“A bastion of giddy bliss,” he said flatly.
Alexander smiled softly. “Good enough for me.”
That afternoon, Marius headed for the arena, thankful that there would be no balance exercises or conditioning today. He needed to hit something. He needed to fight. After what happened with Alexander that morning, it was clear the visions were back, and only exhausting himself physically would keep them at bay. Goddess, was he losing his mind?
He found Harlow waiting for him inside the ring and felt his dragon stir, stretching and sniffing in her direction. Her water-lily scent hit him like an avalanche, and his body kicked, coiled, and tensed. She had the audacity to smile at him. No, not just a smile, she beamed like he was the best part of her day. Fuck, he wanted her.
Everything they’d talked about and what Raven had told him came flooding back into his mind, and a frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. She didn’t want marriage. Well, what did she want?
“What’s your problem?” she asked. “You look like someone peed in your porridge.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why would anyone pee in another person’s porridge? That’s sick.”
“Exactly. Who was the sicko? Who hurt you? I’ll knock them into next week.” She held up her fists and faked a jab toward his face.
He ran a hand over his face. “Where’s Brantley?” he drawled. Goddess, it sounded childish even to his own ears.
“Running late. Whelp is still sick, but he’s coming anyway. Crib cough. He sent a falcon. Will be here any minute.” Her voice was soft, concerned. She strode toward him, and his breath caught. Her hand landed on his back.
“Come with me.” She tenderly guided him toward the water station. “Let’s have a drink.” She filled a glass for him and handed it to him. He lifted it to his lips. “What’s really going on? Are you nervous about fighting Brant today? You shouldn’t be. You’re a strong fighter, but if you want to work on balance another day, we can.”
He rested a hand on the water station, his talons extending from his knuckles to graze the wood. “I want to fight. I need to fight.”
Her brows squeezed together. “You’re having a bad day and you need to work some things out? Don’t worry—you’ll have your chance.” Her hand came to rest on his, the tips of her fingers absently stroking the length of his talons.
He scoffed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” She removed her hand as if she thought her touch had hurt him. Damn, she was a fine actress. She looked legitimately confused.
He met her gaze. Marius had spent his life and death as a leader. He wasn’t a child, and he didn’t lean on formalities. He prided himself on being direct. Why waste words or energy? He wasn’t bound by the expectations of the royal family anymore, and he had nothing to lose that wasn’t already gone.
“We’ve already established you’re not interested in marriage,” he said brashly. “I’ve already paid you. You don’t have to force yourself to touch me or pretend to be concerned about me. I know why you’re here.” He watched her squirm under the intensity of his gaze.
“I thought it was obvious I was here to train you,” she snapped.
“Because you need the money.” His jaw tensed.
“Exactly. Like I told you I did.” She raised an eyebrow. “I train you. You pay me. That’s how these things work.”
“You’re a fine trainer.”
She balked and raised her chin. “Then what the fuck is the problem?”
“What type of lady uses that language?” he murmured.
“We just established I’m no longer a lady. I’m only trying to figure out what’s going on here, Marius. And don’t use words with me if you don’t want me to spit them back at you.” She placed her hands on her hips.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“Fuck,” she returned, louder this time. “If you know my family’s dirty history and you still want me as your trainer, then why are we even talking about this? My dad was an idiot. He tried to suck up to Eleanor, okay, because he thought she would win. I’m not him. I’ve already promised you I’m not trying to manipulate you into marriage.”
“That’s not what I have a problem with.” He stepped closer to her, watching her. As she drew in his scent, her nostrils flared and her chest expanded. Above parted lips, her pupils widened and her body went soft, leaned in.
“What, then?” Her voice was as soft as a breath.
“This. The way you’re looking at me like you want me. The way you touch me. The way you admitted you wanted to kiss me.”
A blush rose in her cheeks. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
