29
Lotte accompanied us upstairs; her austere posture reminded me of the priestesses who climbed the steps of Aegel’s temples.
Aegel . . .
Would I ever really see it again? What about my family? Had they realized that something was wrong? That I was in danger?
Had they started looking for me? Or were they still punishing me?
What if it turned out that Master Roxior didn’t intend to return us to our kingdoms once he got his revenge?
I would not live a slave existence, killing for my Master and to survive; of this, I was sure. If Roxior didn’t keep his word, I would find a way to escape. Even at the cost of my life.
I felt Amlach’s probing gaze on me as we entered a long corridor at the end of the flight of stairs, lined with low furniture on which stood beautiful flower arrangements in colorful vases.
“You all right?” he asked.
I glared at him, but the smirk didn’t creep onto his face this time. I focused on the housekeeper’s wrinkled nape, regretting my rude reaction. He was also a prisoner like I was, and he was likely burdened by the same worries I had. I should not have treated him that way.
Lotte stood before a door halfway down the corridor and opened it, stepping inside. “This is your room. I suppose you’d like to rest after the night spent on the ground,” she went on as we looked around. “A maidservant will call you for lunch.”
The room was more comfortable than I had imagined, featuring amber walls, a desk by the window with amaranth curtains, and a wardrobe.
There was only one problem.
“There’s only one bed,” I exclaimed before the woman would leave.
She lingered on the threshold, glancing first at the mattress and then at us, as if she were mentally estimating the measurements. “It’s large enough for the both of you.”
“We can’t share the bed,” I said, offended. Spending the night on a layer of straw was one thing, but sleeping together in a real bed was out of the question. “We are not lovers.”
Why had she, like Escrain, assumed it?
The old woman remained expressionless. “Then I guess you soon will be,” she said.
She left, shutting the door and leaving us alone in what suddenly felt like a very, very small room filled with air as hot as magma.
Amlach turned to the bed—narrower than a double—and, with a huff, decided to sit on it, dragging me along with him.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, fighting against the inertia force to stand before him and not end up on the mattress.
My eyes widened as I saw him crossing one leg, and I was forced to follow his movements with my right arm while he took off his boot.
“Nauriel, we haven’t seen a bed in eleven days,” he replied in a nipping tone. “So shut up and come here.”
Before I could react, he caught me around the middle and pulled me to him with such force that I ended up straddling his lap.
I pressed my hands on his chest a moment before my forehead hit his, yet our noses touched.
His mouth opened, and his warm breath caressed my lips in a seductive invitation to part them.
I was about to command myself to get back right away when Amlach slid one hand under my blouse and ran it up my back.
The pressure of his palm on my naked skin made me gasp on his lips, and he dug his fingers into my shoulder with such an animalistic and thrilling sound that I leaned my head back slightly, moaning.
I felt the caress of his teeth on my chin, then Amlach put his other hand on my buttock and squeezed it so hard that . . .
I came to my senses.
Suddenly, I seized him by the throat with my left hand, and with my right, I clutched a fistful of his blouse, pressing my forearm against his collarbones.
“Get your hands off me,” I ordered, my gaze more lethal than a blade.
A grin spread across his face as he slowly raised his hands in surrender. “It doesn’t seem fair that you’re still on top of me, though.”
He subtly shifted his pelvis to emphasize it, and I felt the bulge in his pants pressing between my thighs, where a liquid heat had begun to pulse from a need I had never experienced before.
A need that scared me.
A need that every fiber of my being wanted to satisfy.
Blushing to the tip of my ears, I quickly got off Amlach’s lap and moved to the other side of the mattress.
He let out a sensual, deep laugh and lay on his stomach, sighing blissfully as he rested his head on the pillow.
I gave in as well. After removing my boots, I fell back on the pillow, closing my eyes to enjoy the wave of well-being that spread through my tense body. Amlach was right: It was truly nice to lie down on a bed again.
However, I couldn’t relax. As each second passed, my anger only grew stronger.
For millennia, I’d dreamed of finally finding the mate meant for me and no longer having to spend even a single night alone in my bed.
And now I was sharing it with a human. A person who had nothing to do with me, with whom I could never have a future.
Why had the Spirits drawn such a cruel and lonely path for me?
“Could you stop breathing like a dragon about to breathe fire?” Amlach said, already sleepy.
“No,” I growled, hating myself for the urge to turn toward him and wrap my leg around his hip, moving closer until my body was pressed against his.
“Great,” he grumbled, hugging his pillow.
I watched the curve of his biceps, thinking back at how they had contracted with each blow he had delivered to the guards.
Imagining them bulging up as, kneeling between my legs, he held me steady by the hips and . . .
“Come on, Elf,” Amlach whispered in a tenderer tone.
I blushed violently, fearing that I had been caught in the middle of my forbidden fantasy, but his eyes were closed.
“It’s not so bad here,” he added with a little smile.
That’s when I saw that some strands of my hair were on his pillow, and Amlach was rubbing one between his thumb and forefinger. So slowly, with kindness.
I was supposed to tell him to stop, that my hair was not his to stroke. But I didn’t.
Instead, I watched his face until I noticed he had fallen asleep. Then, finally calm, with my breathing synchronized to his, I closed my eyes and surrendered to sleep.