Fresh tears burned the backs of her eyes. She couldn’t imagine a life where he didn’t exist; she couldn’t even fathom the idea of it. Even if they were no longer together romantically, she didn’t want any harm to befall him, and that was the truth. She certainly didn’t want to cause his death. “Of course I would have cared.”
“Only because our lives are linked.”
“No, not because of that?—”
“Then—”
“Stop cutting me off every time I try to explain myself. Nikator, Iloveyou,” she whispered through her blurring vision. “I never want to hurt you. I want to be with you and I did something stupid, I understand that, but I would never put you in real danger. I’m sorry for my part in the coup. I—I want to fix this.Please.”
He stared at her without an ounce of emotion and she would have thought that her words hadn’t affected him if she hadn’t noticed the slight twitch of his muscles, the stiffening of his spine, and the way he closed his eyes. He exhaled. Calming himself, she imagined. When he snapped his eyes open, there was a storm brewing in them.
“Nikator?” She reached forward and when he didn’t immediately pull away, her fingers glided over his rough stubble and she searched his eyes for something other than winter’s touch. She could forgive him for many things—for even thinking of taking her back to Drakkon Muyang, for his callousness, for his harsh words—if only he would look at her with love once more. “Please, Nikator. Believe me when I say I love you. Today, yesterday, the day before, and the weeks before that—Iloveyou.”
“Even your lies are so sweet,” he murmured.
Her face fell.
He wouldn’t ever believe her, would he? No matter what she did for him, he would think she was lying the entire time. It felt as though he had stabbed her through the heart and twisted the blade; her chest ached, and her knees quivered against one another. “Nikator?—”
He brushed a thumb over her lower lip and her breath hitched at the sudden contact. His gaze didn’t soften in the least, even as his fingers trailed over to her wet cheeks, swiping at the fallen tears. He framed her face with both hands, staring down at her with burning eyes.
Biyu remained still—shock coursing through her at the abruptness of the moment. She had thought that he would never want to touch her again, even if he had stared at her like a starving man earlier that day.
He ignited desire within her and she inhaled sharply as his fingers dragged over her skin.
She wanted more of him, even if he didn’t want her anymore. She felt pathetic to even think like that, but she wanted every part of him. She wanted to be closer to him, to feel his hands run over her body, to feel every inch of him.
He leaned closer, his breath warming her as he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. The world disappeared around her until it was just the two of them. Biyu hooked her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as fervently. His hands roamed her back, squeezing, exploring, fitting against her curves perfectly. Unlike his usual tender and slow kisses, this one was demanding, rough, and possessive.
She could hardly breathe, her head growing light as their kisses turned to fire. He yanked her flush against his body, and she could feel every muscle rippling on his frame. She tilted her head back for air and he dragged his mouth over the hollow of her throat. An excited shiver ran through her and she gripped onto him tightly as his teeth grazed against her flesh.
Nikator’s grip on her hips tightened and his mouth locked with hers again. They stumbled back until she slammed into a tree, their kiss growing messy. Her hair unraveled from its updo, tumbling down her shoulders. He broke away suddenly and fisted his hand over her skirt.
For a moment, they both stared, their breathing heavy. Her chest rose and fell, and his attention flicked down to her heaving breasts, then up to her flushed face. He rubbed his thumb over her swollen lower lip, parting her mouth.
“Do not mistake this for forgiveness,” he murmured. “I can never trust you again, princess. This changes nothing.”
Just as abruptly as he had touched her, he pulled away. He spun on his heels and walked to the horse, leading it away from the stream and checking on the supplies. Biyu was left gasping against the tree, mortification, shock, and …painstabbing through her. He had kissed her like he hated her and she hadenjoyed it. She was crushed. She yearned to be in his arms again, and yet she knew he hated her.
35
The daysof travel blurred together. Nikator largely ignored her and while she had tried to converse with him from time to time, it usually ended in two ways: either he ignored her and didn’t say a word, or they argued about the same thing over and over. Eventually, Biyu grew tired of trying to convince him that she loved him, that she was sorry, and that he should believe her, so she became quiet. And thus, the past few days were spent with hardly a word between them. They also remained in a rural part of the empire, it seemed, since they hadn’t passed by a village or city yet.
“There should be a village up ahead,” Nikator said quietly.
The sun began to crest on the horizon; they likely had another half hour before it set. Relief pooled in Biyu’s chest at the thought of a warm bed and a filling meal. She was bored of eating dried foods and meat stews.
Biyu sat stiff in the saddle, doing her best not to touch him too much. “Why is it taking so long to get back to the palace?”
He didn’t answer.
“Hm?”
Finally, he sighed. “What do you know about traveling? The only places you’ve traveled are between your room and the other rooms in the palace.”
“I also traveled to the gardens,” she said with an eye roll. He was wholly unhelpful. The only reason she wanted to know was so she could plan her escape better. If she knew they were, say, a few days from the palace, the urgency would be kicked up a few notches. But as it was now, she hadn’t found a good opening to slip away from him. It was like he slept with one eye open. Any time she would get up in the middle of the night, he would ask where she was going. Half the time it was to relieve herself, but the other half had been to leave him.
“My apologies,” he said dryly. “How could I forget your weekly five-minute stroll down to the gardens.”
