“I know.” It’s obvious. She was so startled when I drew her aboard my horse.This is inappropriate.And I could see it when Asher finally unleashed his truths: her wide eyes, the sudden flush on her cheeks when he mentioned being on his knees or bent over a rail.
Asher narrows his eyes, studying me. “She’s afraid you’ll hurt her. That you’ll force her.”
He might be angry, but he’s still so protective. I wonder when she told him this, but it must have been before she met me. I wonder ifhe’sthe one who’s afraid I’ll hurt her.
I keep my voice low. “I’m no blushing virgin, Asher. But I’ve never forced anyone to my bed. I have no intention of starting now.”
I have no idea what part of that affects him, but his pupils seem to grow darker, and his eyes hold mine for the longest moment before skipping away. His voice quiets further. “Are you going to let me go?”
There’s a wariness to this question. An uncertainty. At first I think the reason is obvious: he doesn’t want to be held captive. He doesn’t want me to fuck with him. It’s possibly even deeper than that: he doesn’t want to be dragged back to Incendar, where he’ll be put to death or forced to watch the princess marryme.
But as I inhale to tell him thatof courseI intend to let him go, I realize that this might not be the right answer at all.
Because there’s no freedom for Asher in Astranza. He’s a marked man, and he certainly can’t go back to the Hunter’s Guild. If I release him, I might as well give him back to Prince Dane myself.
I’ve taken too long to answer, and his gaze sharpens, his voice turning a little belligerent. “Or are you just going to set me on—”
“Hush.” I reach out and rest my hand against his neck, and Asher goes abruptly silent. Emotions flash across his face. First the flare of panic that someone has touched him, quickly followed by an odd mix of rebellion as every muscle in his upper body goes taut. But I leave my hand there and he exhales, his frame softening. The wolf, settling under my hand.
This is different from the way I touched him before. Because of the way we’re lying, my hand has fallen against the side of his neck, and it puts my thumb right over his windpipe, just in the hollow of his jaw. It’s intimate and vulnerable in a way I didn’t quite intend.
I can’t quite make myself let go, however. There’s something addictive to this. I move my thumb along his chin, feeling the start of beard growth there, softer than mine would be, which is rather intriguing. It’s rare that I touch another man like this, especially in the dark, in the middle of the night. Especially inbed. In truth, I’ve been with a man once before, but it was years ago, and nothing like this. Then I was newly king, and barely a man myself. It was aggressive and reckless and occasionally violent—and very short-lived, for all the same reasons.
I’m older now, and this is nothing like that. I’m not entirely surewhatthis is. But I let my finger drift along Asher’s skin, feeling his pulse beat under my palm.
“You’re mine for now,” I say.
He swallows, and his breath trembles. Good? Bad? I can’t quite tell. Maybe he’s not sure, either. It warns me to tread carefully.
I trace another path along his throat. “Sleep, Asher. We’ll leave at first light.”
He nods.
I move to pull away, but he catches my wrist. His eyes catch the barest gleam of light, and they hold mine, unflinching. But then he tugs my arm a bit closer, and he tucks it against the mattress in front of him, both hands loosely wrapping around my forearm. I don’t understand his intent, especially when that’sallhe does, and his eyes simply fall closed.
But then I think about the way he snapped at the princess when she asked why he wouldn’t let her help him. I think about the waysanctuarymade him yield, when money and power held no sway.
I think about the fact that Jory demanded that I unchain him, but since the moment he followed me into the inn, Asher hasn’t asked. Not even once.
His breath is already evening out, and I study him in the darkness. I can’t quite believe how much has changed in the space of a day. Fromthe way the princess hid her identity to meet me, to my kidnapping and subsequent escape, to the prospect of nefarious dealings within Astranza that led to our immediate departure.
But perhaps the most surprising is the vicious assassin who started the day by taking down one of my best soldiers and forcing me out of the palace—and is now falling asleep beside me, clutching my forearm the way a frightened child would hold on to a doll.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Assassin
Idon’t know what wakes me, just thatsomethingdoes. I’m no stranger to the sounds of the night, so I lie in the dark and listen. Wind whistles against the shutters, but inside this room, silence hangs heavy. The king is beside me, his breathing soft from sleep, the princess and Lady Charlotte nothing more than quiet shadows on the other pallet.
Beyond that, nothing.
Maybe I’m just cold. The hearth seems to have dwindled, and I can’t bear the weight of these woolen blankets against the raw flesh of my shoulder.
I turn my head to look at the king.Ky.His sharp features are soft from sleep, his breathing slow and even. There’s a part of me that’s shocked he drifted off. His weapons are on the floor, hardly out of reach. I might be chained to his arm, but I’m quick. I could cut his throat and disappear in the night before any of them even knew I was gone. He didn’t even keep another soldier in theroom.
But I won’t. And maybe it’s obvious I won’t. Maybe that’s why he’s asleep at all.
I can still feel the weight of his hand against my throat. The slow stroke of his thumb under my chin. Just the memory of it sends a shiver through me.
