“It helps when one knows what one wants.” She pressed her face to the bars, sighing as his hand moved over the curve of her ass, her eyes drifting shut. “Kiss me.”
She felt his breath, heard the raggedness of it, and then his lips were on hers, tongue in her mouth, kissing her with the desperation of one too-long denied. She slipped her arms through the bars, dragging her nails over his shoulders and digging them into the hard muscles, relishing his groan.
“God help me, Valcotta, you undo me like none other.”
“Because you are mine.” She didn’t care that logic said such a dream was impossible. “And no one else’s.”
He caught hold of the straps of her nightgown, the silk spilling around her body to pool over the curve of her hips. She whimpered as his thumb brushed over the tip of one breast, allowing him to pull her against the thin bars, his mouth lavishing one nipple, then the other, the scrape of his teeth on her sensitive skin driving her to madness.
Lightning splintered the sky, wind brushing against her naked torso, her skin cold except where his mouth turned it to fire. He gripped the bars with one hand, but the other was under the skirt of her nightdress, fingers trailing up her inner thigh. Higher and higher, and then they brushed over her silk undergarments, the growl that exited his lips telling her that he’d found them soaked with lust. “I want to see you.”
She spread her legs, knees moving to brace against the sides of the window frame, her hands gripping the bars as she leaned back, feeling his eyes drink in her body with every flash of lightning.
He stroked a finger over the sodden silk, the fabric rubbing against the apex of her thighs and sending shudders through her, tension growing in her core.
“Please.” She needed more. Needed all of him. “This is torment.”
“Which you deserve.” His finger slowly circled the center of her pleasure. “You have caused me a great deal of frustration.”
“Not on purpose.” She was shaking, wild with need. “Whereas your torment seems quite purposeful.”
He laughed softly, and then his finger slipped behind the fabric, the feel of his skin against hers nearly shattering her. She sobbed his name as he stroked her, finger moving down to tease her entrance before sliding inside of her.
Her body bucked, and she gripped the bars, thrusting herself against him and nearly sobbing as he slipped a second finger inside her. “Is this more what you had in mind?”
“Yes. God, yes.” She rode his fingers like a wild thing, moans tearing from her throat as his thumb rubbed against the knot of nerves, her tension mounting even as the storm moved closer. Then she felt his fingers curve inside her, stroking as she thrust down, and her body shattered. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, forcing her to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the screams of his name, the climax leaving her spent.
But not sated.
She was coming to realize that she never would be. That she could never have enough of him. That a lifetime wouldn’t be enough and that even in the Great Beyond, she’d need his touch.
His arms moved around her, pulling her against the cold steel of the bars. Holding her until her breathing steadied, one hand gently stroking her spine.
“We’re going to win this, Valcotta,” he finally said. “You and I are going to beat them. It can be no other way.”
I will win, she thought, her eyes burning. But we will lose.
She whispered, “You should go. It’s going to rain.”
He kissed her once, long and lingering and so full of passion that she felt her resolve falter. But before she caved entirely, he pulled away and slipped into the night.
Grief threatened to overwhelm her, fueled by guilt that she was deceiving him. That he’d have to deal with the fallout of her actions. Yet it had to be this way, so Zarrah built up walls around every emotion, allowing only her anger to walk free.
As she cast her eyes upward to the tower, like clockwork, a glow flickered to life in Silas Veliant’s chambers.
It was time.
51
KERIS
You should not have done that, he berated himself as he slipped through the gardens. Never mind if you got caught—it’s immoral to touch her while she’s a prisoner.
Yet denying her anything that she wanted, especially pleasure, bordered on impossible for him. He’d do anything to make her smile. To make her laugh. To take her away from this awful circumstance, if only for a moment.
Hands closed on Keris’s shoulders, and a voice whispered, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
He twisted, nearly punching whoever it was in the face before recognizing his brother. “Otis? What are you doing here?”
“Hardly the most pressing question.” Otis scanned the dark gardens, his face barely visible in the shadows. “What were you thinking? If you were caught, Father would gut you like a fish.”
Keris felt the blood drain from his face. “Caught doing what, precisely?”
“Don’t play coy. Not with me.” His brother leaned closer. “I followed you out into the gardens to talk to you, but you disappeared. Only I know you, so I had a mind to look up. Or listen up, as the case might be.”
Horror filled Keris’s stomach, his palms turning to ice, because if his brother had heard what he and Valcotta had been doing…
“Only you would have the bloody audacity to cuckold Father in his own house. Who was it?”
Cuckold… The word sent a rush of relief running through him, because his brother thought it had been one of the harem wives. He crossed his arms. “It’s hardly your business.”
“Tell me, or I’ll ask Coralyn whose window that is.”
Fuck. “Fine. It was Lestara.” The most believable of any of the women, as well as the most palatable, given she hadn’t given birth to one of his half siblings. “I hope you’ll do me the favor of keeping your mouth shut.”
Otis snorted. “For her sake, I’ll keep silent. But if you’ve got any sense in you, you’ll end it. There are countless women in Vencia who’d be happy to warm your bed without the risk of Father chopping off your most offending member.”
Thank God for small mercies, Keris thought, relief nearly causing his shoulders to sag. And large ones. “For once, you speak wisdom.” He slung his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Care to venture out for the night? Find some women and wine and a game of cards?”
“Would that I could, but Father wishes a report on the state of Nerastis.”
“And what is the state of that shithole?”
Otis exhaled a long breath, allowing himself to be led in the direction of the tower. “Quiet as a grave. The Valcottans are sticking to their side of the Anriot, and when we raid, they defend but don’t pursue. They’re up to something, mark my words.”
“Or they recognize that antagonizing those who have their princess is an excellent way to get her killed.”