“Seriously?” This was not the time or place for one of his rambles. “You didn’t know me all that well. Quit acting like you did so we can move past your being surprised every time I open my mouth.”
“I knew you well enough,” he countered. “You were vapid before, a coward. Now … You never did tell me about your time on Earth.”
“Veni, vidi, vici,” she mumbled under her breath, only half paying attention to him. It was dangerous, he was dangerous, but Ruckus was out there, and she didn’t know what was happening to him.
“‘I came, I saw, I conquered’?” A single golden brow winged up. “How very Kint of you.”
That got her attention. She glared at him, making sure to push all her annoyance into that one look.
“I am not a Kint. I’ll never be a Kint.” It was probably wrong of her to be so prejudiced against his people. She didn’t actually know anything about them except what she’d been told. The only two she’d ever even spoken with had been him and Brightan, neither of whom had helped boost her opinion.
“You will be,” Trystan said then, voice cutting through the tight darkness. She could make out the outline of his large body, see the contours of his face and his eyes. He was close enough that his expressions were as visible to her as if the two of them had been in broad daylight. “Once the binding ceremony has been completed, you will be.”
Great, now they were talking about marriage again. The arrangement never made either of them happy, and caught in this confined space, it really wasn’t a good topic to discuss.
Still, she couldn’t help but rise to the bait, adding, “Well, then that will also make you a Vakar.”
“We’d be responsible for each other’s people, yes.” He didn’t appear the least bit upset.
Which made her suspicious.
“Trystan,” she said, somehow managing to keep her tone as sweet and even as possible, “do you actually intend for us to be bound?”
His grin was wicked, the kind you’d expect to see on a serial killer right before he added another trophy to his collection.
“Vapid before,” he repeated, leaning in a bit closer. “Not anymore.”
“Perhaps we should all take a trip to Earth,” she stated, for lack of a better response. His reaction to her question unsettled her, and she was all about covering it up. “Go ahead. Take five years, or ten. I’ll wait.”
“If I went, you’d go.”
“And why is that?”
“Because neither of us is leaving here without the other. Not until this whole thing gets settled.”
“Not until you find a way out of our binding, you mean.” Why she pressed it was beyond her. Maybe it was morbid curiosity; maybe it was her need for preparation. She couldn’t prepare for the worst if she didn’t know all he was capable of.
“Smart girl.” He inched toward her even more. “Except, you’re off about one detail.”
“What’s that?” Blood rushed through her ears, and it was obvious when he smirked that he knew he’d finally gotten to her.
He brought his head down to hers conspiratorially. “I already found a way.”
She froze, unable to breathe.
“A couple, actually. I’m the type of man who likes to keep his options open.”
“Always have a plan B,” she found herself murmuring.
“Precisely.”
Because he hadn’t said it in so many words, she couldn’t prove it, but she was positive he’d just admitted to trying to kill her the other day. Was that what was going on outside right now? Were all the explosions an attempt to get a lucky shot and blow her up?
For some reason, it felt like they’d been doing this dance for a lifetime. At the very least, a week, not the mere few days that had actually passed.
Another explosion ripped through the air, dimmed from where they were but still discernible.
“Seems like you aren’t receiving a very warm welcome home, are you?” He reached up and swept a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.
She couldn’t help it—she shivered. He could break her with that hand. A glance over his massive form showed only blurry outlines of the others. If she couldn’t see them, they certainly were unable to see her.
You’d think with her being the Lissa—false or not—they’d be paying better attention. Her life right now was the deciding factor in a war, after all.
“It appears I’m not the only one who dislikes you,” Trystan continued, though he kept his hand in her hair, fingers sweeping back until he was cupping her skull.
With one swift tug, he had her on her knees, kneeling on the cot, pressed against his front so tightly, it was momentarily hard for her to breathe. Forcing her head back with a yank, he kept her gaze pinned to his own, a mocking half smirk playing at his firm pink lips.
“My father might be king right now, but I am the future Rex. The hatred I have for you is far from secret. It really isn’t all that surprising that my people rebel against our binding.” The hand he held at her lower back tightened, fingers splaying out as if needing to touch more of her despite his words. “If I accepted you, they probably wouldn’t react this way.”
“Are you admitting the Tars work for you?” She tried to keep her body lax. Tensing would only give him more pleasure and probably would result in another painful tug of her hair.
“Don’t be silly,” he scolded, like he would a child.
She licked her lips and his gaze followed.
“Okay,” she said, switching tactics, “but you don’t, do you?” At his raised brow, she elaborated. “Approve of our merger? You don’t accept me.”
“Merging with you was never the issue,” he said crassly. “You have a mildly attractive outer shell.”
Wow. If he thought the gorgeous princess was only decent looking, he’d probably chuck her away in revulsion if he could see Delaney’s true face. She didn’t have low self-esteem or anything like that, but Delaney couldn’t hold a candle to a girl like Olena.
“But once would be enough,” he went on. “Enough to settle my curiosity, and enough to grow infinitely more tired of you. My children are going to be kings and queens. You really think I’d sully them with your DNA?”
“I have royal blood,” she managed, “same as you.”
“Blood has very little to do with it.” His eyes trailed languidly down the curve of her pale throat. “Unfortunately.”
There was little doubt in her mind he was imagining slitting it.
“You don’t like me,” she stated, trying to get his attention away from blatantly murderous thoughts. “I don’t like you. Glad we settled that.”
“We haven’t settled anything,” he disagreed. Suddenly he cocked his head, listening, and with a start, she realized the blasts outside had stopped at some point. “It seems, however, Ander Ruckus has. Pity.”
He let her go so quickly, she dropped, glaring up at him as he stood. He smirked at her again, his gaze roaming her body.
“Hmm, I think I like you like this, though,” he practically purred, “splayed out before me. At my mercy.”