58
They were soon huddled into a shadowy alcove on the edge of a nearby ballroom.
Valine could see the chessboard floor and the decadent chandelier, dimmed with sparse candlelight, but she knew that the fixture would be illuminated by a luxmancer to a much brighter degree during a ball. Malik pulled the viridian drape of the alcove behind him and turned, then spun the knob on a small stained glass wall sconce, sending refractured scarlets and ceruleans across the small space. The alcove was used for trading secrets, salacious encounters, or simply to have a moment alone. The latter rarely happened as couples were wont to stumble into the curtained doorway, disrupting the entire point of solitude.
“I wanted to speak to you about the arrival of the prospective brides,” Malik began, a slight tone of wariness in his voice.
“What is there to talk about?” Valine questioned sharply. Fear curdled in her belly, a lead weight hovering in her throat, threatening to drop.
“How to plan this out. If we decide to do this, are you still going to act as their companion?”
“There is no if,” Valine said flatly. “You are doing this and selecting a bride. That is the way of the world and the way of the crown. How else will you be able to take on Runell?”
“It doesn’t have to be. And even if—it’s a false alliance.” Malik seemed genuinely confused. “It’s to take control of their kingdoms. I don’t want to marry any of them, but we agreed that I am giving the illusion.”
“And when they figure out you’re faking it all and fucking the help? I’m sure they’ll love that on the wedding day.” Valine bit out.
Malik drew his brows together in a frown. “There won’t be one, you know this.” He placed his hands on Valine’s upper arms, brushing sweet circles on the soft fabric. “What’s truly bothering you?”
Valine turned her face away, tears prickling. She swallowed thickly, staring at a shoe print on the wall. Hating herself. “You must do what is right for Adraali, including a strategic marriage. And while you may feel it is fake, they will not know it is false. They will fancy themselves in love with you. They will expect touches and gifts.”
“I don’t want to do this, and they can imagine all they wish, but I belong to you.”
“But what if you do fall in love with one of them?” She was letting her jealousy get the best of her, and it was ruining all her plans to drive him towards a bridal alliance and ultimately destroying Runell.
“I won’t.”
“It’s possible. I have heard they are all very beautiful.”
“What need do you see in inviting them still?” Malik demanded. Valine felt a wave of jealous insecurity rush through her, and she wanted to string words together in a desperate plea. But that was not for the good of Adraali. “We don’t need an outsider’s marriage, not anymore. We can solidify the alliances other ways—with Thycca, we can do so by not investing in Valencya’s university and purchasing shipments from Liesl’s apothecary.” Malik continued. “Ixaitha is already weakened by the aftereffects of the Tri-Region War, they’d be willing to do anything to establish themselves once again. And Dubon is content minding its own business, playing in its orchards and drinking mead—we have no quarrel with them.”
“It will not be acknowledged. It must be legitimate.”
Malik cocked his head. “I thought you understood this.” He tucked two fingers under Valine’s chin and brought her face up to his. “It’s a lot, and you know anything with them won’t be real—will not happen. I will not marry them.”
Fury ignited within her. “You’re putting your feelings above the needs of the kingdom. You need this for Runell to fall.”
“Valine, you can give that power to me by marrying me.”
Valine blinked in shock, feeling hope bloom warmly in her chest. “What?”
“You have the right name. You come from Runell. It’s the same tactic we imposed in Talloh.” His confusion was quickly shifting to irritation, but he hid it well beneath a veil of assurances. “Valine, I gave you that ring. I gave you the option, and you chose consort. You could’ve been my wife, and as much as I want it, I won’t push it on you.”
“It’s not the right move. The other brides are.” Her words were flat. She was trying to convince herself of this, and she was failing miserably. “The Desdemons won’t answer to me. I am outcasted—banished. I am not the daughter of a king like they all are.”
“You’re wrong. Choosing one of them would be the biggest mistake of my life. And the ring is an open invitation. You may choose to be my wife and queen at any time, but should you decide so, I will not let you go lightly.”
Malik began nipping at her jaw, drawing slow, sharp kisses along it, dipping to her throat and continuing there. She was intoxicated by the scent of black orchid and tobacco as he stepped toward her, into her, and pressed her to the wall. Valine’s hands instinctively went to his chest, trailing exploring fingers over his ridged abdomen.
She was losing her resolve to convince him against her. Against them. But why was she trying to fight it? She wanted him. But she also wanted vengeance. Was her wrath clouding her judgment? What would she be left with after Runell’s toll was paid? She’d be left with a yawning nothingness and nothing to fill it.
“You have no idea how much I would like to fuck my wife,” he murmured, and her legs turned jelly. Him speaking about her in the position of his spouse had wetness pooling between her legs. She was shocked at how much she enjoyed the words on his tongue. “You see, she makes this divine little sound when I lick her sweet pussy, and it’s the same sound she makes when I fuck her slow.”
Malik’s hand crept down to her breast, thumbing her peaked nipple. Her eyes rolled back, and her fingers clawed at the buttons of his shirt. She was being driven by instinct, thoughts clouded by his heady presence.
“Us…it complicates things,” she managed, trying to direct the conversation.
“It shouldn’t,” he murmured into her shoulder, kissing the curve of her neck. “I love you, and the others are just politics.”
“I cannot share you.”
“You will not.”
“We can’t do this,” she argued pitifully as he mouthed softly against her collarbone.
