She blinked, her mind caught on that word—heart. But she kept the blade tip firm against his throat. “He’s going to destroy our world and everyone in it. And you’re just okay with that?”
He just stared at her, expressionless. He seemed bored, even.
She bared her teeth as she said, “You might not care about me anymore, but can you say the same for your people?”
Slowly, he tilted his head at her, his skin grazing the blade’s edge. Finally, she had the upper hand. She was just about to demand that he hand over Lark’s feather when, in a flash, their positions were reversed. She was pressed against the wall, her hands empty.
Her pulse thudded against the knife at her throat.
“Don’t pretend to know what I do and don’t care about,” Grim said, his voice cutting. His eyes burned with intensity, practically sparkling in the dim light. The blade scraped against her skin, as if he was testing it out. As if he might just kill her in this hallway without waiting three weeks to see if she would join them.
But for the first time...she felt hope. Because she knew him, and she could see how he would never abandon his people. He was playing a game, too, and not just blindly following Cronan.
“If you’re against him...I can help you,” she gasped. “We want the same thing.”
“You don’t know what I want,” he said, firmly. He pressed the knife harder, and she felt her skin split. A small drop of blood slid right against the diamond at her throat.
“Maybe not. But I did...once,” she said. “You don’t have to be on his side, just because he’s your ancestor. You have already changed your line by breaking tradition. You stopped the practice of having heirs fight to the death as children. You made Nightshade training less barbaric. You protected your people throughout the curses and the storms. Your people...they trust you. They believe in you.”
The blade dug in sharper, and she said, “I...I believe in you. I know you’ll come back to yourself. I know you’ll...come back to me.”
He was shaking. From rage, maybe...but she could also almostfeelhis self-control unraveling. Because up until now, he had avoided looking at her, as a rule. But now, his gaze dropped, as if he couldn’t help himself.
His eyes raked over her, gaze catching on her leg, bare up to the thigh in its slit. Isla watched his throat bob.
“I wore a dress just like this once,” she said, testing to see his reaction. He easily could have dragged her back to the cell or moved away from her, but he didn’t, so she continued. “That night...I danced in front of you. We were trying to find a sword...”
She didn’t mention that sword was currently sitting in his ancestor’s galaxy room.
“You pressed me against a wall, just like this,” she said, and she heard him swallow again. She reached for the hand not clutching the knife. Carefully, as if this moment was made of glass, she moved it to her thigh, uncurling each and every finger. And he let her. He even had to bend the slightest bit to reach.
His breath caught as his hand flexed against the thin fabric. Her eyes never leaving his, she slowly moved his palm up the length of theslit, toward her hip. She gasped involuntarily as his callused fingers brushed against bare skin.
“You did this,” she said. “And I...I could feel...”
She could feel him now. Right against her stomach. She pressed closer, just the slightest bit, and his gaze intensified.
Her lips parted. That’s where his eyes went next. And for a moment, she wondered if he would really kiss her, with this knife still against her throat. If he would remember her and show her just how much he missed her, against this wall.
His hand curled around her hip, pinning her to him. His eyes flashed with something she had seen in them before. Want.Need.
But then, he ripped away from her.
“Don’t put a blade to my throat unless you intend to use it,” he snarled before pocketing the knife and marching her back down the halls of the dungeon.
GRIM
Grim scowled at his own foolishness. He and Cronan were sitting at the dining table before the rest of the lords joined them. Beforeshejoined them.
Grim had touched her yesterday. And it had been like touching flames. Yet he didn’t want to pull his hand away. This woman was going tokill him. He was not a fool to be lured off the side of a cliff by a temptress.
He was ruler of Nightshade. Cronan’s heir. A warrior through and through—feelinghad been trained right out of him.
But more than just the heat of her skin...he couldn’t forget her words.
You might not care about me anymore, but can you say the same for your people?
For centuries, everything he had endured had been for his realm’s survival. So his pain could somehow have a purpose.
