“N-not because I care for him. Certainly not,” she rushed, her own expression morphing into disdain. She didn’t care if he died, but killing him at her sister’s wedding? How were they going to explain that to His Majesty? She doubted he would be thrilled at the prospect of murder at his event … But then again, this was Drakkon Muyang they were talking about. He’d probably perk up in his throne at the mere taste of macabre entertainment.
Pushing the dark imagery from her mind with a head shake, she continued, “Regardless, it’s my sister’s wedding. I don’t want to have to explain why we killed His Majesty’s vassal, and that’ll open up a host of other problems. Like people asking why you care so much. And why you would go so far, and … and maybe they’ll find out about the marriage spell …”
Her voice trailed to a whisper, and then to something even softer than that. A question irked her and she couldn’t help butpeer up at him. Why did he care? Why did he want Jian dead for something as small astouchingher? For insulting her?
He claimed it was because he didn’t want another man touching what was his, but … but shewasn’this. He didn’t even want this forced marriage. He didn’t even want to kiss her again after their first, and last, mistake doing that.
So why?
Biyu began to slip her hands away, but he pressed his own over one of her palms against his cheek. Her breath stole away from that small action, and her other arm fell limply to her side. It was like the strength was leaving her. More confusion addled her brain.
There was too much on her mind to care about these trivial feelings—she had a mission to accomplish. She had to break the wards. Assist her brother in slaying the wicked emperor. But more than anything, the questions plagued her.
Why did her heart race whenever he was near?
Why did she want to lean into his touch?
Why did she crave him, when he was the last person she needed?
He was her enemy. He was the man who had ruined her life. He would be the first to toss her in the dungeons, the first to bury his knife into her back, the first to kiss her like shemattered.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nikator murmured. He was still holding her hand against his face. Her body warmed at the softness of his voice; usually, he sounded so rough and ill mannered. Sarcastic, moody, annoyed. And yet right now his attention was solely on her, his words like a caress, and his touch gentle.
“Like what?” she managed.
“Like you hate me.”
A breathy laugh escaped her and she broke their contact by pulling away. He let her and watched as she cradled her handto her chest. She couldn’t meet his gaze as she said, “I don’t … I don’t hate you.” And the most shocking part? She realized it was true. She didn’t hate him. How could she, after they had spent so much time together? After she had kissed that pretty mouth of his? After he had shown up for her time and time again when she needed him? More confusion twisted in her chest and her words barely came out. “And you know thatyou’rethe one who hatesme.”
It was his turn to grab her face now. His large hands spanned across her cheeks, craning her neck so she was staring directly up at him. He bent down so his face was even closer, inches apart. “I haveneverhated you, Princess Biyu. I don’t think I could ever hate you.”
Every part of her blazed to life. Heat coiled in her belly, her face flushing where he touched her.
Her eyebrows knitted together. “Never? That’s … not true.”
“I wish it wasn’t.”
“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me for years. You’ve always hated me.” The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. She grasped the front of his tunic, her voice shaky. “You’ve always looked at me like I was something … something horrible.”
“Oh, if only you knew my true thoughts.” He said it so softly that she didn’t quite catch it completely. Her mind pieced together the words, and yet they didn’t click. Even when he pressed himself closer, his body heat nearly scalding her, and his warm breath tickling her neck. “You have always been the most beautiful woman in every room. In every hall. In every memory of mine. I have yet to find anyone else who plagues me as you have plagued me all these years, Biyu. You are the colors of this world. I am a mad man tangled in these webs you’ve spun around me and I have no way out, and I wish for nothing more than for you to look my way. All these years.All these years.”
Biyu stared at him in disbelief.
Her heart fluttered.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and her throat constricted. “You shouldn’t say these things to me.”
“Why?” Softly, gently. He traced a finger along her jaw and caught one of her tears. “Do you hate me so much that you can’t bear my inner thoughts?”
No. It was actually the opposite. She would burst at the seams with these confusing, conflicting emotions that she wouldn’t know what to think or feel anymore.
Biyu inhaled slowly, then exhaled, her breath wrenching out from her shakily. She wasn’t beautiful. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t anything other than plain old Princess Biyu. But he spoke about her like she was something precious. Like she was more than a prisoner. More than just her royal title. Like he saw her for what, and who, she truly was.
Something splintered in her. The barrier around her heart cracked and fissured until she could feel his warmth worming its way inside.
And then suddenly, she couldn’t bear it any longer.
Biyu tightened her hold on his shirt and stood on her toes, capturing his mouth with ease. At first, surprise made his body stiffen, but it only lasted a few seconds. A soft groan pulled from him and he leaned down to kiss her harder. Her hands spanned over his hard muscles, searching, admiring, and exploring every inch of his chest, his arms, his back. He kissed her again, turning her head to deepen the kiss, for his tongue to creep into her mouth and dance with hers.
