68. Harper
68
HARPER
H er body carried a multitude of delicious aches from what they had just done—sweetest of all that lingering satisfaction simmering in her core. What had they just done? She reeled from it—the utter recklessness of what she had invited. Dimitri was right. There was no going back from this. She had fucked Dimitrius—spymaster, traitor, duplicity incarnate—however much he felt none of those things to her. But that did not mean she felt ready to face the consequences of her choices as they slammed her in the chest with full force. He took a daily preventative tonic—there would be nothing born of their union. But that did not relieve her, not with the magnitude of their choice. Now she was glad there were no mirrors in this suite. She wouldn’t have to look herself in the eye.
Dimitri hovered, twitching with impatience between the living and dining areas as Harper dressed in the bedroom. He had filled the armoire in her room with elegant dresses from the elven court of Tournai—the bundle of shimmering and sheer fabrics he had brought and dumped on the chair. Whose dresses she wore, she had no idea, but he told her, with no give in his voice, that Saradon had decreed she dress as befit her rank.
“I still prefer breeches!” she called to him, wriggling into a dress. “You have no idea how cold my legs get flapping around under these ridiculous skirts! It’s winter!”
“You never know. I might,” he called, a smile in his voice. “I might suit a dress, you know.”
She snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”
“I’ll dress up—or down—any time for you, princess,” he oozed in a sultry tone. It seemed his cocky, arrogant mask was back. Harper tutted. At least it meant he had recovered some of his spirit and resilience—and it helped keep the emotions simmering inside her at bay. She could fall back on bickering too.
“This… is… ridiculous!” she huffed, trying to pull the sleeves and neckline up far enough so she could button the back. “Argh! I can’t get into this damned thing.”
“You chose one that fastened in the back, didn’t you? You do know they’re the hardest ones to get into. You probably need a maid for that.” She could practically hear his eye roll.
“Well, how would I know? I don’t wear these blasted things. You ought not to have brought it!”
“Well, how would I know?” he mimicked her. “I don’t know the first thing about dresses.”
“Clearly you do…”
“I suppose. I’m an expert in taking dresses off, though, not putting them on. I’m very good at taking that style off.” She could see his wolfish smile in her mind.
“Lech,” she called, hating the jealous roar, hot and angry, that raged through her. He was an expert at taking off dresses, was he? She bit down on the questions that longed to unleash from her tongue. It was none of her damn business. She didn’t even want to know. She didn’t care. Harper shoved aside the lies to herself and pushed that frustration into the dress.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
Harper scrabbled at the buttons again and swore. “I can’t get them. I have to change.”
“We don’t have time.” The smile faded from his voice. “He’s ordered us to be there presently. If we’re late… Well, he does not wish for today’s entertainment to start without you, he said.”
Harper stilled. Her own amusement drained as reality seeped in. They were not in the elven court of Tournai, at Dimitri’s apartments, relatively free. They were in the heart of the mountain at Afnirheim, captives of Saradon, with no chance of escape.
“Are you decent?” he asked. “Nothing on show you don’t want me to see?”
Harper snorted. “After what we just did? Modesty would be hypocritical.”
Dimitri strode in, a hand shading his eyes. “Turn around, back facing me. I’ll do it.”
“Oh, give over.”
He lowered his hand and threw her a wicked smile. “Certainly, if it means I get to devour you—visually, of course.”
She slapped his chest half-heartedly. “I think I’ll find a way to manage without you, on second thoughts. Go away.”
“You want to go out there half-dressed? I think not. I’m your only option—lucky me. Turn around.”
She stuck out her tongue, but did as he asked, clutching the dress to her chest as the back gaped open. “I… Well… Hurry up then. D-don’t touch me.” Again. She did not have the self-control for that. Her cheeks burned and she angled her face away, not wanting him to see if her cheeks had reddened, betraying her.
Dimitri snorted and lowered his hand. “That’s a little difficult, but I’ll do my best. Do you know, the blush on your cheeks when you’re embarrassed is adorable.”
