And there’s the catch.
I scowl at him. “I already told you, I’m not going to do anything.”
He touches a finger to my lips, and I pretend his touch does nothing to me. “I need more than just your word,” he says. “I need proof.”
I don’t see the king again until the next evening. He’s been busy all day with ruling the world, and I imagine that he will be especially busy for many months—hell, many years—to come.
When he knocks on my door, I just about bound out to meet him. Sure he’s a slimy bastard, but men and women have been in and out of my room all day taking my measurements, asking questions about my personal preferences, and abusing my skin, nails, and hair in the name of beauty. There are forms of torture less painful than that.
“Someone seems happy to see me,” he says.
“You are a sadistic bastard.” I brush past him and out the door, glancing both ways just to make sure no one else is about to ambush me into picking out a color scheme for God-knows-what.
Somehow the king knows exactly what I’m referring to. I can see the laughter in his eyes. “I thought all women liked getting pampered?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Do I look like the kind of woman who enjoys that?”
The king places a hand on my back and leans down to whisper in my ear. “You look like the kind of woman who shoots and asks questions later, and it’s a turn-on.”
My head whips back to look at King Lazuli. He’s gazing at me hungrily. “You are a twisted son of a gun.”
“Look who’s talking.”
I open my mouth to retort when the king cuts me off. “I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and pulls me down the hall.
“Where’s your little henchman, Marco?”
The king’s hand tightens on mine. “He’s around, but I’ve asked him to keep his distance.”
“So, he’s still working for you?”
“Yes.” King Montes doesn’t look at me when he says it.
I pull my hand out of his. “That’s it? He kills my father and he goes unpunished?”
“Watch your words.” Now the king turns to face me, and his eyes flash. “You and your men killed and injured some of my best men, and you got a peace treaty and a promotion out of it.”
I stop in my tracks. “A promotion?” My voice only gets quiet like this before I do terrible things. “You consider this a promotion?”
My hands clench and unclench. The king eyes them before he speaks. “From emissary of a dying nation to queen of the entire world? Of course it is.”
I pull my fist back and slam it into his face. My knuckles split as they connect with the king’s cheek. It’s the most pleasant sting I’ve ever endured.
His head whips to the side, and I hear the click of his teeth as his jaw snaps together. Montes staggers, but only for a moment. I hear the pounding of several footsteps as some of the nearby palace guards run to help the king. He waves them off and rubs his jaw while he watches me, his eyes sparkling dangerously. Blood trickles out the side of his mouth. He must’ve cut himself with his teeth.
“So the king bleeds—I wasn’t sure,” I say.
He smiles. That’s all the warning I get. Then he’s on me. He swipes my feet out from under me, and I slam to the ground. The king follows, straddling me. He grabs my hands and holds them over my head. “Are you finished with your tantrum?”
“Not even close,” I growl.
I try to buck him off my body, but it only serves to tighten his grip on me. The king’s legs press into my sides, and he squeezes my hands. It takes me a few seconds and a couple deep breaths to realize that we’re in a compromising position.
As if reading my mind, the king’s eyes flick to my lips, a wicked grin forming along his own. I want to scream, but instead I force my strained muscles to relax. It’s even harder to swallow my pride.
“Are you going to get off of me and show me this surprise of yours?” I ask, trying to sound exasperated. It’s not very convincing, considering the series of events that led up to now.
“Hmm, I’m not sure,” King Lazuli says, pretending to ponder my words. “It’s not very often that I get my bloodthirsty wife-to-be on her back.”
My face heats both with anger and embarrassment. He removes one of his hands from where they grip mine to brush his thumb over my lower lip. Heat ripples through my stomach. I don’t want to react this way, not in the middle of some hall in the king’s palace in front of palace guards. Not with him, and not after he’s just tackled me to the ground.
I lie there, watching, waiting for what he’ll do next. He gazes at my lips, and then he leans in.
He’s a hair’s breadth away from my mouth when I speak. “Don’t,” I say.
“Why not?” The king’s breath fans against my lips. He’s smiling down at me rapaciously.
I don’t speak. There are a hundred reasons why this shouldn’t happen right now, but my mouth can’t form a single one.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, his voice low. “I won’t kiss you if you can offer me something better.”
“I’m not your fucking employee, and this is not a business transaction,” I snap.
His grin deepens. “You’re right, it isn’t.” His mouth presses against mine, and my stomach clenches. His tongue strokes my lips, encouraging them to part. Caught up in the moment, I let them. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed kissing and how good the king’s, in particular, are.
His tongue brushes against mine, and I relish the heady taste of him. With Will, my mind had loved him while my body had remained unmoved. In this situation, it’s the exact opposite. I hate the king, yet I crave him. I want him to suffer, but I also want this.
Love and hate really aren’t so very different.
He bites my lower lip, sucks on it, and I all but moan at the sensation. The king pulls away from me, and I lazily open my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them to begin with.