Chapter 50 #3
“Of course.” His eyes flashed molten, and he pressed closer, tipping her chin up.
“I’ve lost so much, Emmeline. My family, my sanity—but you are the one thing I don’t feel like is truly gone, no matter how far you drift.
No matter how much you tell me we aren’t good together or how much time passes.
I’m torn in pieces every day because I know it would be better for you—for everyone—if I walked away.
If I let myself die in this tournament. But I can’t get myself to do that if it means you’re in another man’s arms. It’s…
it’s unnatural. It makes me sick to think about, and I’m so twisted up between those two realities. ”
They were both on the brink of insanity when it came to one another.
Emmeline had been so controlled all her life. With her magic, her secrets. And this—this desire coursing through her—was another thing she had to control.
Last time she’d slipped up, when he’d made her come in the tunnels beneath the city and they’d stolen that moment alone, he’d gotten stabbed and poisoned immediately after. It was her lesson.
If she gave in now, she’d only doom him again.
Her breath shuddered out of her, silver irises burning to her soul.
“We only ruin each other,” she exhaled, so close her lips nearly brushed his.
Those words froze him. Had one infuriating corner of his mouth hooking up. Her heart pounded traitorously as Roremar shook his head, dark waves drooping into his eyes. “You see the problem with that, Huntress, don’t you?”
She licked her lips. “Problem?”
“All these days since I arrived in the capital, you’ve been saying we aren’t good, we can’t do this, we ruin one another. But not once have you told me you don’t want this.”
It was a challenge, sparring with their words as they had when they first met, only now there was so much more at stake.
She’d nearly lost him a few nights ago. She couldn’t get distracted again.
Not by how his body pressed against hers or how his breath warmed her cheeks.
Not by the thrumming in her chest or the way the silver in his eyes weakened her knees.
Forcing derision into her voice, she whispered, “I don’t want this.”
He heard the lie. She knew he always would.
Roremar pressed closer to her, pushing up the layers of her dress so his hands landed on her thighs. She gasped, legs closing around his hips reflexively, and his grip tightened. His mouth skimmed up her neck, stopping beside her ear. Without thinking, she tipped her head to give him access.
“Your lips say that, Huntress, but your body says otherwise.” His thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin on her inner thighs, dusting over the crescent scars peppered there.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
“Tell me to stop, Emmeline, and I will.” His words were rough. “Convince me you don’t want this, and I’ll leave you alone no matter how fucking wrong it is.”
There was no coercion in his voice, only brutal honesty. At least one of them was being honest.
“I—”
She couldn’t get the words off her tongue; they lodged in her throat, her magic screaming.
Long, deft fingers stroked up her thighs, gently teasing the lace against her center.
Her hips rolled, seeking. She was balanced precariously on the edge of the well, but she didn’t care.
All she could think of was how it would feel if Roremar pushed aside her panties, how labored his breath would become as he parted her and watched his fingers bring her to ruin.
She ached for him, more with each teasing stroke.
“What do you want, Emmeline?” he asked, still not looking away from her eyes. Still not truly touching her until she said so.
“Yes,” she breathed. “No,” she contradicted immediately, unsure what argument she was trying to make anymore. If she was even answering his question.
All she knew was that each drag of his fingers had starfire exploding along her vision. Had something ancient buried deep within her pulling tight, to the point where she thought it might kill her if she didn’t give in.
“What should I do?” Roremar asked.
Emmeline’s eyes slipped closed, her legs falling open wider, begging.
“Eyes on me.” He waited for her. “You know what you like. I’ve seen you do it. Now, tell me what you want, Huntress.”
But that was the Fatesforsaken point. The one that sobered her up from his sinful influence. What she wanted and what she was allowed to have were two entirely different things.
She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to give him that small piece of hope. But hope was dangerous.
And if she pressed her lips to his—if she broke that rule—one kiss would never be enough for either of them.
Emmeline paused for a breath. Only a breath to memorize every inch of his expression, the scars she’d fixated over too many times to count, the shape of his eyes and fullness of his bottom lip, the way his heavy, restrained breaths tumbled over it and into her.
And then, she said the word that would break them both. “Stop.”
Her heart shattered. As she stood among the bloody shards, she cursed this city, cursed the Chancellor and his tournament, the competitors fighting for her hand, and the Fates themselves for giving her this man and then taking him away.
The war inside her must have played on her face.
It flashed through Roremar’s eyes.
“Stay with me, Huntress,” he pleaded.
I can’t, she almost said. But it wasn’t enough. So, she let herself break instead. “I don’t want to.”
The acceptance was visible in his solemn nod.
Roremar’s forehead dropped against hers. “I’m sorry this is how it is.”
The understanding lodged a knot in her throat. He truly thought this was what she wanted because of his Fate tie. And while it was her lies that convinced him—her promise to the stars and the covetous need this city had for her magic that kept him away—she blinked back tears.
“As much as I hate to interrupt,” Perry’s voice drifted to her as he walked out of the grapevines, “time is up.”
Roremar narrowed his eyes, rearranging Emmeline’s skirt. “How long have you been there?”
“You don’t want to know.” Perry looked at her, hazel eyes thick with sorrow. “Emmeline?”
He held out a hand, but before Roremar released her, he pressed one lingering kiss to her forehead. That small act nearly undid her more than any of his sinful touches had, but she strode forward and looped her arm through Perry’s.
And Roremar…
He finally let her go.