“No.” She took his face in her hands. “Not my title. My name.”
His lips twisted into a grin. “Biyu.”
She was used to him calling her Princess Biyu, Princess this, Princess that. But never just her name, and hearing it out loud—something as simple as being called her name—sent a shudder of excitement racing through her.
She brought her mouth to his and kissed him again, desperately, because she knew this was wrong and that they would always be enemies, but she wanted to be close to him in that moment. She wanted to memorize the way his arms felt around her, the softness of his lips, the feel of her fingers running through his silken hair. She needed to have this, because when she succeeded in her plan, there was no way she could do this again.
A drizzle of rain stopped their fervor. Thunder boomed and the sky lit with spidery lightning lines against the grayish clouds. She hadn’t even realized the change of weather—though the extreme humidity should have given it away. In mere minutes, the rain came down on them hard; her hair plastered over her face and neck and her clothes stuck to her body like a second skin.
Nikator tipped his head back to stare at the sky and another crackle sounded in the distance. “We should go inside.”
“I—” The protest died on her lips. Why had she almost said she didn’t want to leave? That she didn’t want to stop kissing him? The almost-admission made her face flush with embarrassment. She could still taste him, though now there was a hint of rain mingled with it.
They both remained there for a moment longer, looking at one another. The pull between them had definitely changed; it was almost magnetic, this feeling between them. Like she wanted to be closer to him, to be in his arms again, and feel his lips against hers. And yet now that they were apart, with the rain showering on them and the cooling temperature, fear needled in her chest, threading doubts in and out of her heart.
Nikator was her enemy.
What was she thinking, kissing him like that?
She couldn’t fall for this strange, electric, heated pull they had toward one another. She admitted that he was beautiful, powerful, lethal—and everything she physically wanted—but they wereenemies.
She pounded that into her mind. Even as he stared at her like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss her again, or slam his blade through her.
He, too, seemed to be regretting what he’d done. She could see it in his face. The horror in his eyes. The confusion.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Of course he would regret kissing her.
“Let’s … let’s go.” Her voice cracked as she hurried around him and to the bench where her clothes were. She grabbed them and embraced them tightly, as if the wet dress put a significant barrier between them. She could feel him staring at her, but she kept her head low and headed for the exit; he sighed and followed behind her.
She was stupid to kiss him.
And even more stupid to enjoy it.
21
The kiss meant nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Biyu kept telling herself that as she walked through the gardens with her sister. It was a one-time thing, she repeated like a mantra. A one-time release that rid herself of these strange, inappropriate desires she felt toward him. That was all there was to it.
It meantnothing.
Nikator was certainly acting like it meant nothing, and she could too.
So much had happened since she had last seen Liqin that it felt like years ago instead of only a few weeks. Her sister looked as prim and proper as always—hair done immaculately, jade jewelry matching her similarly colored dress, and that perpetual sneer she always donned. This time, it was even more severe than usual as Liqin glared at her fiancé, Guo Zihao, who walked with them in the gardens. He was a simple man—a soldier—and had been rewarded with the opportunity to marry Liqin since he had done some great feats in a battle against the rebel forces. He was also alarmingly tall—maybe an inch shorter than Nikator, but well above the average Huo man—and had a giant scarrunning up his neck and over his cheek, and another over one side of his mouth.
Biyu’s fiancé, Jian, was also with them. Liqin and Biyu strode ahead, while the two men spoke to one another a few paces behind. And behind them were the guards; Biyu could practically feel Nikator’s razored glare set at the back of Jian’s head. A furtive look over her shoulder revealed just that.
She tried not to think of Nikator too much. Ever since their kiss three days ago, neither of them had spoken to the other. Other than the awkwardgood morningsandgood nights, there was no reason to speak. Especially when Biyu was stuck in her room and Nikator guarded her from outside. She didn’t know why he’d decided to guard from outside her room, but it disappointed her. She actually wanted him in the bedroom, for some odd, unfathomable reason. There was a distance between them that their shared kiss had lengthened. Biyu should have been happy for it, but … but shecouldn’tbe.
No, she told herself.She was happy.
She didn’t need him, anyway.
The kiss meant nothing.
