He takes mercy on me and continues, “But no, he didn’t confess anything upon his return.”
“Is he always like that? Or did the way he was speaking confirm for you that he was”—the staff enters the room to drop off a blossom-flame tart—“involved?” I choose the last word carefully. I don’t want to give away what we are talking about to any humans.
I dip my fork into the vanilla orchid cream that fills the pastry.
“Aiden has always been an arrogant bastard. I can’t be sure if he was just trying to mess with me or if he was gloating. I’m continuing to look into it though.” His dark eyes track my fork as I lick the cream off.
My cheeks warm. I blurt, “Do you know anything about a prophecy that refers to me as a ‘mirrored princess’?”
He leans back in his chair. “I’ve never heard of any prophecy that includes that term.” He thinks for a second longer. “The High Priestess reviewed the history and prophecies after our births. I’d think she would have mentioned something like that. Why do you ask?” His burning gaze sweeps back to me.
His question throws me off. I’d assumed Niko filled him in about the witch. “Just something I thought someone called me.” I return my attention to my plate, moving the dessert around.
He places his hand over mine. “You seem nervous, Nis.”
The name sounds wrong coming from him—forced. I swallow the instinct to tell him not to call me that. We’re supposed to be bound together in a matter of days. I can’t afford to make him wonder. The touching, the nickname… he’s using this dinner to build intimacy between us.
It’s exactly what I implied we needed not so long ago at the memorial.
So why does the realization make me want to run and not stop until I’m—where? Back at the Homestead with Ophe?Out of this world all together? Heat fills my stomach when I realize where I want to run. Or rather to whom.
Caspien leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “What am I doing wrong, Princess?”
I fight back a guilty wince at his use of my title. I look up to the ceiling, shaking my head. “You’re not… I just…” I take a breath. “It’s just all happening really quickly. In my head you’re still Nova’s betrothed, not mine. This life was never mine.”
The words may not be the whole truth, but they are true.
“I understand.” He nods to himself. “The mate bond will take away all these thoughts.” He runs a knuckle down my cheek to my jaw, giving me a knockout smile certain to work on any other female.
But it’s doing nothing for me. In fact, it’s having the exact opposite effect.
I’m supposed to be bound to this man in a week, and my body wants nothing to do with his touch. My chest tightens, and it’s hard to breathe. My mind flashes to the one person who does make my body react. If I weren’t already planning on leaving Castara, this would lock the decision in stone.
“We’ll get there,” he soothes, his features soft as he reassures me.
After that he shifts the subject to something lighter. We spend the next hour trying to get to know each other better. Which only solidifies for me that I have nothing in common with this male.
Once the plates are cleared, he insists on walking me back to my room. With each step, he subtly brushes against me. With each touch, another chill slides over my body. I’m glad when we reach my door, eager to make a quick escape. Instead, he grabs my waist and pulls me towards him.
I freeze as he snakes his hand around me to the exposed back of my dress. The heat of his hand feels like ice on my chilled skin. Before I can react, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. It’s forceful this time, not the soft brush of the earlier kiss. His tongue pushes against my tight lips.
Shocked, I gasp, wriggling to free myself from his touch. Ice is spreading through every nerve of my body. He steps us backwards into my door, his wet tongue sliding across the seam of my lips, demanding entrance.
The cold is seeping into my bones now and snaps me out of the shock. I shove his chest. He doesn’t budge. Instead, his hips press into me, leaving no doubt how aroused he is.
I push again, this time wrenching my head to the side. “Please.” The word comes out shakier than I want.
He moves his lips to my neck.
My body begins to shiver uncontrollably, but I can’t form words. I push harder, and he finally pulls his head away. When I look up at him, there is no denying the frustration in his eyes.
He must feel the tremors because after a few blinks, he asks, “Are you okay?” Tilting his head, he runs his hands up and down my arms.
“I th-think I’m s-sick,” I manage, shivering harder.
His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to decide if I’m lying, but he must believe me when the shaking gets worse.
“M-maybe it was th-the food.”
