Chapter 8
The king’s eyes widen to comic proportions as I bring him within inches of myself. The breath he drags in is sharp enough to ruffle my hair, as if his first form is suddenly here in all its size and power.
“You can draw the water within someone,” he says, his voice hushed. Awed. He looks as astounded to be controlled as I am to be doing it.
Mother would say I’m losing my head, that I’m lowering all my defenses like a fool. I agree, and still I barrel forward.
“Yes, I can.”
My pulse, already racing, quickens further as he searches my eyes, for what I don’t know.
“You could make someone do anything you like,” he says.
“I could.”
To my surprise, his mouth curls with delight.
Water drawing is a gift—those words are ingrained in my heart and mind.
It’s a gift that also needs protection, and reluctant student that I sometimes was, I honed the ability to do so to a razor-sharp edge under my mother’s tutelage.
Never, since my power awoke, has someone been able to wrest control from me.
The king does it as easily as snapping a thread.
One moment, I hold him firm, and the next, his hand is reaching behind me to grip the back of my neck
“How did you—?” I gasp.
But he’s already silencing me with his mouth on mine.
Every thought, every word I would have said flies from my head, leaving only him, his lips forceful and hungry, his hand searing as he draws me nearer.
More than once I wondered if my own lips would know what to do when the time came, and thank the Maker of the Stars, they do. Desire—heady, intoxicating, and completely foreign—throbs through me as his lips slide against mine and my mouth moves in rhythmic answer to his demand.
When his tongue finds mine, a moan escapes me, wholly without my permission, and I pull away, mortified.
“Don’t,” the king rumbles, and seizing my face with both hands, he crushes my mouth against his, and releases his own sound, a long, deep groan rife with need that sends a thrill coursing through me.
I ache to touch him, to be closer; I ache for things I have no name for, and only the sound of laughter from someone walking by outside prompts a momentary return of rational thought.
“Wait,” I breathe, drawing back for air while clinging to my dwindling reason. “Wait.”
“Why?” he grinds out, but when I lift a hand to his face, he stills.
“Tell me,” I say.
His eyes shift back and forth between mine. “What?”
“Tell me you’re done with the threats. You said you would. Tell me you’ll allow me to come and go as I please, that you’ll keep your word.”
I see it then, his first form. I see it in the flame that sparks in his eyes, in the sharpening of his features. That part of him would rather I forget what he said, would rather wriggle his way out of the bargain we struck and hoard me in his room like some battle-won prize.
I can’t let him.
“Someone tried to shoot you,” he says.
“Then they’re unlikely to try the same method again.”
This doesn’t seem to please him.
“What if someone tries to take you from me?” he growls.
As if paramours are beating down my door. I’m tempted to laugh, but I don’t dare, not with that murderous look in his eyes. Instead, I trail my fingers lightly down his cheek. “Then you’ll come for me, won’t you?”
Shutting his eyes, he presses into my touch. “Always.”
I can’t help wondering what kind of fool I am.
I’ve only known this man, this dragon, a matter of days, and yet I wholeheartedly believe this.
Absurdly, I feel somehow…connected to him, as if our souls already knew one another before I spotted his gleaming horns from the deck of that ship. Perhaps I’ve been bewitched.
Perhaps I don’t care.
Leaning forward, I kiss him this time, my touch softer and less sure than his.
He’s a king and likely kissed dozens of women, while I know nothing save what I’ve been told by my mother and older sisters.
They covered the workings, yes, but not what to do when you’re trying to keep your head about you, and the one you’re kissing lifts his hands to touch you with all the delicacy of a priceless gem, and you feel as if you’re going to sink into an endless pool of desire, and—
Someone clears their throat.
I startle back, fully aware that my face is on fire. Rally stands at the tent’s entrance, his expression carefully blank. The king scowls at him.
“Can you not see she’s kissing me?” This he says as if his guard set out to deprive him of some indescribable new treat.
“I’m afraid I didn’t, Your Majesty.”
I lift my eyes just long enough to shoot him a grateful look.
“What is it then?” the king asks.
“You have another challenger.”
So soon? I’m shocked, but the king only throws his head back in a groan. “Tell him to come back tomorrow.” He leans in as if requesting I start kissing him again.
“It’s a wyvern,” Rally says. The movement is likely intended to be subtle, but I mark the way his eyes flick my way and back again.
There’s an immediate shift in the air, like the brewing of a storm.
“Who?” the king says.
“Seltzen.”
Unsurprisingly, the name means nothing to me. The king’s jaw ticks. “Does he fight for himself or Lord Tallin?”
“He didn’t say.”
The king rises with deadly grace. “I apologize, Princess,” he says, “but I must go see to this.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
His pupils shrink to inky black slits. “I’d prefer you stay here.”
I lift my chin. “And I’d prefer you keep your word.”
Rally coughs into his fist.
The king continues his menacing glare, and while it no doubt is fearsome, I find it hard to be afraid while I can still feel the softness of his lips on mine.
Finally, with a snarl, he turns to Rally. “Are her guards still in position?”
“Yes,” Rally says. “They remain where she left them.”
What? They’re still standing there? It’s been hours.
“Bring them to me,” the king says.
Rally bows and is gone. I scurry to my feet and seize onto the king’s sleeve, all my boldness gone in my worry for them. “Soren, please, don’t be angry with them. I gave them no choice. They followed your orders. I just—”
A sound of surprise escapes me as he grasps my hips and presses me against the tent pole at my back.
“Say it again.”
I can’t say how I know what he wants, but I look into those ravenous eyes and whisper, “Please.”
His fangs flash out at me in a grin. “I’ll consider it.” He glances up in mock contemplation before leaning in. “For a price…”