Chapter 33
Stars
Brynn’s too hot hand engulfs mine and I wobble with deja vu as he drags me away from the dance floor.
We come across the goblin with the tray of brinewine and I swipe another glass.
I take one swig before Brynn realizes, grabs it with his free hand, and slams it down onto the next table we pass.
The unsuspecting faerie sitting there screeches as it spills onto their lap. Brynn does not glance back.
We are inside the palace before my brain registers—the stark silence buzzing in my ears as the heavy doors slam behind us.
Brynn takes several turns before leading me down a long, deserted hallway.
I stumble into him when he abruptly halts.
He releases my hand to rake both of his through his hair, his black suit stiff with the movement.
He’s never looked so proper, so regal, so unnerved.
“Godsdamnit, Thea,” he scowls, staring at the marble floor.
“I don’t—”
Without warning, he rounds on me, closing the gap with intent.
His full attention, and the fury in his expression, has me backing into the nearby wall.
He places his hands against it on either side of my head and leans in.
Yet, we do not touch. The roiling, molten glow of his eyes has returned—the usual warm honey replaced by a blazing inferno.
His breath fans my face, quick and hot. It smells of sweet faeplum.
“Brynn—” I breathe, and even wound as tightly as he is now, he tenses further. With him this close, it’s as though static electricity rolls from his skin from the threat of a possible command. “What is your problem?”
“You forbade my touch when we first met. For fear of me manipulating you,” he growls. “Yet, one word from my brother—arguably the most manipulative prick in all of Sanctuary—and you’re all over him.”
My gaze narrows.
“That’s why you’re being so ridiculous? What does it matter? You’ve been cold to me all night!” I shout.
“I was cold because—I was protecting—” he cuts himself off, words failing him in his rage.
“He asked me to dance. It didn’t exactly feel optional. And you certainly didn’t speak up,” I hiss, but the annoyance is fleeting. I should be angry. Instead, his palpable jealousy has me feeling like a fuse on the edge of ignition.
“He asked you to dance to goad me. Because he’s insufferable and abhorrent and sees—even when I—anyone with eyes can see how much I want—” he stops again, a dark flicker in his withering expression.
“What?” I ask, brow creasing. “What do you want?”
He shakes his head to smother whatever doubt haunts him. He leans in a shade, his face dipping. A strand of his hair falls loose and brushes my forehead. With that, my resolve crumbles. I am catching fire, emboldened, and almost cannot believe the next words slip from my tongue—
“Brynn. Kiss me.”
“Is that a command?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, already fighting it. His eyes find mine again and they are full of alarm. Mixed with something that looks a lot like hunger.
“Of course not,” I say, “I want you to want—”
Brynn’s lips meet mine with such urgency that the air is knocked out of me.
The thrumming static of our bond cracks and splinters like lightning.
My arms wrap around his neck, as though holding on to him will keep me afloat in this sudden storm.
His body presses into mine and I wish I was not wearing this bloody corset.
I cannot breathe. His lips part for me and I gasp against his mouth.
“Brynn, I’m sor—” I make to pull back, to speak, to breathe, to apologize for all that I’ve put him through, to apologize for what I’m about to do to him, but there is nowhere to go—I am trapped between him and the stone wall. “I’m sorry I—”
“Thea,” he whispers into me, my name almost holy on his tongue.
It raises the hair on my arms, and I take a shallow, heady breath.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, retreating only a fraction, and I shake my head.
His right hand finds the side of my neck and squeezes lightly.
“Good. Because I can’t. So, I beg you. Please. No more apologies.”
I am powerless to do anything other than obey.
He kisses me again, and my hands travel up into his hair where I tangle my fingers.
I run my tongue along his bottom lip and when they part once more, I bite.
The soft sound that escapes him is nothing short of ecstasy, an untethered yearning, and he repays me by pinching the back of my neck.
When my lips part eagerly for him, he takes no chances.
Both of his hands move to cup my face, but his trailing fingers are a soft caress under my earlobes.
His tongue sweeps mine with purpose. He explores my mouth, my lips, my taste like it’s the last thing he’ll do. This is a desperate, devastating kiss.
And all at once, I know we are doomed.
Because I crossed a line. I picked up a torch and set the bridge aflame.
