A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire(94)

And that realization was terrifying. Scared me more than a horde of Craven or murderous Ascended ever could. Because I had to deal with what Casteel felt and what he didn’t.

The reason Casteel hadn’t told me about this Gianna was the same reason he hadn’t told me about the Joining or about Spessa’s End. Kieran could be right, and he could be wrong. Casteel may care for me—care for me enough to not want to see undue harm befall me, and Casteel did want me physically, but that didn’t mean we were heartmates. That didn’t mean he loved me. And no amount of pretending would change that or how I felt.

I had to deal.

And I would.

Because my agreement with Casteel remained. I wouldn’t back out because of how I felt or that my feelings were hurt. My brother was more important than that.

I lifted my head, bleary eyes focused on the ancient stone walls. The people of Solis were more important than how I felt, so were all those who called Atlantia home. Casteel’s brother was more important, as were all those names on the walls of the underground chambers.

Casteel and I could change things. We could stop the Ascended, and that was what mattered.

Climbing to my feet, I shakily made my way to the small bathing chamber, grateful that Casteel hadn’t returned while I’d been having a complete breakdown and moment of realization. I splashed away the tears staining my face and then undressed, pulling on the nightgown that could barely be called clothing. The cool material skimmed my breasts and hips, ending just below my rear. Tomorrow, I would question whether or not women actually slept in this…this scrap of silk, but tonight, I was too tired to even be concerned with it. After locking the doors, I took my dagger to the bed, placing in under the pillow. Pulling the blanket up over me, I tried not to think about how everything smelled of Casteel. I closed my aching eyes, and as weary as I was from everything, I immediately drifted into the oblivion of nothing.

It was the bed shifting under unexpected weight that woke me sometime later. Rolling onto my side, I slipped the dagger from under the pillow.

A hand caught my wrist in the shadows of the room, and a voice whispered, “Are you going to stab me in the heart? Again?”





Chapter 33





The scent of rich spice and pine reached me the second after the words.

Casteel.

My racing heart didn’t slow. “Why don’t you let go of my wrist and find out?”

“That sounds like a yes if I ever heard one,” he replied as my eyes adjusted. The glow of the lamp outside the canopy cast most of him in shadow, but he was close enough that I could see the arch of a brow and the amused tilt to his lips.

Promised to someone else.

Anger was a heatwave that swept away any lingering sleep. “Let me go.”

“I don’t know if I should.” His thumb moved in an idle circle along the inside of my wrist as he said, “Someone is likely to be very irritated if you stab me, and I end up bleeding all over the bed.”

“You could always clean up after yourself.”

“There’s something innately wrong with the idea of being stabbed and then having to clean up my own blood.”

I pushed against his hold, but my hand remained pinned to the bed. “There’s something innately wrong with you being in here! How did you even get in? I locked the doors.”

“Did you?”

“I did…” I sighed. “Key. You have a key.”

“Perhaps.” His head tilted. “Have you been crying?”

“What? No,” I lied.

“Then why are your eyes swollen?”

“Probably because I’m tired. I was sleeping, but you woke me up.”

“I wanted to come back sooner—it seems I always want to come back sooner,” he said, seeming to have accepted my answer. “Especially when you’re wearing something so interesting.”

The blanket had slipped to my waist in sleep, exposing the low neckline of the nightgown. Heat crept down my neck and across the swells of my breasts. “It was the only thing in here for me to wear other than the robe.”

“I like it.” He shifted, seeming to get comfortable as he reached out with his other hand, fingering the strap. “Such ridiculous, tiny straps. I like them.”

I knocked his hand away. “You can let go. I’m not going to stab you.”

“I find that oddly disappointing.”

“And I find that extremely disturbing.”

He laughed deeply, letting go of my wrist. I started to move, but he was so much faster, shifting so he was above me. The warmth of his body pressed against my chest as one of his long legs ended up between mine, shorting out my senses. A flash of heat rolled through me as every part of my body became overly aware of how close he was.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Making sure you’re comfortable.”

“And how will you accomplish that by lying on top of me?”

“I won’t.” A shadowy grin appeared. “I’m doing that because I like lying on top of you.”

“Well, I don’t,” I bit out, pulse thundering.

His chest brushed against mine, sending a velvet shiver through me. “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.” I lifted the dagger to his neck. “Truly.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you held a dagger to my throat?” His fingertips touched my cheek and slid lower, over my jaw. “I do.”

A lick of pleasure followed his fingers. “That was a temporary loss of sanity.”

“That’s my favorite kind.” He dragged his fingers down my throat and over the line of my collarbone. “I really do like these straps.”

“I really don’t care.”

His fingers slipped under it as his hand curved on my shoulder. “You lie so sweetly.”

I ignored that. “Casteel—”

“But not as sweetly as you say my name.”

I let out a little growl. “You are…”

“Marvelous? Charming? Undeniable?”

“Increasingly annoying.”

“But you still haven’t used that dagger at my neck.”

“I’m trying to think of the people who will have to clean up the mess.”

“How thoughtful of you.” He toyed with the strap. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”

“What?” The shift in conversation threw me.

“I might have, but I couldn’t remember if I did,” he went on, tugging gently on the strap. “Then I thought that it wasn’t something you could say too often. You’re beautiful, Poppy.”

My stupid, stupid heart skipped. “Is that why you decided to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“You’re beautiful.” His head tilted, and I gasped at the feel of his lips on the longer scar of my cheek. He kissed that one and then the shorter one, above my eye. “Both halves, and you should never question why anyone would find you utterly, irrevocably, and distractingly beautiful.”

The skipping was back, but I ignored it. “That is a lot of adjectives.”

“I can come up with more.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I advised. “So, now that you’ve told me this, you can get off me.”

He smiled against my cheek. “But you’re comfortable, Princess, and you make me feel…well, you just make me feel.”

What did I make him feel? Lust? Amusement? Entertained? The urge to read him was hard to ignore. “That’s not a reason.”

“That’s the only reason.”

Irritation pricked at my skin even as his breath danced over my lips and his fingers skimmed the outer swell of my breast. “Well, good for you, but I don’t need you to be here.”

“See, that’s the problem.” His voice dropped to a whisper as his hand slid over the silk of the gown. The material was so thin, it served no barrier against the brand of his palm. “You don’t need me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“But…” Casteel’s lips glanced off mine, causing my breath to hitch as his hand slipped under the blanket and over my hip. His fingers reached bare skin, and a rush of damp heat pooled. “But you want me.”

Muscles coiled tight in my stomach and then lower as I pressed the sharp edge of the blade to his throat, nicking his skin. “Not now,” I told him.

Undaunted by the knife, he lowered his mouth. And when he spoke, his lips played over mine. “I can sense your arousal, Princess.”

There was no denying that. I could lie all I wanted, but it didn’t change that it took effort not to lift my hips against his, to not think of how he’d felt earlier, thick and hard inside me. But the wound in my chest from what I’d realized was still there, and the memory of how shockingly painful it was to think he’d already been engaged had been a warning I needed to heed before I lost sight of what was important.

“Just because my body wants you, doesn’t mean any other part of me does.”

“Then maybe we should pretend more?” he offered, his fingers drifting closer to where I ached. If he reached that area, I knew I would be lost.

It wasn’t that he had that kind of power. It was that my desire for him did.

“Or maybe we stop pretending,” he said. “I liked that better, to be honest.”