36. The Duchess & The Thief
The Duchess Torren just hadn’t expected to be so affected by Cypress, curled into his side like a sleeping kitten.
Torren’s attention was entirely focused on the places where their bodies were meshed together, the weight of her thigh draped across his lap, her fingers half curled under the lapels of his shirt.
Soon, he would need to wake her so that they could dress for the ball. But, for just a little while longer, Torren could enjoy the quiet peace of the carriage ride and the sleeping beauty curled into his side.
The mother only knew if he would get the chance again.
After he and Cypress stole the scepter, things would get… complex.
Torren wasn’t even sure if he would be able to carve his heart out of his chest to replace the Old One’s.
His plans could all go to shit. He might end up unleashing the Hunt without a leader, which would all but ensure everyone's destruction. Or things might go as planned: he would stab the heart of the Old One, replace it with his own, and take control over the Hunt to kill Caelith.
And, she could hate him for it. She’d have every right to, but even so…
Torren couldn’t help but hold onto some hope that she would understand. That Cypress would see the reason behind his actions and not hold a grudge against him.
She would have access to Eobbaara regardless of her feelings on his plans, but Torren had grown accustomed to her constant presence in his life. He didn’t want that to change.
A series of knocks sounded on the roof in a pattern from the driver.
Three to signal the Keep was in sight.
Torren rapped his knuckles on the roof in response– two to stop.
As the carriage slowed, Torren ran his fingers through her hair– just once, before tapping Cypress lightly on the shoulder.
“Lass,” he murmured, trying not to startle her awake.
Cypress mumbled something unintelligible before snuggling deeper into his side.
Torren’s blood rushed.
“Lass, it’s time to wake up,” he tried again.
“Five more minutes,” she grumbled, her thigh ever so close to the rising tent at the front of his pants.
He would give her all the time in the world, if only they weren’t who they were, set on a course that would likely separate them for good.
“Duchess, as much as I love you wrapped around me like this, we do need to get changed.”
As predicted, that woke Cypress up. She sprang away from him in a rush, scooting back on the bench with a flush crawling across her skin.
“Good evening,” Torren drawled, still reclining across the benches, hand propped behind his head.
“You,” Cypress started, then cleared her throat. "Did you get any sleep?”
Torren shrugged. "Some."
“Why did you let me sleep then?”
He smiled. “Why not? We need to be comfortable around each other.”
Torren’s heart raced, but the throbbing in his pants was more distracting.
Her eyes narrowed on his face, then bounced down his body. Then, a wicked grin stretched across her face.
Torren didn’t have time to react before she was leaning back over him. The lengths of her hair draped across his chest. Brown and green mismatched eyes, framed by thick lashes, peered down at him.
His throat went dry.
Her arms braced on either side of his head on the rear wall, filling his nose with her scent.
“Are you not comfortable around me, Thief?” she murmured.
Torren watched the curve of her lips as she spoke, and it was all he could do not to pull her down to his lips.
“I never said that,” he countered, knuckles white on the bench.
The carriage lurched to a halt, causing Cypress to lose her balance, wobbling above him.
Fuck it.
Torren hauled Cypress against him, pulling her flush over his body.
“Does it seem like I’m uncomfortable, Duchess?” Torren whispered huskily, only a hairsbreadth away from her neck.
When Cypress swallowed, her throat pressed against his lips for only a second, but Torren felt the shiver run through her body, her skin pebbling beneath his hands.
“I,” Cypress started, and moved to push off of him.
Torren kept her pinned in place with his hands on her hips.
She cleared her throat.
Torren grinned.
“I think we’ll do just fine at the ball,” Cypress finished, her tone brooking no argument.
Torren loosened his grip on her hips a fraction and said, “I was thinking the same thing.”