24
Each step down to the prayer hall worsened the tremble in my legs.
As per usual, I didn’t let my eyes lift until I was crossing the room, and as per usual, Voran was already watching me.
My stomach swooped from the collision of our eyes.
Slowly, he pulled the upside-down spoon from his curving mouth. Licking his lips, he leaned back against the wall behind him. His hair, bound in a loose braid again, draped over his shoulder and chest.
I gathered my own as I reached the table, ensuring the long strands hid his claw marks and the heat climbing into my cheeks.
What he’d said last night hadn’t left me alone for a moment, and not because he was wrong.
Because I wished he were.
Though being woken that way had terrified me, I couldn’t deny that I’d liked it. I liked it when he forced me to do things because, yes, I needed to feel as if I had no choice. Powerless. I needed it because, despite my fears, I liked surrendering to him.
More than liked it.
After returning to my room, I’d tossed and turned until what had seemed mere minutes before the waking bell. I’d expected the lack of sleep to render me useless in the gardens. My magic unfurled with surprising eagerness, causing the younglings to gasp and attempt to use their own.
Brushing dirt from my warm fingers, I dragged my weary feet back inside and upstairs to the east wing.
There, I selected a book and hid from view beneath a stained window in the last aisle. While waiting for lunch to end, I found it hard to sit still with only my unwanted truths for company.
I supposed I was just as much to blame as the Valadorn prince for ending up here.
Though I’d been forced into this, I had suggested teaching him how to read.
Not only had I thought it would keep me safe, but I’d naively assumed getting closer to him might reveal something useful about him or his uncle.
All it had done was reveal things about me.
“You were not at lunch.”
I looked up to find Voran leaning against the shelves at the end of the aisle.
Squeezing the book in my lap, I said, “My appetite seems to have vanished.”
“Lie.” He then walked down the aisle to where I sat against the stone wall.
I tensed as his large frame folded easily on the floor beside me, but quickly opened the book I’d chosen for him. It was filled with clever rhymes to better educate younglings about the dangers and benefits of certain flora.
“I’ll start,” I said.
I didn’t wait for a response. Quietly, though no one else was up here, I read the first three rhymes about berries before handing the book to Voran.
He took it. As he did, his other hand firmly took my wrist.
I stared at it. Then, finally, I looked at him.
My stomach bubbled as our gazes clashed. Dark and stormy, his eyes searched my own. “I don’t like this.”
“You said we could read up here, too.”
“Not that. Your quietness,” he said. “Your stillness.”
I swallowed and averted my gaze to his hand at my wrist.
He stroked it, and I failed at fighting a shiver when he leaned close to murmur, “But I really like how you taste.”
By the time I understood what he’d meant, he’d released me and started reading.
I struggled to concentrate on what he was saying. His accent, harshened by how low he spoke, lulled and lured my attention to his mouth. It wasn’t until he pressed his thumb to the edge of the time-speckled page and looked at me that I realized he couldn’t pronounce something correctly.
My skin threatened to heat. Looking at the page, I said, “Insidious.”
“Insidious,” he repeated slowly.
I nodded at him. “Good.”
A smile that resembled the word lit his eyes and kept my own on his face.
Deadly—his ability to be so alluring that I momentarily forgot who he was. This close, his cheeks and jaw seemed crafted from porcelain instead of stone, his lashes like charcoal wings. It was his perfect teeth and those eyes—the fangs and lupine glow—that reminded me not just who but what he was.
A predator.
I swallowed and took the book.
Voran didn’t speak until it was his turn. Even then, he just read and waited for me to correct two words he mispronounced before handing the book back.
But there was no relief. The heat he expelled had me crossing and uncrossing my legs. Once it was his turn again, I plucked at my tunic and moved my hair to one shoulder, raking my fingers through it as he read.
