Chapter 17
When Rosalynn entered her tent to help her bathe later in the evening, she brought her a simple gown. Too simple, in Imani’s opinion.
The gown clung to Imani’s curves; it was more of an undergarment than a dress.
“Is there more?” Imani asked, looking around for any other clothes.
The maid bowed her head. “No, my lady. I was told you were to wait here for His Highness, and he’d be here when he was ready.”
Whoever had brought it—and Imani had a good guess—wanted to send a message. The message that she was a whore. Probably because the arrogant asshole needed this as much as her, and he hated that fact.
Imani pursed her lips. She snatched her robe and let the thick material settle over her shoulders, warming her slightly.
Her breasts were still barely covered, but if that was what he wanted, fine.
Kiran would get what he wanted in this instance.
If she was honest with herself … she was looking forward to this, too.
It tore her in half thinking about how much she hated Kiran for what he’d done to her, but also how much she relished feeding from him. Hell, she relished just being around him. Such conflicting feelings left her unsettled.
She fidgeted in the sparse nightclothes, but she needed to stay strong.
A dress didn’t matter when she had so much to hide.
Today, Imani would harden her heart further, shove her deepest secrets as far into the recesses of her mind as she could.
While he was bound to silence at whatever he learned, she wouldn’t make accessing anything easy for him.
With the Drasil missing, it was still dangerous. He could still act on the knowledge, even if he didn’t speak of it. Gods, it terrified her to think about him finding out about it.
And the same went for her accessing his secrets, which she was counting on.
Imani was sure he was fortifying his defenses as much as she was. Imani knew he was strong, too—that minuscule amount she’d stolen was unguarded for a moment, but she had no illusions that his guard would be down tonight.
She could slip through, though. She had once before, and she’d do it again.
Right now, it was just past dinner, and she assumed he’d come around midnight to avoid being seen.
Waving the maid away, Imani began pacing and prepared to wait.
Imani woke to darkness. Blinking past a skull-splitting headache, trying and failing to remember how she had fallen asleep, she lay there, prone. Her fire had almost gone out.
Rustling stirred her slightly. Half-asleep, she sat up.
A timepiece on the side table told her it was well past midnight, only hours until dawn.
Fisting her hands in her lap, Imani glowered at the empty room. Then, flopping back down with a growl, she settled in, resigning herself to being awake until morning.
More minutes passed. She heard an owl hooting outside her tent and curled herself into a ball, trying to ignore the ache in her chest that hadn’t abated.
A maid entered to stir her fire and keep her warm for the rest of the night.
Imani’s heart sank.
She waited some more.
Then Imani smelled Kiran—like harsh magic—before she saw him. He always smelled like pepper and smoke. It reminded her of power.
His shadowed form slowly approached the entrance to her tent. Kiran almost entirely filled the doorframe with his height, his hands casually dangling near his wand, always prepared, even if just a flick were enough to level the ground around them.
He merely waved his fingers. The room cleared as the maid scurried away.
Alone with her in the semi-darkness, his green eye glowed like a monster’s. Imani felt an inexplicable warming in her chest, one that left her greatly unsettled. She sat up, her hair cascading from her shoulders to her breasts in wild, untamed waves.
“Where were you?” she rasped, gathering her hair off her face. The cold air tightened her nipples, almost assuredly showing through the thin material. She didn’t bother to cover them.
“None of your concern,” he answered darkly. “I’m here now.”
“I guess all I have to do is wait around for you. Nothing else to do with my time except die of hunger,” she snapped softly as he swirled some liquid in a glass in his hand, his attention fixed on it.
“I guess not. People wait around for me. I am royalty. You”—he speared her with an unreadable look—“are not.”
Seething, Imani wanted to scream her shadows out of her mouth.
They simmered and pressed against her skin.
Releasing them from inside her chest would release her anger.
They wanted out, and she wanted them out, too, as her hunger tore through her.
How did he always do this to her? She wanted to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
Kiran set down his wand. He moved to frame her face firmly between both his hands.
There was not one bit of affection or gentleness in his hold.
“This is how this will go, Imani,” he said quietly, putting his forehead against hers.
“You and I will do what we need to ensure we don’t starve.
You will do your best to be meek, modest, and, more importantly, quiet.
Everyone can hear everything in this camp.
Keep your biting mouth shut and be grateful I’m helping you. ”
His tone implied there was nothing meek or modest about her. She was inclined to be upset about that, and yet, she knew it was sort of true.
“Why should I be grateful when you’re getting something out of it, too?” There was no dark sarcasm in her voice now, just a steady-eyed stare and the slight lift of her chin.
“Because I still own you.” He let go of her face roughly. “Which means shutting that beautiful fucking mouth up every time we do this and never, ever doing this with someone else until our deal is over. I don’t share. Understood?”
