"Father is busy. However, I have arranged a meeting with Prince Dalziel of the Court of Winds. I think it would be honorable if you would join me on the trip to help represent our court and our king."
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, her brows suddenly lowering. "You want me to go to the Court of Winds? With you?"
My shoulders rise and fall as I try to pass this off as something smaller than we both know it is. "Yes, well, Princess Violence is coming as well. I also thought I might bring Casimir along as well. He might not be much help when it comes to winning over Prince Dalziel; however, I think it would be a good idea to get him out of the castle for a little while. Don't you?"
She gives a small nod, and the strands of hair around her face fall forward like a curtain shielding her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
Inching forward, drawn toward her, and intoxicated on her scent, I tip my head. “Why?”
“Why? You know why.” She presses her shoulders into the door, flattening herself as if she might be able to become invisible. Her ever-searching eyes examine the room. Her voice softens. “Merrick, we can’t... I can’t have a repeat of the other day.”
“Did you...” Whatever confidence I had mustered deflates. “Did you not like it?”
Long lashes curl at the tops of her cheeks, her star-speckled gaze hidden from view. One hand brushes her lips.Is she remembering how great it was? How perfect we are together? Or is she wishing she could take it back?
Oh goddess. My stomach cramps, nearly pushing the little bit of food in my stomach right up my throat.
What if she regrets ever staying with me? What if it didn’t mean as much to her as it did to me?
Valentina blinks her eyes open, her hand falling away from her mouth. “Merrick, no, I loved it. It was perfect.”
A cooling sensation flushed through my entire body. The sweet kiss of relief. I close the space between us, one hand against the door propping me up, the other tracing the length of her jaw. She sucks in a breath, her breasts rising with the deep inhale. All the while, I watch her full lips, consumed with the idea of kissing her again and again.
“Say it again,” I ask. My voice is gone husky and dark in a way I haven’t ever heard myself speak.
“Merrick.”
My name on her lips—I could moan at the beautiful sound of it.
“We can’t.”
Her hair is soft under my fingertips where they pause at her hairline. I lower my forehead to hers until our breaths are mingled, my warmth seeping into her and vice versa. “No one has to know.” My heart races under her touch as she lays her hands on my chest, her fingers roaming over the material of my shirt.
The velvet of her skin brushes against me as she tilts her face. The tip of her nose brushes mine. Our lips are so close, and it would take so little for them to meet. My eyelids lower till my vision is little more than a slice of her image. She has closed her eyes too.
But her hand goes firm between us, pushing me away ever so slightly. “There is too much at risk. I have to think about my son.” And she’s biting her lip again.
I groan, pulling away and trying to suck in air that doesn’t smell deliciously like her. “I’m going to need you to stop doing that.” White dots dance behind my eyelids as I press my palms against my face.
“Doing what?”
“Biting your lip. Looking so kissable.Fuckable.” She turns another shade of red. From pink to crimson and now as red as a tomato. “I love making you blush,” I finish, offering a gentle smile.
Valentina gives me a tentative grin in return. A small truce. An understanding.
“Just think about coming, please.” I turn back toward the table, trying not to sag with disappointment. When I pull my chair out and look up, she’s still standing at the door. An angel in blue.
“I will consider the offer.” She pulls the door open and disappears on the other side.
Chapter Twelve
Merrick
A long, dark staircase leads down to a spell-locked door. Like bugs crawling over my skin, there’s a warning in the air. Residual effects from the spell or my own intuition, I can’t really be sure. Cold metal cuffs hang heavy in my hands.
I run my palm over the smooth, metal walls that lead down, down, down... My vision adjusts, but the doorknob is still just a slim outline I have to squint to notice. There’s a black that is deeper than that of the evening sky or any place on land. It’s here, in this building they call The Compound. If I continue, I know I’ll be plunged into a never-ending Stygian abyss.
The freezing temperature of the metal sends a cold chill racing up my arm. Some sort of design has been embossed on the knob itself. I can feel it press into my palm as a series of locks click, grind, and twist behind the door. I exhale and swear as a small cloud billows from my lips. The door swings open, whining with the movement.