I didn’t know he’d stopped until he touched the marks he’d made at my neck. “You should never expose your throat to a wolf, broshklin.” Stroking the pinkened scratches, he said, “For even if it’s a trap, we will always bite.”
I suppressed a shiver. Breath sat tight in my chest, burning. I snatched the book and stood. “We need something more difficult.”
On unsteady feet, I walked to the section where I’d found the book.
“My mark looks good on you,” he said. “So good, I think you should keep it.”
“I cannot spend the rest of my days hiding your scratches.”
“So don’t.” There was a weighted pause before he drawled coarsely, “Make my cock throb even more by showing them off.”
I was glad I’d ceased walking, or I might have tripped. His lewd words weren’t the reason I didn’t respond. As I placed the book back, shame dripped like acid from my chest onto the fluttering in my stomach.
While I looked for another book, Voran said, “You did not sleep last night.”
“And how might you know?” I asked. “Did you sneak into my room again?”
A cluck of his tongue, then I heard him climb to his feet. “Besides the lack of care with your tone…” Fingers tapped on book spines as he said, “Your eyes are cloudy, as is your energy.”
I turned to find him perusing the top shelf. “It was too humid.”
“Every rotting day and night on this isle is too humid.” Plucking a book free, he scowled down at it. “Like being in one of those nauseating sweat rooms.”
Despite feeling exhausted—physically and otherwise—a tiny snort slipped out. “Why use a sweat room if you don’t like them?”
“Someone needed dealing with.”
My amusement withered. “Oh.”
Voran shifted his scowl to me. Then shook his head and placed the book back. “You are tormented by what I said.”
I scoffed. “I’m not tor—”
“You also think staying out of my room will keep you from doing very bad things with me.”
I almost cursed. Though I knew we were alone, I still braced. Still looked past him down the aisle and peered between the rows of books.
He took a step toward me. “Do you think it will work?”
“Will what work?” I asked, though I didn’t need to.
Unmistakable displeasure narrowed his eyes. Jaw clenched, he warned, “You know better than to play with me, Princess.”
“I’m not playing with you.” A jolt shot through me as I dared to say, “And don’t try to intimidate me. I’m no longer afraid of you, Prince.”
Thick brows jumped. As he inhaled deeply, a smile crept into his eyes. “Your scent flares when you lie.”
“Then it is my scent that’s lying.”
Unexpected and roughly sincere, his chuckle volleyed down the aisle. “Scents never lie, broshklin.”
“Please don’t call me that anymore.”
Save for something dark passing through his eyes, he went wholly still.
As did I.
Then he rolled his lips. “I see.”
Anticipation scratched at my stomach.
Flashing his teeth in a half smile, he said, “Tell me what to do again.” He stepped closer. “Please.”
“Why?” My heart hammered as I further taunted him. Provoked him. “What will you do?”
“Exactly what you’re practically begging me to do.” With another step, he said, “I will kiss you until you cannot remember why you shouldn’t let me.”
Though he wasn’t wrong, I widened my eyes and retreated toward the wall at the end of the aisle.
He took another step.
Another.
“Go on, broshklin,” he urged as he stopped before me. “Tell me what to fucking do.”
The wall met my back. Trapped, I just stood there and gazed up at him. Enjoyed the way his throat bobbed and his lashes heavied over his brightening eyes. My chest filled with unused air. It quaked my voice when I finally said, “Don’t ever call me broshklin—”
His mouth slammed over mine, punishing yet perfect.
A soft snarl followed, then I was lifted with ease, my thighs held in his bruising grip and my back against the stone.
Sparks sang through my entire body. Giddiness loosened the tight clench of guilt and fear. Emphasized that it was much too late to pretend I hadn’t been doing anything wrong. To pretend I didn’t want more of someone I shouldn’t.
Even so, I broke free to whisper, “Voran?”
“Mm?”
“Just kissing.”
Our eyes caught. His narrowed, and he squeezed my thighs. Then, feathering his lips over mine, he sighed. “Fine.”