I flinch at his tone but remind myself who’s in charge here.
You are the king, Roman, act like it.
“We’ve given it all we’ve got, Galen.” I wave him over before patting the bed next to me.
He hesitates a moment before relenting and joining my side.
“Sorin’s likely dead by now and without him, there isn’t a threat to the throne.” My stomach curls at the thought of Sorin not living. Another skeleton looming over my head. “Elora may still have the Stones, but what need do we really have for them?”
He bristles before letting out a long sigh.
“For once,” I say, “let’s just be you and me.” The thought curdles my stomach, but after years of abuse from my father, I know when to use honey rather than vinegar.
“I suppose a break wouldn’t hurt.” He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I’ll give the remaining hunters a week to recover their losses, visit their families. Then we’re back on the hunt.”
His nails scratch against my skin as I pull my hand abruptly away. “That isn’t what we voted on.”
Galen laughs, showing off his perfectly pointed canines.
“I don’t care what the council says.” He rolls his shoulders, as if he’s just rid himself of the burden of their respect. “You shouldn’t either. You’re the king, Roman. You don’t need their vote, not really.” He leans into me. His fingers comb through my dark hair and I’m reminded why it’s been so easy to follow his lead all these years. He pushes our foreheads together, mint and pine waft off of him and it’s the same as it’s always been.
Him and me and this spiral of intoxicating infatuation.
Except now I see him for who he has always been.
The cat does not give his motives away so quickly. He stalks, waits, and is patient with his prey. Gives the bird time to adjust, to relax. And when the bird is comfortable, no longer sees a threat to the always dormant cat, that’s when the cat leaps.
“Little bird,” he whispers. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to trust that what I’m doing is for the greater good. Do you not trust me, Ro? After all of these years keeping you safe.” His fingers dance along my arms.
He’ll never stop.
Never see the pain we’ve caused for the sake of power and revenge for a sister he lost.
He grips the back of my neck, and because his forehead is still pressed to mine, I have nowhere else to look but down.
Down at him, at his chest.
And there, just under his loose, black shirt lies the answer to the riddle going round and round inside of my head.
“I trust you,” I say, sweet like honey. I delicately run my fingers down his chest; he sighs at my touch. His face moves to the junction between my jaw and neck where he kisses me softly. I bite my bottom lip to refrain from flinching, keeping my fingers light until they reach his shirt.
I push it back and kiss his bare chest.
“Roman.”
I slide my tongue across his chest and kiss his collarbone before pulling him back so I can see him. He cradles either side of my face, watching me, before I lean forward and kiss him deeply.
He moans against my lips and my heart cracks in two. One half rejoices while the other mourns.
I open my mouth and his tongue slides over mine. I grip his shoulders tightly with one hand so he can’t pull away. He mimics my movements. Holding my back tightly, pressing me againsthis chest. Putting the least amount of distance between us as possible.
But as the Plague magick from the amulet begins to pool from my mouth to his, he struggles. The black shadows curl around us as he wiggles and tries to move away from me.
“Ro,” he pleas against my lips.
I hold him through his panic. Gripping him tighter to me. His nails claw at my back. His head whips around, breathless pleas escaping from his lips. A tear slides down my cheek, but still I hold strong.
Once I’m sure he’s had enough, I break apart our kiss and lie his paralyzed body onto the bed. He twitches under my touch, his eyes wide and glinting with tears. His mouth is stuck open, black seeping from each corner. I trace his bottom lip with my thumb before gently pressing his mouth closed.
