Chapter 13
Lorelei was hardly unaccustomed to sharing her bed with a man.
It was, after all, one of her favorite pastimes.
Sharing her sleep, on the other hand, she hadn’t done in years …
and sharing not a bed but a bedchamber—offering easy access to attack without giving herself the chance to feel any subtle movements that might warn her in time to wake and save herself?
Now, that was entirely unprecedented …
As was the fact that, with Gerard de Moireul lying scarcely three feet away from her, she had somehow, absurdly, fallen into the deepest and most satisfying sleep she’d experienced in weeks.
It was as if her misbehaving body, in its deeply weary state, had somehow interpreted the presence of the Serafin Empire’s most dangerous general—still openly loyal to his appalling master—as protection for her.
It was a potentially lethal mistake and an unsettling truth to awaken to—especially when she realized, half a minute later, that she hadn’t even been the first to open her eyes.
Behind her, she could hear soft, repetitive movements against silk and the sound of steady but effortful breathing.
Not only was her prisoner apparently awake, he was already in action, and she hadn’t even noticed.
Apparently, he could have done anything while she’d slept on and on. He could even have left!
At that thought, she surged upright on a wave of panic …
And found herself presented with one more unprecedented experience for her morning:
Gerard de Moireul, the Empire’s famously chaste and noble Golden Beacon, was stripped to the waist and doing one-handed push-ups on the floor of her tent with silent, focused concentration.
Oh, my! Lorelei’s eyes flared wide. With his gaze still studiously trained on the floor, she was free to look her fill—and there were just so many different muscles on display for her delectation, running all along his broad shoulders and down his back.
Ohhhh, and his closest upper arm—!
Lorelei’s breath shortened, but she couldn’t look away from those flexing muscles. Of course she’d seen plenty of well-built men before—but this was different. This wasn’t just another random bedmate.
This was Gerard de Moireul, whom she’d been studying and teasing and battling for years without any long-term satisfaction.
This was the one impossible man who challenged her in every way …
and even the scratches left on his arms by last night’s thorns added an extra layer of animalistic appeal, tugging at something deep inside her.
As she watched him steadily rise and fall, again and again, with relentless purpose, she swept the tip of her tongue over her upper lip, fighting to contain the blaze mounting within her.
She felt like a cat preparing to pounce on the most delicious, irresistible bowl of cream she’d ever witnessed …
Cream that was off-limits and entirely forbidden!
Ugh, this was entirely unacceptable.
She couldn’t even stop a noisy huff of frustration from escaping her lips, because apparently, all of her poise and self-control had utterly failed to wake up with the rest of her today.
At her uncontrolled sound, Gerard finally turned. Holding himself effortlessly still mid-push-up, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. His keen amber gaze passed over her face … and then, to her horror, she saw his lips twitch. “Not a fan of early mornings, I take it, Your Majesty?”
Oh, gah. Her long, sleep-tangled curls were an absolute disaster, weren’t they? She hadn’t even realized until now that they were rumpled in all the wrong directions. And there, that sticky feeling just to the left of her lips—Sylvana save her, had she drooled while she was sleeping?
Fortunately, it was not actually possible to die of mortification, as Lorelei had learned from experience many years ago.
Sucking in a deep breath, she beamed at him as she shook back her hair and swept a quick, sparkling glamour over her face to hide every imperfection.
“Why, darling, whatever do you mean? I’ll start loving mornings most of all from now on, if I’m to be greeted by a show like this each time I wake. ”
“Mm.” As he completed his last push-up, Gerard turned his face away, but not quite quickly enough to hide his expression.
Had that been a smirk pulling at the lips of a man whose face ordinarily rivaled stone for its rigidity?
Even phoenixes could burn with mortification. Lorelei made a furious mental note not to allow General de Moireul to share her tent ever again. Last night had been a rare lapse in judgement, brought on by how raw she’d felt after sharing too many painful old secrets …
And by how foolishly—childishly—she’d wanted the security of his sleeping presence there beside her, where she could see for herself that he was safe.
She would not allow it to happen again.
Ready to conquer the day and be rid of all such weaknesses for good, she gave him a firmly expectant look. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a moment of privacy to ready myself?”
