When we reclaim our kingdom, I intend to rule beside him as such.
I felt, all at once, much more naked than I had thirty seconds ago.
“I’m not going to risk my life and the lives of what little army I have left just to put your ass back on that throne without taking some of it for myself,” I said.
Somehow, I could tell he knew my dismissive tone was a little forced.
He rasped a low laugh.
“Good,” he said. “I’d be disappointed otherwise.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” I said, before I could stop myself.
An infuriating, stubborn smile clung to his mouth. “Mhm. Of course not.”
“I’m still not sure that you’re not going to fuck me over,” I grumbled—just because I felt like it was what I should say, even if the truth of it was now obvious, even to me.
But his thumb came to my chin, gently tipping my face back to him. His stare was steady, uncomfortably direct.
“I am not going to fuck you over,” he said.
Firmly. Like it was nothing more and nothing less than fact. It felt like fact, when he said it like that. And the truth was, I believed him.
I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, though. So I narrowed my eyes.
“Again, you mean,” I said. “Fuck me over again.”
His lips twitched. “That face. There she is.”
Then the smirk faded, revealing something so much more serious, something I wanted to wriggle away from. I didn’t, though—I met his stare, let his thumb hold my chin.
It was frightening to give someone your trust.
More frightening still to give it for a second time, after they broke it the first.
“One honest thing,” I murmured.
And he didn’t hesitate as he said softly, “Never, Oraya. Never again. And not just because I don’t have a chance in hell of taking Sivrinaj back without you. But because I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”
I thought of what was ahead—two armies that hated each other now forced to work together to take on a greater evil. For a moment, I couldn’t help but consider what myself from a year ago would say if presented with all of this.
She would fucking laugh.
No. She would refuse to believe it altogether. That version of Oraya literally would not be able to comprehend any of it. Not Vincent’s death, or his lies. Not the Heir Mark on her skin, or her wish to a goddess, or the idea of allying with the Rishan Heir.
She certainly would never believe that I could be standing here now, naked, in front of Raihn—not only a vampire, not only a Rishan, but her greatest enemy—and not feel even a little bit afraid.
At least, not afraid for her physical safety.
Another fear settled, though, deep under my skin.
“Do you really think we can do this?” I murmured.
He contemplated this.
“Yes,” he said finally. “Yes. I do.”
He traced my Heir Mark again, a line of concentration between his brows.
“At the very least,” he said, “I sure as hell believe that you can.”
I wanted to laugh at him.
I wanted to weep.
Because I knew he meant it.
My fingertips touched his chest—damp skin, rough with various little scars and the soft texture of dark hair. Right over his heart, where my blade had pierced that night.
“Funny, how things change.”
He tipped my chin up. And I didn’t have time to move or react before he kissed me, slow and deep, his soft tongue gently caressing mine as my lips parted for him like leaves opening toward the sun.
It was the kind of kiss that made doubts wither. The kind that made it easy not to think about difficult realities—even if it hinted at a more frightening one that I hadn’t yet accepted.
Our mouths parted, but our noses still touched, as he murmured, “Been wanting to do that constantly for the last week.”
Goddess, me too. I wasn’t sure what had changed the night we were together, but it was like my body had awakened to a whole new sense. It was a little shameful, actually, how I craved him. I was constantly aware of his proximity, his scent, his gaze. I could feel it when he looked at me, even when I didn’t meet his eyes. And every time we had lain beside each other in our sparse, very much non-private moments of rest, I had to stop myself from closing the distance between us.
It was dizzying. It was terrifying. It was addictive.
I hated it. Fucking hated it.
...But maybe also liked, just a little bit, that he felt it too. I could practically sense his heartbeat, slow but quickening, hot beneath his skin. And I could very literally sense his cock, hardening in the space between us, nudging my hip.
I took a certain satisfaction in the fact that his desire was so much more physically obvious than mine. I could pretend my peaked breasts were from the cooling water on my skin. Could pretend my own quickening heart was from the anticipation of what we were about to do.
Yet something about his shaky breath over my lips told me he knew the truth, too.
I moved a little closer, hardened nipples brushing the hair of his chest.
“That wasn’t what you were really thinking about.”
His lips curled. I could taste that smile as he kissed me again, this time softer, nipping at my lip.
“One of the things,” he admitted. “Not all of them.”
His hand lowered to my breast, his thumb circling the peak. It responded to him immediately, tightening beneath his touch, my breath hitching.
“Don’t think I’m the only one,” he murmured.
Another kiss.
“You’re arrogant,” I said.
Even as I was chasing his lips again. Chasing that kiss like an addict. Practically grinding myself against him.
Pathetic.
But I didn’t feel ashamed.
“A little,” he replied, before cupping my face and kissing me again—this time harder, more viciously, something much more akin to the storms of our other torrential trysts. And I let it sweep me away, my desire devouring my pride as his arms folded around me and mine encircled his neck, pulling myself flush against him.
The nagging need that I’d been managing to ignore for the past week was suddenly all-consuming. Utterly devastating.
And hell if I even cared. It was better to be lost in this than to be lost in all our difficult concerns.
His hands glided over wet skin, like he was eager to refamiliarize himself with my body. My thighs parted, the warm water agonizing against my growing need, and my legs folded around his waist. He cradled me, lifting me up, making it easier for me to cling to him. His head craned, allowing me to control our kisses, fervent and unbroken.
My slit met the rigid length of him, and I let out a little strangled sound against his mouth.
“Fuck, Oraya,” he breathed, the words butchered as my back met stone.
I needed him. Goddess, I needed him now. No more waiting.
But he paused, pulling back slightly, eyes meeting mine.
“This alright?” he said, in panting breaths.
At first, I wasn’t even sure what he was asking.
Then I realized: I was pinned here, between his body and the rocks.