When I look at Montes again, his face is studiously blank, like he’s trying to hide his reaction. I realize then that my life might shock the king as much as his life has shocked me. I still can’t comprehend the sheer quantity of lives he’s taken through his wars, but maybe he is also having a hard time believing that I can kill so easily.
“Tell me how a decent man can be okay with leading a war,” I say.
“That’s not a question, and I’m not a decent man,” he says.
“You’re right, I forgot for a moment.”
The king presses in close to me so that my back is up against the wall of the pool. His hands rest against the tiled edge, trapping me between them. “Told you,” he says, his voice gravelly.
“Told me what?”
“I don’t think you really hate me.”
“That’s just wishful thinking on your part,” I say, but silently I worry that he’s right, that a few hours with him have weakened my long-held beliefs.
“Okay,” I say, changing the topic, “if you don’t answer the question I just asked you—”
“Statement,” King Lazuli corrects.
“—then you can at least answer this one: why do you like me?”
A sinful smile spreads along the king’s lips, and he shifts his body so that his slick skin rubs against mine. “You’re clearly new at this,” he says. I bristle at his words. “Attraction and chemistry don’t follow any logical rules. You’re not the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, nor the smartest, nor the funniest.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“But you are the girl I’ve altered a peace treaty for, and you are the girl I’m spending the evening with.”
“You’re evil and deceptive,” I say.
“And you’re a kindred spirit.”
That stops me. It stops me completely. I’ve never thought of it that way. That the two of us might be the same. The more I think about it, the more frightening similarities there are between us.
The king shifts against me, drawing my attention to the sculpted muscles of his chest and the arms that pin me to the wall. My eyes trail up and rest on his mouth.
The slow burn of the alcohol allows me to focus on only one thing at a time, and right now I’m focusing on those lips.
I blink slowly, the wine churning unpleasantly in my stomach.
“Are you going to let me kiss you?” the king asks.
“Does my answer even matter?” I flick my gaze up to his.
“No, not when you’re looking at me like that. But I still want to hear you to say it.”
“I won’t. Not for you.” Admitting I want him to kiss me feels too much like I’m betraying my nation.
He moves his left hand from where it rests to lift one of my legs. He wraps it around his waist. I swallow and fight the urge to close my eyes against the feel of his fingertips on the sensitive skin there.
He’s challenging me to stop him with his eyes. I don’t.
The king sets his hand back against the edge of the pool and removes his right hand to wrap my other leg around him.
My gaze moves between his eyes, his dark, fathomless eyes. “You can’t make someone love you,” I say.
“I don’t need you to love me.”
I’m sure that buried beneath all the king’s narcissism and conceit, there’s a man that wants companionship, affection—acceptance. That’s what all humans want. But perhaps I give the king too much credit.
He leans in slowly, watching me, daring me. At the last minute I turn my head away from him.
“You don’t get to have me,” I say. “Not after you’ve taken everything from me.” I don’t know when the evening became so serious, and now the wine has loosened my lips. I’m saying things I shouldn’t be saying. Not if I’m supposed to be seducing my way into an advantageous peace treaty.
“Is that a challenge?” King Lazuli’s gaze dips to my breasts, and his knee rubs the fabric of my bikini bottoms against me. He knows what he’s doing—I’ll give him that.
“No, I’m just stating a fact.” I have to coax my voice to sound normal.
“Just like you hating me is also you stating a fact.”
“Exactly.”
“Good,” he says. “Now I know that you have absolutely no idea what a fact is.”
My mouth drops open, and he uses that opportunity to lean all the way in and kiss me.
He was right earlier when he said he didn’t play fair. His lips press hotly against mine, and his tongue caresses the inside of my mouth. I use my own tongue to shove his out, but this is where I make a critical mistake. Kisses are just as much a battle as they are a joining of desires, and in my ignorance I’ve unknowingly deepened the kiss.
The king reciprocates with force, his tongue scorching my mouth. I’ve never been kissed this way before, like I’m some desperate desire of the king’s. He rubs himself against me, and I can feel him harden.
No. This can’t go any further.
I push him away from me, and I scramble to get out of the pool. My exit is not very graceful, but that’s the last thing on my mind.
I’m breathing heavily when I turn to face the king. He’s treading water, studying me with a predatory look in his eyes. Or maybe it’s lust I’m seeing. It doesn’t matter.
“Scared?” he asks, taunting me.
“Yes.” I sway on my feet, feeling lightheaded.
His tone changes. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. The wine’s no longer a pleasant buzz, but something more insidious. I feel my stomach cramp and nausea rise. “I think I drank too much.”
I stumble over to one of the nearby chairs and lean my head between my legs. This position doesn’t feel so bad.
When I feel a hand on my arm, I look up and see the king crouched in front of me. I must be losing my senses; I didn’t hear him exit the pool and approach.
His gaze looks concerned. “We should probably get you to bed.”