Chapter 61
After she’s done with Helina, Nizzara enters the hallway looking exhausted. Her eyes find mine, and I expect her memory to flash of their lessons, but nothing comes. Her mind is blank, and her desires are tragically silent.
“A master already?” I say.
She offers a half-smile then gazes down the hallway, swaying on her feet. “Hardly,” she breathes. “But I’m ready to go.”
After what happened with Garret, I wouldn’t be surprised if her body is still in shock. Cold, dark rage sinks through me all over again. He planned to kill her after.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say.
Her eyes fall on my new shirt over my chest, and she frowns before glancing back toward Helina, her mind and desires still blank.
The silence is too loud. I didn’t realize how much I live for her bright snippets of memory. I foolishly hoped silencing her memories would suppress my need to reach out and touch her all the time, but damn it all, my hands still yearn for her. When she pulled that hot little stunt on my lap—
“Yeah, let’s go,” she says, pointedly looking anywhere but me.
This is for the best, I remind myself. I’m not good for her.
I lead us back, returning to my spirit form through the massive, writhing crowd so I’m not tempted to reach for her.
Acting on this pent-up ball of sexual tension that only exists when she’s around would be unfair to her. Especially when I’m still planning to kill her father. But as much as I should push her toward someone like Nightlight, who shows honor in his memories, I don’t want to.
I stare at her through spirit eyes. Her hair is down, her jaw poised to slice anyone in her way, and she’s still in my shirt. The thought of her wearing anyone else’s shirt has my spirit swirling in frigid, angry whirlpools.
Awful, selfish, and twisted, but it’s true. Garret was an extreme case, but I know I won’t be able to stand seeing anyone else’s hands on her.
When we make it to the garage, I open the car door for her. This time, I don’t miss the tremble in her hands. How had I missed it before?
Because I”m a realms-damned idiot. That’s why. I materialize into the driver’s seat.
“Fast or slow?”
“Fast,” she whispers, buckling her harness.
I admire the hell out of that answer.
I drive fast, but careful.
When we return to the castle, we sneak back to her room in complete silence, her wrapped in her cloak and me in my spirit form.
No words. No memories.
Once we make it back to her room without any run-ins, she breaks for her closet and emerges in a long-sleeved nightgown that stops high above her knees, keeping her sinful legs in perfect view.
“You should leave. Liha will be returning at dawn for our next duel.”
I turn for her balcony, ready and willing to give her space, until her control slips and her desires whisper to me.
“. . . to be comforted . . .”
“. . . to not feel alone . . .”
“. . . for Dae to stay . . .”
I stop and face her. Her brows are pinched, her lips in a scowl as if she’s struggling to keep the guard up.
“I’ll go if you wish.” Realms, I want to touch her face. “After I do this.”
I close the distance to where she stands, and I hug her.
She stiffens at first, but quickly melts, burying her face into my chest. We stand like that in silence, me stroking her hair until she pulls her head back and wipes at her eyes. Warm, fierce eyes.
Any other time, they are like slicing black daggers, but when tears glisten around them, they are infinitely more dangerous, slicing through my insides. I wipe a tear with my thumb.
Fuck, I swore I wasn’t going to touch her face.
“What’s wrong?”
Stupid question. I know what’s wrong.
She was damn near raped and I—
She huffs but doesn’t pull away.
Broken images of Garret on top of her—kissing her—flash from her. She grits her teeth as if trying to shut the memories down, but I catch another glimpse of me walking away from her with Helina on my arm.
“I shouldn’t have left you.” Ice cracks in the air around me.
I cup her cheeks. Good hell, I really swore I wasn’t going to do that either, but I need her to know how sorry I am for leaving. Helina had found some piece of information about Lo, along with plans to kill Mazzar.
As much as Nizzara loathes her father, she doesn’t want him dead. But I do. And so do the rebels.
That’s my only condition I have before I turn my soul over to Nil. Her father has to go.
Because of what he’s doing to the kingdom, but also because of what he’s doing to her.
She knows he’s dangerous, but she’s so damn loyal and her heart is unwavering—Fuck. That makes me want to get on my knees and worship her.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she snaps up at me. “And you don’t need a celibate dragging you down at high-end establishments.”
