocky cliffs of Apolis. I’d never seen my father so angry, and my sister was even angrier. She’d told him if he’d taught her how to sail like she’d repeatedly asked, that wouldn’t have happened.”

“That probably didn’t go over well with your father,” Poppy said.

“No, it didn’t. They didn’t speak for weeks. We stopped dining together as a family like we’d always done. My mother was a wreck, no idea how to fix any of it. So I stepped in. I brought them together, I listed out all the amazing things about both of them, reminded them how much they respected and loved each other. Then I made some silly joke about how now my father had an excuse to buy a new ship, a Water Festival present for him. It broke the tension. Gabby and Father laughed, and everything was okay.” I remembered the relief that had swept over me in that moment, how I’d marched to the kitchens and announced we’d all be dining together that night. And we did. “That same thing just kept happening. Over and over and over. Every fight, I was there. It almost became an expectation. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t want that kind of trouble for myself, so I just avoided relationships. Bedded women and ran. For some reason, that made me even more appealing to them.”

“They were trying to tie you up—down.” Her face flushed scarlet. “I meant down.”

Spirits below. Now that was an image. “I have absolutely no qualms with being tied up.” As long as I could still slip out in the morning. “That’s it. That’s my story.”

My gaze flicked to her as she tucked her legs under her bottom. Her brows furrowed as I sat up, roping an arm around my bent knee. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. “We’re getting off track. I promised I’d tell you how I became the playboy prince.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Fine.” She leaned forward, her cheeks a lovely rosy pink, her hair a shimmering waterfall. I wondered what it would be like to run my hands through that hair, to pull it aside and set my mouth on the delicate skin of her neck. No, Loch. None of that. I’d just finished telling her why I avoided getting too close, for fuck’s sake.

“I read a romance book that had a pretty... spicy scene in it.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I lifted my glass in a cheers before taking a sip. “Don’t skimp on the details.”

She shoved me. “Prince Lochlan!”

“It’s Loch,” I said, words slurring together. “Just Loch.”

She swallowed. “That wouldn’t be proper.”

“Well, I’m not a proper prince, now am I?” I set down my glass. “I’m serious, Poppy. Just Loch. It’s what my sister and brother call me. What close friends call me.”

“And that’s what you’d consider me?” She trailed her finger around the rim of her glass. “A close friend?”

I didn’t know what I considered her, my mind too muddled to work through that mess. “Yeah, it is. Is that okay?”

She smiled wide and leaned closer like she was telling me a secret. “That means you’re my first real friend, Loch.”

Hearing my name come from those lips stirred something deep inside of me, something bubbling and threatening to break the surface. Want. Need. So much need.

I set my glass down. Time to put away the alcohol. “Alright, no more delaying,” I said. “Out with it. Tell me about this romance book you read.”

She sighed. “It was about a woman with wings who fell in love with a fire elemental. She’d been burned as a child and was afraid of fire, of anyone touching her wings because of what the flames had done to them. They were blackened, misshapen, and she couldn’t fly because of the accident. When she met the fire elemental, she’d thought he was from the frost court through a series of miscommunications. Then she found out he had fire magic, which was her worst fear.”

“So she couldn’t fly?” I asked. “Sounds familiar.”

“Indeed.” Her lips quirked. “She had to learn to trust. To trust him. To trust herself. She did eventually. The end.”

“Details,” I said, and Poppy hesitated, eyes raking over my body in a way I wasn’t used to—not from her. Was she... checking me out? “He used his fire magic, smoke, to trail along her wings, and it felt really good, I guess,” she said in a rush.

I gave her a wolfish smile. “How good, Poppy?”

She looked up at the ceiling, refusing to meet my gaze, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Really, really good,” she said. “She screamed. In a happy way. Loudly. Loud enough for her neighbors to hear and come check on her, which ended the scene.” She gave a quick shrug. “There. That’s it.”

I moved closer to her, the tips of our boots now touching. A breath hitched in her throat. “No, that’s not it. That’s the summarized version. I asked for details. If you were in class right now, you’d be failing the assignment.”

She held my gaze, not moving, pink lips pursed and so damn kissable. “Maybe you could try,” she said in a rush, so quickly I almost didn’t catch the words.

It was my turn to go completely still. “Touch your wings?” I asked in a low voice.

“Just so I can show you what the book said. It might jog my memory more.”

Pink tinged her cheeks, and a smile curved my lips. “Okay.”

She swallowed, straightening as I sat up and inched closer to her, both of us cross-legged, our knees touching. She held my gaze and grabbed my hand, lifting it and bringing it to the side of her right wing.

It was impossibly soft, like silk and fur mixed together, sumptuous. Something I could bury myself in. I ran a finger through the black feathers, and she shuddered.

“Is it working?” I asked, knowing damn well this wasn’t about describing the book anymore.

Her throat bobbed. “Yes,” she breathed out. “In the book, the man trailed his fingers through the feathers until he found the bone, and then he stroked it.”

I followed her command, letting the tips of my fingers brush against her wing until they came to something hard beneath the feather, and I applied just the slightest pressure.

She let out a gasp.

“Bad?” I asked.

“Good,” she panted. “Really good.”

Blood and water, her voice, the way it came out all breathy and uneven. This was dangerous territory, but now that I’d entered it, I had no intention of leaving.

I came to my knees, and she looked up at me. “What happened next?” I asked.

Her cheeks turned red.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” I laid my palm against her wing and moved it in slow circles.

A moan escaped her lips as she said, “He leaned down and kissed her.”

Dangerous, dangerous territory. I dipped my head so that my lips hovered right over hers.

She shifted upward, our mouths nearly touching. My entire body burned with desire. With all the things I wanted to do to her right now. Far in the distance, I heard the crash of a glass, a sizzle, a spark, and then Poppy shrieked.

I came back to myself as a shower of popping embers rained over us right as one of the glasses of wine fell and splashed into the fire.

I threw my body over hers, blocking any flames that might catch her wings. She curled up under me, and I stayed like that until the flash of fire had died down.

“Oh!” She pushed out from under me and jumped to her feet. “I’m so sorry. My wing knocked over the glass...”

I shot up, shoving a hand through my hair, a cold dose of reality smothering whatever had been building between us. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it.” I gripped her arms as I searched her body for injuries. “Are you alright? Did you get burned?”

“I’m okay, Loch.”

She gazed up at me, lips parted, a yearning in her gaze that scared me.

Bloody fucking waters, what was I doing?

“It’s late.” I let her go and stepped back. “I’m tired. You can take the bed, of course.” Her gaze slipped to the sheepskin lying on the floor, where I’d be sleeping tonight. There was no way I was leaving her side. Not when her life might be at stake. “Get some rest. I’m sure Leoni and Driscoll will have a lot of information to report to us tomorrow.”

She hesitated, shoulders slumping, then nodded and swept into the bath chamber.

Spirits below, I was an idiot. I couldn’t believe I’d taken things so far. Too far.

I sank down onto the sheepskin, staring at the dying fire for what felt like hours as I replayed that moment between us over and over. How she’d leaned in like she wanted to kiss me, my lips so close to smothering hers.

At some point, Poppy emerged from the bathing chamber and slipped into bed, her breathing growing heavy. My eyelids dropped closed as the fire slowly died to embers and ash, and my foggy brain fought the battle to stay awake, to keep replaying our moment by the fire. I’d never let it go this far again, but at least, I had this memory. This perfect day to tuck away and keep all for myself.