The flirtation remained in her voice despite the dismissive words. Her gaze lingered on my mouth before sliding away.
"Unfortunately, my business is of a moreserioussort."
Her expression shifted, the seductive edge vanishing. "Guinevere."
Not a question. Of course, she already knew. She always knew.
"Arthur's imprisoned her. Plans to execute her, most likely."
"You came all this way to tell me something I already know?"
I was surprised and couldn't hide it. "I wasn't certain you did know, for if you had, I would have imagined I'd find you in Camelot."
She looked at me and then breathed in deeply, and I could tell something troubled her. Then she turned away, moving toward the balcony where the waves crashed against the rocks far below. "I had to take a break from Camelot for a few days. I had…businessI had to see to."
I walked up behind her, close enough that she could no doubt feel the heat from my body.
"Is that so?"
She didn't move away, though the muscles in her back tensed as I approached. Her dress scooped dangerously low inthe back, open to show the indentations on either side of her upper buttocks. How I'd lavished attention on those dimples once upon a time. I wondered if that was why she turned to look out the window—to show me what I couldn't have.
"The need to touch you is almost suffocating me," I whispered into her ear. "You wore this purposely. To torture me."
"Really, Vaelen, you believe the world revolves around you."
"Around us both, my lady."
The sea was turbulent, raging, which meant something was bothering her. The sea obeyed her moods—calming when she was content, raging when she wasn't. I could hear the sounds of ravens cawing from where they were perched constantly along the cliffs, watching for intruders.
I took another step nearer, my chest nearly brushing against hers, dropping my head until my lips hovered just above the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. The silken fall of her midnight hair caressed my face as I inhaled deeply.
"You smell like the night sky," I whispered. The familiar scent of storm clouds and wild magic filled my senses, stirring memories that were better left buried. "I have missed that scent." I paused. "I have missedyou."
Morgan remained perfectly still, her hands gripping the stone balustrade as the sea crashed violently against the cliff face below. The wind whipped her gown around her ankles, yet she stood unmoved, like a statue carved from alabaster and shadow.
"And you smell like the liar and traitor you've always been," she replied, her voice soft but edged with venom.
"A liar and traitor?" I purred as I leaned down, letting my lips fall to her neck. "My lady, you pain me."
She didn't stop me, so I kissed that alabaster perfection, extending my tongue to taste the salt of her skin.
"What do you want, Vaelen?"
"At the moment?" I responded, kissing along the length of her exposed neck and shoulder. "The words are too crude to repeat."
She laughed. "Come now, when has propriety ever concerned us?"
I cocked my head to the side. "Very well, my dear—I was wondering if your luscious cunt tastes as good as I recall."
She whirled around to face me then and smiled that bewitching smirk I had always been so incredibly fond of. Then she licked her lower lip with that pink kitten tongue, driving me to distraction as only she knew how.
"Did you say the same to Guinevere, I wonder? When your fingers were buried between her thighs?"
There wasn't anger in her expression, but there was something else lurking in those emerald depths—something that I hadn't witnessed before. I chuckled, the sound rough against the backdrop of the crashing waves.
"Come now, is my little raven jealous?"
"Never," she whispered as she looped her arms around my neck with deliberate slowness. "Would you like to know why?"