She shoves away, but I keep my hold on her hand and gently tug her back. Gentle enough for her to break away if she wants to. She allows me to guide her back.
“You’re the furthest thing from a celibate I’ve ever seen.”
I want to tell her how weak my knees are right now, that when she has tears in those eyes, I want to rip whoever put them there to shreds. I want to tell her how I’ve seen and heard the memories and desires of thousands. I’ve been married. I’ve even been in love before, but no one is her.
That’s what I want to say, but instead, I find myself saying, “Will you talk to me?”
Her eyes search mine, those god-sent lips pinch into a firm line, then bend down. “It’s not so much his attack,” she whispers. “It’s just—”
She stops and looks down at her hands so I can’t see her eyes.
I gently tilt her chin up, a protective beast roaring to life in my chest. It takes effort to keep the ice to a minimum. “What is it, then?”
Her cheeks explode with red. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”
I shake my head, drawing blanks as to what in the world could cause such a flush in her cheeks. I swear I got there in time. He hadn’t—
I breathe. “Nizzara. If it bothers you, it is not stupid.”
More red blossoms in her cheeks. Realms, she’s gorgeous.
“It’s just—it’s not how I wished my first kiss to be,” she whispers. And her neck goes crimson, crawling to her chest. “It’s stupid, but I might not have a say in who I marry. This was the only thing that could be mine. He stole it from me.”
If I were alive, my heart would be thundering in my chest. Instead, a deep ache begins swallowing me from the inside.
I dip my head toward her. My logical—honorable—mind begs me not to do it, but the words come out anyway. “What about your second kiss? I hear they are immensely better.”
Her breath hitches and her still-wet eyes peer into mine beneath long, dark lashes.
“I don’t want a pity kiss.” Her words are sharp, but she’s biting that full bottom lip of hers.
“I don’t do pity kisses.”
Meaningless. That’s all she wants. I can give that to her.
Something in the back of my head warns me I can’t—not with her—but it’s quickly silenced when her eyes fall to my lips, her breath sweet and unsteady.
“What about Helina?” she says. “I would never do that to another woman.”
It hits me like an idiot standing in front of a speeding car as her memory plays out, and I’m suddenly smiling. Uncontrollably smiling because there’s that honorable heart of hers, and fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
I’m still smiling as any and all restraint pops loose from me. I tilt my head to hers and her desires go absolutely, deliciously traitorous.
“I am not with Helina.”
My grin only gets wider when I feel her ravenous, blinding jealousy in her memories of working with Helina.
“But the dancer said—”
I shake my head. “That was Red, the owner before me. He had a sort of obsession with her. They all think I’m him. Besides, Helina is with Jasper.”
Her eyes search mine. “You swear?”
“I swear.”
A smile parts those full lips.
I slowly guide her back toward the wall beside her closet archway. Her reservation was out of respect for another woman, and that is just one of a thousand things that already has me rock hard for her.
“So,” I say, “a hot, meaningless kiss?”
Her chin tilts up, bringing those dangerous lips close to mine.
To hell with logic. I slowly pin her against the wall. My lips brush hers, teasing, but it’s fucking electric.
She tilts her chin higher, her body warm and pliable beneath mine.
I cup my hand on her cheek, brushing my thumb along it while my other hand finds the curve of her waist, our lips still teasing, her breath hot on my mouth.
“Fast or slow?” I whisper.
She bites her lip in a way that tells me she knows exactly what it does to me, then says, “Both.”
I nearly growl, “You cruel little beast.” And I kiss her.
Her lips are silk moving against mine, her sinful body pressing tight against me through the thin gown.
Utter. Blissful. Torture.
She wraps her arms around my neck, her fingers making pleading strokes on the back of my neck. My hands slide to her hips, pulling her harder against me.
Her lips demand mine.
Her desires demand me.
Without breaking the kiss, I scoop her up.
She wraps her soft bare legs around my center, and I smother a curse. The feel of her . . .
I spin us for the bed and lay her back to the plush comforter as the kiss deepens, becoming urgent. She bites my lip and arches her back.
My hand trails her thigh, still wrapped around me. She moans softly.