There’s no such thing as friendship after this.
What does it matter if he believes he’s betrothed anyway?
What does it matter when he will inevitably decide my secrets outweigh his feelings for me?
There is no point holding on to something that cannot stay.
And in this moment, here and now, I do not care. Brynn’s fire consumes me. I have forgotten myself completely.
His mouth moves to my neck, and I am a woman possessed.
My hips mindlessly roll against him. He responds by pinning me to the wall with his own, allowing me to feel the extent of his desire.
All the doubt, the guilt, evanesces from my mind—all that matters now is closer, closer, closer.
My hands slip under his suit jacket, nails digging into his back as I fight to pull him in.
I may bruise with the fervent way his hands seize my waist. So be it.
He moves down my collarbone with agonizing slowness, my skin pebbling in his wake, and ever so gently brushes his lips over the crest of my bust above my heart.
My chest heaves and an embarrassing choking sound escapes me.
“Are you all right?” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ve never heard your heart beat this fast.”
“Can’t breathe. It’s the fucking corset,” I wheeze.
It’s the corset as well as other things.
“Do you want it off?” he asks, withdrawing just enough to stare into my eyes. He looks as stupefied as I feel.
“Right here?” I jest. His expression darkens, and I feel the wicked grin on his lips as they graze mine again.
“Come with me?” he breathes. I nod and slip my hand into his.
“Won’t they notice we’re gone?” I ask once he pulls me into his quarters.
“Doubtful,” he says, shutting the door as I move to the center of the room. “But I don’t care if they do.”
Brynn’s chambers are at the top of several winding flights of stairs.
The main living area is cavernous, and with a jolt, I realize we must be in the dome of the birdcage.
The ceiling is glass, making the soft glow of purple stars above visible.
It’s beautiful, but I’m panting. Breathless from what happened in the corridor, from the climb up here, from the fiery way Brynn stares at me as I take it all in.
He closes the gap and once again cradles my face with his warm hands. I melt as he kisses the spots where my dimples hide. As his lips find mine again. The tenderness of it has heat spreading low in my stomach. Has my thighs aching for something more. My arms fold around him—
“Thea,” Brynn says against my lips. I freeze, as though he’s about to command me. He draws back to survey me. “I’m sorry for being cold. I didn’t want my brother to see—to know—he has always—”
“Brynn,” I start, pulling him to me again, “your brother is the last person I wish to discuss right now.”
He gives in to my tug and chuckles against my neck. I tremble at the sensation.
“Plus, you might as well have carried me out of there,” I say. “It’s hardly a secret how you feel about—”
Brynn shuts me up with a frenzied kiss and I claw off his jacket.
He pulls back enough for me to yank his tunic over his head.
I leave his lips, working my way down his neck to his chest. He shudders when my mouth finds his scar.
When I try to move lower, he grabs my shoulders and spins me around, deftly tugging at my laces.
The second they loosen, I let out a raw and heady gasp.
His answering rumble of a laugh is more intoxicating than brinewine.
The gown hits the floor, and I turn, kicking off my shoes as I all but tackle him.
His hands find the backs of my bare thighs and I wrap myself around him.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he says even as he kisses the swell of my bust, grinning against my skin. He carries me through a doorway to a large, plush bed.
“I wish you could lie to me,” I groan back into his hair.
“Sometimes I wish I could, too,” Brynn confesses as he lowers me to the sheets. “But are you certain—the wine does not dictate your functions?”
“I know what I want,” I say, staring up at him. “And it is not words. I want you to touch me.”
I waste no time ripping off my bandeau. He releases me and watches, burning the image into his memory forever. He admires me for a beat, my pale breasts and exposed torso, his face sick with lust. But there’s something else there, too.
Uncertainty.
“We—we can stop if you want,” I say, all of a sudden feeling more naked than I ever have. I scoot away, propping myself up on my elbows. He stands at the edge of the bed watching me. The spots on my thighs where his hands just gripped now feel incredibly cold.
“That’s the problem—I never want to stop with you,” he breathes. “But—”
“But? Let me guess, the prophecy—you must do whatever is necessary for your kingdom—so fucking honorable of you,” I say, pulling the sheets over myself. Brynn stills my arm, hovering over me.