Chapter 6
Maxus stepped out of the library, his hulking form blocking my path down the hall.
Vexaya squash me.
I was already running late. Not just keep-them-anticipating-my-arrival late, but late late. And to my own ball.
Still, I let him drag me into the library and crowd me against the shelves. The only light came from the two windows facing the three walls of shadowed books. A half-moon glossed the grass beyond them and trickled over the crimson floor.
But the anger shining in Maxus’s orange eyes was bright enough to reveal the displeasure clenching his jaw.
It rotated as he surveyed me. “You didn’t come to the barn last night.” He added, “Or the night before.”
“The two nights earlier this week were not enough for you?”
“I’ll never have enough of you.”
Those gruff words momentarily stunned. I placed a hand against the stiff fabric of the uniform covering his chest. “I’ve been busy preparing for this evening.” A lie.
I hadn’t needed to prepare a damned thing.
He knew it. But he just said, “For your betrothal ball.”
Surprised he’d mentioned my betrothal when he hadn’t the past few times we’d met, I found myself at a loss for words. I looked over at the open door. The halls beyond were quiet. Too quiet. This meant I was really late, and I really needed to leave.
Hoping to mollify Maxus quickly, I touched his scarred cheek.
His nostrils flared. He stepped back, causing my fingers to fall.
I curled them into my palm and lowered my hand. “If you must know, I’ve not been feeling quite like myself because yes, this is my betrothal ball.” I backed toward the door. “Which means this marriage is actually happening, and I don’t want it to.”
When he just stared at me with a deep groove between his thick brows, I huffed and turned to leave.
Only for him to seize me by the waist and push me against the bookshelves.
His mouth silenced my squeak of surprise. His hands molded to my hips as he kissed me hard. So hard, annoyance sparked, and I feared for my crimson-painted mouth.
As soon as his lips loosened, I kissed him softly, then drew back. But his mouth descended to my throat, and his rough hands began to gather my gown.
“Maxus,” I whispered.
He hummed against my neck, fangs grazing my erratic pulse. Cool air washed over my exposed legs. Voices drifted down the hall outside.
“Max.” Tense, I looked over at the door while pushing at his arms. “We’ll have to continue this another time.”
“When?” he grunted against my collarbone.
“Tomorrow night,” I tossed out without thought.
His hand found my undergarments as he rumbled, “Tonight.”
Over the silk covering my core, he stroked me, and my thighs threatened to squeeze his hand. Aroused was the last thing I felt. But should I survive this damned ball, I would certainly need something more than blood and wine to help me relax.
“Fine.” I pulled his hands off me. “Later.”
His mouth detached from my neck. Eyes bright, he scowled at me.
“I promise,” I said with a kiss so quick, he couldn’t return it.
Then I left him in the dark.
The ballroom resided on the first floor at the back of the manor.
Glass doors lined half of the circular room, all of which were open to the stone terrace and rose gardens beyond.
Tiny flames danced in the crystal chandelier above everyone’s heads.
Gold sconces near the piano were the only ones lit.
Bright light wasn’t necessary when the glittering finery of our guests ignited the room, and the stars and moon shone through the ceiling crafted from panes of crimson glass.
I slipped inside and along the wall, unnoticed until Lord Wendyll turned away from a server. He paused in sipping his drink. As he lowered it, his green eyes gleamed.
He stepped in my path. “If it isn’t the new queen of Saltblood Isle.”
Irritation prickled my skin. But I smiled and allowed him to take my hand. “I wouldn’t say that quite yet.”
His mouth lingered atop my hand far longer than what was considered appropriate, his mustache tickling. “I knew I should have bonded to you when I had the chance.”
Memories of that mustache against private places almost made me shiver.
Gently, I tugged at my hand. “You lords never do know what stands right before you until it wanders off.”
Though I hadn’t merely wandered off. When he’d confessed to being matched and said that he would try to get out of it by speaking to my father about marrying me instead, I had run.
In the weeks spent evading the lord’s efforts to see me, I’d feared he would indeed speak to my father. I’d never heard if he had. And after my father had warned against dalliances with influential men, I hadn’t been about to ask him.
Lord Wendyll refused to release me. A raucous laugh tipped his head. Sobering, he sipped his drink and stepped closer. “Have I mentioned that I’ve missed you?”
I felt it then—his attention—and looked between the bodies before me to find my betrothed across the room.
King Breyron leaned against the opposite wall, beside the row of open doors and surrounded by a bevy of whispering females.
A knee-high boot was pressed against the stone.