She whirled on him and froze as his hands caught in the fabric and threatened to tug it aside with the force of her movement.
“Careful, princess,” he teased. “Else I’ll be showing you just how well I can undress you— again .”
Her belly swirled at the dark promise in his voice. Wrath spiked. Wrath at herself, at how good that little coil inside her felt. The worst thing was that she wanted him to make good on that promise and undress her—and make the world and all its dangers disappear for a few more blessed moments coupled with him.
She stepped closer, her hands crossed over her chest to hold up the dress. So close that with a heaving breath, she would press against his smart jacket. And how she hated herself as much as him for wanting it for real. Even if it was to pretend of an escape for a few scavenged minutes. Harper glared up at him, her smile all teeth. “Try it. I dare you. And see which part of you I skin first.”
He laughed with delight. “Oh, I do so like your bite, huntress. But beware—you might know how to skin a rabbit. But I, darling, am a wolf .” The smile he returned was all teeth too—but not the stinging bite of hers, the promise of something far more dark and sensual.
And with that, he dared to grasp her waist in those big, warm hands of his, and spin her on the spot until her back pressed against him. She stiffened. His head lowered, and she stifled a groan at the feel of his breath upon her ear, and then the slightest graze of his lips as he opened them to speak. Harper squeezed her eyes shut, glad he could not see her face. Glad he could not know how much his touch and that promise of something more between them ignited something inside her she did not dare to face.
“Now, huntress, are you quite ready?”
A little sound escaped her, and her cheeks burned with the shame of it, as he squeezed her waist ever so slightly and then stepped back.
A soft chuckle emerged behind her.
Gods, she wanted to stab him. Stab him good and hard for making her feel this way in the middle of the maelstrom of everything .
Harper did not dare speak. She could not. She straightened, forcing her breath to even out, cursing the warmth flaring low in her belly, and bared her back to him wordlessly.
Dimitrius took that for permission. His fingers were silk at the base of her spine as he captured the fine fabric. With every touch, her skin pebbled as he gingerly lifted each button and loop, pulling the dress across her skin as he fastened each one by one from the base of her back to the crest of her shoulder blades. When he was done, he smoothed the fabric across her shoulders and down her back with a whispering touch, then stepped away, at last ceasing the sweet agony of temptation.
“There. All done.” He sounded… regretful.
Harper released her breath and filled her voice with cold indifference, the only weapon she had, drenching the fire within her that longed to rip it all off and succumb to temptation. But she could not hide any longer. Not if Saradon summoned them. “Thank you. This will do, I suppose.”
The rich, mid-blue fabric complimented her pale skin, and the light embellishments of silver threads at the neckline, wrists, and hem were muted enough to not draw attention to her. It was a pretty dress, sitting just off her shoulders and sweeping down from her waist, over her hips to tumble to the floor, but it belonged on someone else. An elven lady, not a glorified pauper.
“Stop worrying. You look perfectly presentable. If I may?” He gathered up her hair, tucked each side behind her ears, and arranged the rest in a cascade down her back. “I ought to have brought some hair adornments, but alas, it will be fit enough for now.”
Standing beside her in a suit of the darkest blue that was almost black, they looked a fitting couple… in any other scenario. Anywhere but here , Harper thought. She would stand beside him in Tournai thusly, if it meant she was free. She swallowed.
He smiled at her, but his eyes creased with worry as his smile faded. Despite his neat presentation, she had noticed the developing dark hollows under his eyes. He looks like he is in mourning . Perhaps he was. There was much lost, and much left to lose.
“He’s waiting. Let’s go.” Dimitri offered her his arm, but Harper strode past him, back straight, kicking away the folds of the dress with every step.
She shivered at the frigid air that rushed around her legs, but she needed it too. Needed to put some distance between them, because she could not face up to the things he made her feel. Needed it to quench that heat rising within her and to ground herself in fear once more—because fear would keep her alive.