“Of course.” Moving unhurriedly, he raised himself to his feet in a rolling stretch, and Lorelei did her best not to drool in waking life to complete her humiliation.
As he pulled yesterday’s half-shredded fae tunic back over his head, his muffled voice emerged from underneath.
“If you wouldn’t mind lowering the gates first?
I’d prefer not to battle any more thorns until today’s official challenges begin. ”
Gates—? Oh, yes. Lorelei gave a gracious wave of one hand and released the lattice of branches and thorn-stemmed roses that had surrounded them all night long, along with the lingering spell of silence that had kept them safe from any eavesdroppers. “If you insist.”
With the withdrawal of all her shields, the tent was abruptly flooded by the full clamor of the waking camp outside.
Any ordinary human man would have flinched at that sudden shift, but of course, General de Moireul refused to give her any such satisfaction.
Instead, he responded with a small, approving nod, as if it were exactly what he’d expected from her.
Was she becoming boringly predictable?
Smiling brightly and full of rage, Lorelei watched him step through the raised flap of the tent door. Holding perfectly still, she watched the door fall closed behind him.
Then she exploded into action.
The portal she drew in the air was shamefully basic, but she didn’t have time for any ornamentation.
She dived through that rough hole in the world like a salmon lunging upstream, and she landed in the gas-lamp-lit burgundy evening parlor of her Balravian hunting lodge, where she could finally let out all of her feelings.
“Arrgggh!”
“So, it’s still going that well with the Golden Beacon, is it?” Snorting, Lorelei’s cousin Katrin released the hilt of her sword and turned away from her watchful stance by the darkened window.
Snowflakes brushed softly at the glass outside, while a warm fire crackled in the fireplace. Two glasses of red wine sat on a curving side table by a deck of cards, but both of them looked untouched.
From the nearby couch, Ilse gave Lorelei a sweet smile. “That was quick. Have the two of you won the tournament already?”
“No, we have at least two days left. But—Ilse?” Lorelei blinked, distracted by the pile of lacy napkins being sorted on her second lady-in-waiting’s lap. “Are you preparing to host a party here while I’m gone?”
“No, silly. I’m just getting the lodge ready for when your friends arrive.”
“My friends?” Lorelei’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Darling, you aren’t tipsy on frog spit right now, are you? You must know I haven’t invited anyone.”
“Well, someone’s battering at the spells that hide this lodge,” Katrin said flatly, “and for all of our sakes, the two of us hope it’s one of your fellow Queens of Villainy, not a corps of the Emperor’s Gilded Wizards.”
“Ugh.” Sagging, Lorelei grimaced at both of those equally daunting options. “It can’t be Imperial Gilded Wizards. They’re only called in under the command of the high general—and Gerard isn’t there to do it.”
“So it’s ‘Gerard’ now, is it? Already?” Katrin turned to Ilse’s couch with a sigh.
“I told you!” Ilse gave her a mischievous look from under her lashes. “I win. That means another swordfighting lesson for me.”
“Really?” Katrin asked with heavy meaning, leaning closer. “After everything that happened last time?”
“Save your flirtation for later,” Lorelei commanded. “Right now, I need help urgently.” Yes, time passed differently in the fae world, but she still ran a fine balance when it came to how long she could afford to remain here.
“Of course.” Katrin straightened immediately. “Only tell us what to do.”
When Lorelei landed back in her tent ten human minutes later, she found it still empty, to her relief, but the clamor and commotion in the camp outside had lessened to a worrying extent.
Luckily, it hadn’t yet disappeared entirely—so she hadn’t lost all of her sense in the past day.
When she sailed out the door, clad in a shimmering rose-pink and gold concoction made of scandalously layered strips that combined eroticism with comfortable ease of movement, she met Gerard waiting just outside, his strong back turned to the door, his legs planted in a guarding position, and his watchful gaze scanning their rapidly emptying surroundings.
“Very impressive,” she said warmly as she eyed him up and down. “But oh, dear, that poor, ruined tunic does rather lessen the effect, doesn’t it? Fortunately, we should have at least ten more minutes before the first trial begins. Why don’t you take your turn changing outfits now?”