As was his head, which allowed his shimmering, long velvet coat to gape and reveal a silver-dusted dress shirt beneath.
His coat collar stood high. Half of his black hair was loosely secured, giving an unobstructed view of those breath-halting features.
He didn’t smile.
But he did stare. And a perfect brow arched when his gaze shifted to the lord who still held my hand.
I looked back at Wendyll, about to excuse myself, when he lifted my hand to his mouth once more.
My nose crinkled.
I hid it with a forced laugh. “My lord, you are going to make me blush.”
“Truly?” He stepped even closer, our feet almost touching. “I don’t believe I ever once made you blush.” His clean-shaven chin lowered with his voice. “Though you were young. So perilously young.”
“Well, now I am older, and we are sadly both spoken for.”
A slow smile twitched his bronze mustache. “Do you know of any bonded who stay true to their vows?”
Though there had to be some, I didn’t.
Again, his eyes gleamed. “Me neither.”
Before he could kiss my hand a third time, my friends rescued me. “There you are,” Deedra said, looping her arm through mine.
I gave the lord an apologetic smile. “Enjoy your evening, Lord Wendyll.”
“I hope I do,” he said, tone filled with the same suggestiveness I’d once found immensely enticing.
Now, I could barely keep from making a face as we left him by the wall. “He still thinks I’m interested in him.”
Clovia bumped my free arm with hers. “You did spend some moons sneaking off with him.”
I was unable to pay that any mind. New queen bounced through my head as Deedra fluffed the roots of her wheat-blond curls and said something about Lord Wendyll’s wife.
In little more than a moon, I would become queen.
A tiny spark jolted me at the thought.
After snatching slim wineglasses from a passing gold tray, we stood near the terrace doors. Cautiously, I let my eyes skim the room and discovered my betrothed no longer lingered against the wall. Wherever he’d gone, I couldn’t see, and I didn’t wish to try so hard to do so.
Clovia, who’d scarcely spoken to me since learning the king had chosen to wed me, eyed my gown.
Peering down at the slinky silver that hugged my curves and rippled over my breasts, I frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Clovia sipped her wine. “Just thought you might have worn something a bit more…” Waving her hand, she said, “Never mind.”
Deedra gave her sister a curious glance, then studied me with fluttering lashes. “You look stunning, Ethel. Like a shooting star.”
I snorted.
Adythe observed the ballroom while murmuring, “You do look a little underdressed for such an occasion.”
Clovia appeared to hold a laugh in, and huffed.
My stomach pinched.
Clovia and Adythe had both expressed interest in the king’s search for a wife, and Clovia had begun packing her belongings right after his visit to the Thaneton Estate.
Aside from me, Deedra might have been the only unbonded woman who hadn’t expressed interest. She wouldn’t dare step on her older sister’s toes.
But I had.
I hadn’t just stepped on Clovia’s and Adythe’s toes. Because they’d believed that I didn’t wish to marry, and that the king would be no exception, I’d apparently deceived them.
“For the last time,” I whispered. “I had no rotting idea what my father was up to. I rarely do.”
Clovia plucked at the thin strap of her moon-white gown. “It hardly matters now, does it?”
Evidently, it did.
Any annoyance my friends felt toward me bothered me. So much so that I would often attempt to mollify them, even if it meant making fun of or speaking poorly of myself.
But I couldn’t do anything to remedy this.
“No fighting. Look.” Gesturing at the crowd, Deedra whispered, “They claw at the king like ravenous birds.”
Still unable to see him, I moved to stand beside Deedra and followed her gaze.
She hadn’t been exaggerating. Two noblewomen stood unnecessarily close to the king. One was Lady Resilla, a friend of my mother’s. She flicked her brunette curls over her shoulder and touched his arm.
But Brey wasn’t looking at her. Nor at any of the people around him.
He was looking at me.
“He’s staring at us,” Adythe hissed and turned away to drag her fingers through her sleek orange hair. “Oh my goddess, it’s like gazing at the sun. I cannot stand it.”
Clovia’s pink-painted lips tilted. Between them, she murmured, “Divine.”
Then, appearing to say something to the ladies, the king moved.
He carved through the crowd like a sea serpent. Every gliding step caused those near him to retreat and stare.
My heart kicked forcefully.
Deedra nudged me. “Go.”
I went.
Doing so had nothing to do with wanting to see him and everything to do with wanting to escape Clovia’s and Adythe’s wrath. At least, that was what I told myself as I strode toward the man I’d insulted and rejected a mere week ago.