Chapter 26 Isi #2
That made his mouth twitch. “Of course not. It’s only dust in your eyes at that exact moment.”
“Exactly.” I thought about what I could share and what I couldn’t.
“I paint and draw sometimes. Badly. I’m not being modest. I’m truly awful.
But I like doing it anyway. I use whatever I can find.
Berry juice, charcoal pencils, even crushed petals I soak in oil until their colors bleed.
It never comes out right, but I like making things, even if they’re not very good. ”
“I think there’s something honest in that. Most people only make what they believe can come out perfect. They don’t know how to love something they can’t control.”
His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say.
“I collect things,” I went on after a pause, my voice hesitant.
“Small things, mostly. Stones with white rings around them. Only if the line goes all the way around, though. Never only partway. They bring luck, my mother used to say. And feathers. Bits of glass that have been smoothed down by rivers or time. They don’t mean anything, not really.
But sometimes the most imperfect things can be the richest treasure. ”
He stared toward the flames, the reflection flickering in his eyes. “The overlooked things. The ones no one else sees value in.”
I blinked. “Yes.”
“Maybe because they remind you of something. Or someone.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He met my eyes. “Maybe you collect what you are. Not something broken, but something shaped by time, softened by hardship. A thing discarded that still catches light.”
No one had looked at the pieces I’d hidden and called them beautiful. No one had made me feel seen without stripping me bare. His words slid under my skin like they belonged there.
I didn’t ask if he talked like this with others because I didn’t want to know. But something in his voice made me think he didn’t.
“I like that about you,” he said.
Warmth bloomed in my chest, both wonderful and terrifying. I liked this version of him too, the one who saw things clearly, who didn’t push or pry or mock. The one who sat with me in the firelight and asked about who I was, not who everyone thought I must be.
And it was a problem. Because now, he didn’t feel like the enemy at all.
I didn’t know when the silence turned from charged to unbearable.
We were still sitting too close on the sofa, my legs brushing his. The fire had burned down low, casting everything in copper and shadow, but he didn’t move to light torches.
His eyes were on me—no, in me—as if he could read thoughts I hadn’t dared whisper. The world felt breathless, narrowed to the curve of his shoulder, the twitch of his jaw, and the way his gaze moved to my mouth and lingered there.
“You surprise me,” he said quietly, his voice husky.
I swallowed. “Why?”
“You make me want to ask questions I have no right knowing the answer to.” His eyes found mine again. “And you make me want to hear the truth.”
He leaned in, slowly, giving me time to retreat.
I didn’t. Even if I’d wanted to, I wasn’t sure I could’ve moved. My body felt caught, strung between a heartbeat and breath, between fear and something perilously close to longing.
His hand came up to rest against my cheek, and his thumb traced across my skin.
“If I kiss you now,” he asked, “will you regret it?”
Yes, I thought. And no.
And fates, please.
I leaned toward him while my mind screamed for me to run. The war in my blood told me this was dangerous, stupid even. But I was tired of feeling cold, tired of being made of stone. I didn’t want to be strong in this moment. I wanted to feel.
Wanted him.
Not the king. Not the rebel. Just Trew.
If regret was the cost, I’d pay it in full.
I was all tension and heat and second thoughts. But he was steady. Soft, somehow, in a way that made my heart stutter.
When I didn’t pull away, he closed the last breath between us.
And he kissed me.
The beginning came slow. Testing. His mouth brushed mine, feather-light, giving me one last chance to change my mind. Then he deepened the kiss. His lips tasted of the sweets he’d savored almost as much as he appeared to be savoring me.
I exhaled into him, gliding my fingertips across his unbandaged skin.
He was softer than a hard man should be.
I’d craved this so much.
His other hand slipped around my waist, dragging me onto his lap.
With a growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine, he claimed everything I was and everything I would ever possess. I wasn’t prepared for how good this would feel or how much I’d want more of whatever he might offer.
His fingers slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head.
My whole body lit up. A low, simmering ache curled through my belly. The kiss didn’t rush. It consumed. It unfolded, coaxed, and teased. I didn’t notice when I shifted to straddle his thighs, only that the new closeness let me feel his breath against my throat, his stiffening cock beneath me.
When he finally broke away, his lips brushed the corner of my mouth like he couldn’t bear to end this.
I released a needy sound, a catch of the throat as I slid my fingers around his nape and dragged his mouth back to mine.
He devoured me. Turned and laid me on the sofa and caged me with his thick forearms and deliciously decadent body.
And I let him do it. This was everything I’d craved and everything I never knew I needed.
Until I remembered who I was kissing and what he might’ve done.
The rebel king.
The ruler of this land who stole our children.
The man who—
I jolted back into myself fast. He must’ve sensed it because he lifted his head. So much heat in his eyes.
“Let me up,” I said.
His gaze shuttered. And he shifted off me, his expression flashing to confusion in a single breath.
I was already up, rushing away from the sofa like it had burned me.
No. Trew had burned me.
“I—” My voice wouldn’t work. My lips still buzzed, traitorous and tender from his kiss.
“Wait—”
I didn’t. Couldn’t.
My pulse roared in my ears as I rushed from the parlor, my boots silent on the polished stone floors. The hall was dim, moonlight slanting through glass, and I could barely see. But I didn’t stop. Not even when I clipped my shoulder on a doorway and hissed through my teeth.
I ran until I reached my chamber.
My shaking hands fumbled the latch, then fumbled when I closed the door behind me. I turned the lock with a sharp click, then swiveled and slumped against the wood, my eyes wide, my chest heaving.
Darkness encased me. Safe. Mine. Except it wasn’t. It never would be.
I traced a fingertip across my lips that still tingled. My skin hummed from where he’d touched me.
I’d kissed someone I was supposed to see as the enemy.
And I’d wanted to.
My knees trembled as I slid down to the floor and stretched my legs out in front of me, my heart pounding like a warning bell.
Under all the panic, something quieter stirred. Something forbidden.
Longing.
I curled my knees to my chest and did my best to forget how his mouth had felt against mine.
How I’d melted into his arms like I belonged there.