22. Princess Esemeray #2
Hours later, she was four glasses deep. She couldn’t be blamed: Rhidian was swift to refill, and it felt ill-mannered to decline.
Her mind spun, vision blurry, and she was certain if she stood, she’d keel over.
Even the couch she was sitting on seemed ready to swallow her whole.
She closed her eyes and embraced the fire kissing her skin.
It crackled and popped, singing her into a slumber.
The peaceful moment was quickly ruined by Killian.
“Are you one of those drunks who falls asleep on other people’s couches?” His voice was harsh.
She opened her eyes. Killian sat across from her seething. Her stomach plummeted. How long was he watching me? She scoffed. “Are you one of those people who have nothing better to do than watch and judge?” She glared. “And I’m not drunk,” she said, fighting her slur.
She had never been so drunk in her entire life.
Killian scowled, motioning to her. “You can hardly sit straight.”
“Your father’s couch is…comfortable,” Esemeray insisted, looking around for Riggs.
“He’s not in here.” Killian huffed, his hands tightening. “But you would have known that if you hadn’t dozed off into your own world.”
Esemeray straightened on the couch. “What is your problem with me?”
Killian stood, stalking toward her. “My problem is that you’re nothing but trouble.
I already have your sister to find.” He pointed a finger in her face.
“And now you’re parading around here like you own the place.
I don’t like it. Not. At. All. I will not have my family go down because you decided to fool around with my brother.
” He took one step closer. “Your pleasure isn’t worth his death. ”
Esemeray’s cheeks stained. She stood, attempting to keep her balance as she poked his chest, her finger meeting stone.
“You, Killian Whitlock, are an asshole and a poor excuse for a man.” Repulsion rolled through her body.
“Did you ever think to ask what happened to me? What my mother did to me? Who she took from me? The pain I had to endure being in that castle?” She yanked the neckline of her dress, revealing her scar.
Killian’s face went pale, the hard lines on his face softening. Even his brutal stare faded, not into something like surprise, but something like pity.
Pity she didn’t want.
“This is what she did to me,” she muttered. “Do not assume you know who I am or why I’m here.”
She had never willingly shown anyone her scar.
Never called anyone an asshole. But she had to make him understand.
Yes, she wanted to know Riggs more, yes, she wanted to find her sister, but more importantly, she felt safe, something she had not experienced once in her life and she wouldn’t let Killian ruin it.
Killian’s brows furrowed, his eyes searching hers.
Unable to look at him for a second longer, Esemeray turned on her heel, leaving Killian alone in his misery. The patio doors were open. She followed the trail of the cold night air and found Riggs outside with his father and Zander perched on the porch, gazing at the stars.
Esemeray sucked in a full breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
As if they heard her step out, Riggs turned, swaying toward her. “Hey, you. You made it just in time.” His words slurred.
Zander shouted, his breath reeking of rum, “Emmy, we missed you!”
Esemeray forced a smile. “I didn’t realize how long I’ve been gone.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Get over here, girl.” Zander approached with open arms. Her mouth turned to paper and suddenly she needed another drink.
Riggs' hand slammed Zander’s chest, halting him. “Go check on Killian.” The warning was evident in his tone.
A lazy smile formed across Zander’s reddened face, his eyes raking down her body like a doll he wanted to undress. “Sure.” He bit his lip. “But first?—”
“Come on,” Rhidian said, leading Zander away into the house.
“Sorry about him.” Riggs slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close, rum and evergreen enveloping her.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said sweetly, basking in his scent. “Do you always smell so good?”
One look in his hazy eyes and she knew he was drunk. Probably more than she was. Riggs' voice was rough, “Not as good as you.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, his fingers tangling in her hair. Her heart skipped. She didn’t miss the “fuck” he just breathed out as he pulled away.
Riggs hummed, his eyes searching hers. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know…” She chewed on her lip, her pulse thrumming. “What are you going to do?”
“Many things…” His hand slid up her back, up her neck. “Many, many things…”
She gulped, realizing he was talking about something else entirely. She didn’t know what came over her as she replied, “What sort of things?”
A slow smile spread across Riggs' face. “That remains to be seen.” His hold tightened, his free hand floating toward her. “My gods, you are devastating.” He traced her jaw. “Truly.”
Her stomach fluttered.
And then his hand was sliding higher, cupping her cheek, and she leaned into his palm, leaning into his warmth. Craving it.
“Look.” He gently gripped her chin, positioning her face toward the sky, and whispered, “The stars…” his breath brushed her ear, “are shining for you.”
She took in the sky and the feeling of Riggs holding her. Slowly, she turned to survey him. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she was certain he’d kiss her. A foolish part of her waited for him to, but he made no move.
She finally said, “No, they are shining for you. Happy birthday.”