My jaw is tight and my nerves are fried when I hear the doors to my study burst open with a loud crack, followed by the delicious scent of a spring morning in bloom. My wildflower. I know it’s Azalea fuming in the doorway before I turn to look at her. And Sky’s Divine, she is breathtaking, even when she stares at me with murder in her eyes.
I make no attempt to keep my gaze from dipping down to admire the perfect curvature of her tits as she crosses her arms over her chest. Part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s doing it on purpose to push them up further and taunt me, as if that cinched corset hugging and squeezing every one of her curves in a way I wish I could wasn’t distracting enough.
When I finally drag my eyes up to her face, her nose and brows are scrunched in a way that conveys both repulsion and rage. Honestly, I think it’s cute how she pretends that she doesn’t enjoy the way that I ogle her. By now, I know her well enough to know it brings her a sense of triumph that she has that effect on me.
“You took my books.” She stomps across my study until the tops of her thighs brush against my desk. Somehow, there’s both barely any space between us and far too much.
She pulls her lips into a tight line. They’re painted a deep ruby shade that matches the skirt of her dress, and I momentarily imagine the myriad of ways I could ruin it.
“Your books? Funny. I was sure that was my library you were in.”
“And whose fault is that?” she fires back, quirking her brow.
I let out an amused chuckle. Of course she’s right. I absolutely took away the books she was looking at yesterday. I wasn’t even aware that those books were in the library to begin with, but they held knowledge that was too dangerous for her to discover.
“Extra fiery today, aren’t we? What a treat,” I tease, hoping that if I get her temper high enough, she’ll forget the original reason she came to my study. I need her to forget about the damned books.
“Just put them back, and I won’t bother you in your precious study anymore.” She gives me an insincere smile, dropping her hands to her hips.
“Who says I want that?”
She rolls her eyes, but she has no idea the truth lying within my words. I’m a man starved of many things that she is the answer to, and I am willing to devour every morsel she is willing to give me. Azalea chews her bottom lip, clearly debating her next words carefully. Finally, I hear her release a soft sigh, and her angry resolve seems to melt away completely.
“Braxton pl—” Her eyes widen, and she stops herself from saying the one word that would actually be considered begging. My Wildflower is too proud for that. “It’s my only happy place.”
An odd mixture of pain and excitement fills my veins. Pain that it’s the only place that makes her happy, but excitement that somewhere in this castle, inmycastle, is her happy place. That makes my next words that much harder to say.
“The library is open to you once again, but those books have been removed and discarded.”
“Discarded?”
I give a stiff nod.
Her face falls into that look of defeat that I hate. Seeing bit by bit of her defiance chip away brings me no joy. I prefer to get her riled up and watch the fire inside her come alive.
“I—” I hesitate, but don’t stand a chance when I see a glimmer of hope rise in her eyes. “I promise that I won’t lock you out of the library again.”
The hope dims. “But the books?”
“I told you they’ve been discarded.” I drop my eyes down to my desk in hopes she won’t be able to detect the lie within my words.
In actuality, those books are stacked on top of my dresser in my room, and I plan on going through them to see if there’s anything of use for me within their bent and torn pages.
Azalea’s lip curls. “You just can’t stand to see me happy, can you? You might as well lock up the library again if you’re going to control what I can read,” she spits.
I roll my eyes, but my lips tilt into a smirk. “Always with the dramatics. You know there are plenty of other places in the castle for you to explore. You could take a walk in the gardens, perhaps.”
“It’s cold.” Azalea’s words are curt as she keeps her eyes on me, studying my reaction and waiting for me to argue.
My eyes drift to the window next to me, where sunlight is beaming into my study. I know from my own experience this morning, when picking the freshly bloomed forget-me-nots for Azalea’s bouquet, that it is a far cry from being cold outside.
“Right.” I blow out a breath. “You could—”
“Let me stop you there, Your Highness.” Her title for me is drenched in sarcasm. “Whatever suggestion you make, I’m going to find a reason to hate it.”
My jaw tightens. “Well, that seems childish.”
Azalea’s spine goes straight at my response. Placing her palms flat against my desk, she leans forward, her lips curling around her teeth.