Her chest was moving rapidly up and down. She wanted to ask why he shared whores with his brother then, but she clamped her mouth shut. He was being an even bigger bastard than usual.
His mocking smile was nowhere to be found, his eyes not even showing one glimmer of amusement like they sometimes did. Although she was sure the mercurial prince would show himself at some point that night.
When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her arm. “Just do what is expected of you,” he snarled softly.
“Trust me; as soon as I can find a suitable alternative, we’re done. And can I expect the same from you? Exclusivity?”
He backed away. “No. I have a mate I need to keep happy,” he said with a glint of satisfaction in his eye.
Imani’s lip curled in disgust, and she glared at the fire, too irate to even look at him.
She loathed his words. Every single one of them felt like a dagger to the chest, but she shouldn’t have been surprised.
He was treating her like a whore so he could distance himself from their arrangement as much as possible.
Fine. Let him. It hurt her, but she’d never let it show. If he thought she was weak enough that she couldn’t distance herself like him, he was sorely mistaken. Imani absently rolled her wand across her fingers, watching the shadows flow around her hand and dance off into the corners of the tent.
“Look at me.” His voice was low, soft.
“I’m not one of the whores that you pay to order around.”
“Shut up,” he snapped while removing his belt, “and look at me.” Kiran undid his pants and stalked closer to her.
In the light of the fire, she saw his pupils were hugely dilated. Never careless with where he left his wand, she saw he’d put it in close reach. Imani needed to be just as prudent with her own wand—they weren’t fully trusting each other at all tonight.
He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly, never taking his eyes off of her.
Imani’s core clenched, and she felt a delightful shiver run through her.
But this sex was a business arrangement and nothing more.
Kiran certainly looked businesslike. He watched her with an unreadable look on his face as he slipped off his shirt.
Covered in markings and bindings, his broad chest moved up and down like he was also breathing heavier. Leaner than his older brother, lines and ropes of muscles covered his arms and legs. Saevel was bigger, but Imani felt like Kiran was more of a threat. More dangerous.
Eyes still locked on his, Imani stood up and stared up at him.
With one hand, she tugged on the hem of her dress and slipped it off her body entirely.
She held her wand in her other hand and, with a flourish, ripped off the echo shield.
Magic skittered across her limbs as she shifted into her true self.
Her skin glowed, heated from her arousal, and she could feel her signature pulsing her soul draw outward with each exhale.
A flash of surprise lit up his green eye.
She didn’t let him get away with it. “Ah, not as unbothered as you pretend to be.” Chuckling darkly, Imani meandered across the room to drape her nightgown over a chair, relishing the feel of the warm fire on her naked body.
She kept her wand in hand, still flipping it between her fingers.
Like Kiran, she didn’t trust herself to have it away from her touch.
When she turned to him again, his skin was glowing, too, and she felt that tug. He had let his soul draw out like hers. It was a heady drug to her system. She tipped her head back, unashamed, and breathed deep.
“So, where do we start?” Imani murmured.
He tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. “A kiss, perhaps?”
When she made a face, his shoulders shook in silent laughter. “Oh, you and I have a lot of work to do.”
Her mouth thinned as a serious look settled over his face.
“Lie down and don’t speak,” he commanded, layering a bit of the binding in his voice.
Asshole, Imani thought since she had no choice but to obey. Her hunger radiated off of her as she watched him take off his underwear.
Imani openly admired his naked body.
“Does the sight of my bare skin get under yours? Did you have lustful thoughts about me last night?” He gave Imani another taunting grin.
Godsdammit.
Kiran moved over her. Imani turned her head to the side, holding her breath, waiting for him to touch her the way she craved.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pressed several kisses down her chest, taking his time.
When he touched her, it was electric, like standing next to a lightning strike while sparks flew from it, and yet, it kept her trapped in place by its beauty. That was the only way to describe his touch and kiss. It scared her. It was intense—
Imani wanted him. And only him.
He cupped a breast, moving his thumb in circles around her nipple until it hardened further. He bent down to it. His lips replaced his fingers. His tongue moved over it, and Imani arched into him.
Sliding her eyes slowly open, Imani gazed at him in awe. Her breathing was coming faster now, practically panting at the sight of the prince kissing her belly.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, she reached forward and ran her hand through his hair. He leaned into the touch, and then his fearsome eyes met hers. There was a storm churning in the green one. Gods, the look on his face was heated, with a silent promise in his eyes that he would feed, too.
The Serpent Prince was ravenous and used to getting what he wanted.
If Imani did this, things would change inside of her forever, but she wanted to know what he was like. What he felt like. The real noises he’d make—not the heavy silence he gave her after their first kiss.
It heated her blood in the most dangerous way.