Rock, fucking hard.
Her desires turn very traitorous, and my hands freeze. I’m breathless when I say, “You’re betrothed.”
Impenetrable steel enters her gaze. “I do not choose him. I will die in the duel ring before I’m married against my will.”
Such a stubborn, spiteful little beast. I pin her arms to the bed. “No one will fucking touch you in the ring.”
She lifts her chin in that defiantly fierce way of hers and says, “I belong to no one, Dae.”
I groan, but my hands are already moving away. “I told you. I will not take any part of you.”
I straighten and her legs unlock around me.
She frowns and sits up. “What if I want to give it?”
My head moves toward that pout of hers as if my lips belong there, but I stop at that tantalizing place where her breath mixes with mine. “No,” I say.
“You can’t honestly believe that this”—her lips tickle mine—“has anything to do with my soul, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Her brows pinch and hurt flashes. “You don’t want me?”
“I told you. Wanting is not the problem here.” I kiss her again, softly, pressing my hips into her thigh so she can feel just how much that’s not the problem.
A ragged breath escapes her lips, and I almost give in, but one thought about her soul, her future, and the fact that I still plan on killing her father, who she loves, is enough to pull me back again.
“Brutal honesty?”
She nods, eyes wary.
“I don’t want to ruin your opportunity with Nightlight.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but before she can get a syllable out, I say, “My plan hasn’t changed, Nizzara.” Taking a breath, I do what my body is begging me not to, and I fully break away from her. “I’m still going to kill your father before Nil takes my soul back.”
The set of her lips harden as she scoots back. “He’s my father.”
I slide my hands into my pockets to keep them firmly to myself. “He’s possessed.”
Pain consumes her face. Her desires cry out, wishing he wasn’t. She wraps her arms around her knees. “I hate him, but . . . I don’t,” she says.
“He is a danger to you and your kingdom.”
Her eyes dart to me, her jaw flexing. “Your kingdom. Don’t give up so easily.” She folds her arms. “It’s extremely annoying when people do that.”
I smile, but it fades when I see the well of emotion behind her eyes, when her desires want me to live.
“I will not let you give up your freedom,” she grinds out. She’s so stubborn.
Warmth floods my chest. I sit beside her and my hands—those traitorous bastards—leave my pockets, pulling her into another hug. “I won’t let you give up your soul or ruin a future with the red, glowing Nightlight.”
She wiggles her head up at me and scoffs, silver in her eyes again. “Haven’t you learned that I do what I want?”
Cold sweeps through the room. “Not this time.” My arms drop away from her. “I better go.” Liha will be here soon to help her warmup for tomorrow’s duel, and she needs rest. “I have something to check on in the morning.” It’s such a small chance, but I can’t stop thinking about the tip Helina gave me on Lo.
Her brows furrow. “Check on what?”
I promised honesty. “I’m trying to find out what happened to my sister.”
An understanding fills her eyes. After a moment, she asks, “Will you stay the night . . . again?”
I could never tell her no when she is this vulnerable. Her expression is fortified, her body confident and unfazed, but her desires, the ones crying for my safety, my voice, and my closeness give her away.
The irony is painful. This whole time, I’ve wanted her trust, and now with those warm, trusting eyes still roaming my chest, I’d give anything for her not to trust or care for me. I’ve seen how her mind works when it comes to people she cares for.
I relent. “Only if you get some sleep.”
A beautiful smile finds her lips before she lays down on her pillow. I evaporate into my spirit form because the urge to touch her is unmanageable, and in this form, I can pretend I’m not holding her.
She sighs, goosebumps trailing her legs as if she can feel me around her and closes her eyes.
“So,” I say. “How was your second kiss?”
Her smile deepens and pink fills her cheeks. Either she allows me to see, or it slips from her mind, but she replays the memory of us kissing, and it’s so strong it startles me.
Her own hot pleasure rolls through me, eclipsing my senses as it flashes across my eyes.
Me holding her against the wall.
My hands trailing her.
Her fingers in my hair.
Then, the sudden fiery need when I pick her up and pin her to the bed.
“You know how it was,” she whispers back.
She’s still smiling when sleep finds her.