“We can. I can call off the bride’s arrival.”
“If you revoke the invitation without cause, it would be a great insult.”
“Then give me cause,” he riposted, punctuating it with a nip. “Marry me.”
Valine caught the gasp in her throat before she could let it out, but her heart was hammering, and her hands trembled on Malik’s abdomen. Fire and ice battled in her veins, hopeful panic rushing along through her. She felt like bliss, like ecstasy.
The King of Adraali proposed. To a necromantic assassin with the right name and the wrong parentage. But Valine could see very clearly in those vibrant, heavy-lashed, blue-gold eyes that stared up at her from her decolletage that he meant it, and he didn’t give a fuck about any of that.
“It’s too soon,” she rasped.
“Is it?” Malik kissed along her neckline. “We’ve known each other months, probably wanted each other for just as long. I knew I needed you the moment I met you.”
She wanted to say yes. Oh, all the daemons and saints, she wanted to say yes.
“Not yet,” she whispered. “After the ruse.”
Malik paused and brought his face up to Valine’s, looking her in the eyes as if he was seeing her soul through her dark brown depths. There was relief and glee in his gaze.
“Is that a yes?” he pressed, desire and anticipation bright in his eyes.
Valine hesitated. Weighing her desire for vengeance and her desire for this man. “Conditionally. Firstly, you must play along—enchant the brides and let them think you are serious about courting them. Second, we need to keep us secret. I do not want the brides catching wind of our relationship, so for the duration of their stay, I will wear the consort ring on my index finger. You must use your psychomancy or influence to cast doubt on any rumors of us from Talloh.”
Malik’s smile dropped a little at this, and Valine wanted to kiss that mouth. He evidently held some possessive traits, and rather than be objectionable to the fact, she found it rather endearing—and if she was completely honest, quite sexy, too.
“Anything else?” he asked sultry.
“Yes, when you ask me again, I want you on one knee.”
“Acceptable.” A wicked grin came over his face. “But let me make it up to you, and I’ll get on both knees now.”
Before Valine could protest, Malik dropped down and undid the corset-style ties on her pants, wiggling them down her hips. She was slightly swollen and sore from last night, but it was a pleasurable, sated ache. He bared her glistening sex and groaned with desire. She was sure he was rock hard.
Leaning forward, he kissed her right above her clit, and the slight brush of his slight beard against that tight bud made her moan and fist her hands in his hair. He slipped his nose along her pussy, his lips tracing the slit, and she could feel his breath against her. She wanted to cry out from the delicate pressure, from the wanting, from the teasing. When she felt his tongue, she arched and tipped her head back against the wall.
His tongue dipped between her, tasting her very center, stroking a hot trail through. When he came up to that little bundle of nerves he circled it with the tip of his tongue, moving in faster circles. She felt her hips buck in response, and Malik chuckled against her clit, rewarding her with a nip. She cried out, pushing his face closer to her. The movements became quick flicks of his tongue and gentle suction from his lips, alternating and building her up, letting her climb toward her climax.
A hand slipped beneath her top, and Malik’s fingers found her breast, squeezing a nipple with just the right amount of pressure that had her sensations heightening immeasurably. She began bucking her hips against Malik’s mouth, desperate for more, and when he pinned her to the wall with a forearm and scraped his teeth on that bud, she mewled.
“There’s that fucking sound,” Malik murmured against her wetness. “Make it again, love.”
She came hard and fast, Malik continuing to lick and stroke her through the orgasm, her legs trembling, knees weak. She steadied herself on Malik’s shoulder, breath heaving, sweat dampening her brow. When she came down from the high, Malik kissed between her thighs and slowly drew up her pants once again, tying them expertly, lifting his gaze to hers. His lips were wet from her sex, and she felt a twinge at her core from the sight.
“Am I properly forgiven?” Malik asked, husky.
“Quite,” Valine said, switching their positions and dipping down. “But now it’s your turn.”
She wasted no time, freeing Malik’s straining cock from his pants. He moaned as soon as it was released and groaned deeper when Valine set her lips to his length. She swirled her tongue around the tip, licking away his excitement, and bobbed her mouth along his proud member. Her hand was at the base of his shaft, pumping him in tandem. Relaxing her throat, she let him slide deeper into her mouth, her teeth grazing him as he slowly began to thrust into her. His hand fisted into her hair, and she hummed her pleasure at him taking his. Malik moaned again and increased his pace. His movements were filling her, her jaw aching, her tongue laving tirelessly.
“I love seeing your mouth on my cock,” Malik breathed, tilting his head back against the wall. She felt his fingers tighten, and she knew he was getting close. “Fuck, Valine.”
She took him almost completely out and then bobbed mercilessly on him, hand working in unison. Saliva was all over him, and her ministrations were making a mess of him. This made him lose control, and moments later, she felt the pulse in his length, and then warmth spread across her tongue as he moaned low in his throat. She swallowed as she took him through the last throes of his climax, gentling him as he spent himself.
When he was done, she tucked him away and returned their pants to their former position, smiling shyly as she did so.
Looking at him reassuringly, she removed her consort ring and slipped it to the other finger. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling, but it felt like a mix of loss and betrayal. It was the same look she watched pass over Malik’s face, but it wasn’t those feelings alone that showed. There was also understanding and devotion. They were united in another cause but remained loyal to each other. He was technically her fiancé, after all. And she was his.