A dark smear stands out against the pale skin of her neck, just above her lacy collar. I furrow my brow, tilting my head to the side for a better look.
She frowns as she catches me staring. “What?”
I tap the side of my neck that mirrors where the stain is. “You have something here. Ink, maybe.”
Her cheeks flush and she rubs at the spot on the wrong side. I shake my head, and she scrubs at the other side. The stain doesn’t so much as budge.
“Let me.” Before I can think better of it, I remove my arm from the backrest, push her hand out of the way, and rub my thumb lightly over the smear. Just like her efforts, mine are fruitless.
Or…not quite. In a different way.
I glance at her profile just in time to see her lashes flutter shut at my touch. Her pulse leaps beneath my thumb, the column of her throat trembling from the force of it.
Something about that racing pulse sends my own skittering. My stomach tightens, half with desire, half with the pride of knowing a simple brush of my thumb has that much sway over her. How much more can I ruffle her?
“Hold still,” I say, voice low. Inch by inch, I lean in, half expecting her to pull away as I bring my face closer to her neck. She freezes, even as I lower my mouth to her collar. Even as my lips press against her flesh. Her pulse beats faster now, and her scent fills me. I part my lips and slowly drag my tongue over the stain, tasting bitter ink, the salt of her skin, and something floral like soap or fragrance oil. She releases the smallest squeak, a sound that borders on a whine. My breath hitches as I imagine what other sounds I could coax from her. I’m almost of a mind to try…
But no. That won’t come for free. If she wants more of me, she can beg me with those two words.
Free pass.
I pull away from her, the ink stain no longer visible, and return my arm to the backrest.
She swivels her face to mine, her expression some mix of terror and elation. “You just licked me.”
I run my thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re welcome,” I say with a wink.
I’ve never seen a shade of crimson like the one that blooms in her cheeks. She slaps a hand over her mouth as if recalling the sound she made, then looks pointedly away from me, her gaze locked on the compartment door.
I finally angle myself away from her, sobering from our heated taunting, and slip out of my role…
Or back into it?
It dawns on me what I just did. Everything I said. I hadn’t planned any of that. How does she draw out this side of me? The side that dares her to be bold, only to raise the stakes and act bolder myself. The side that competes with her again and again, not to crush her, but to watch her clash against me.
Who the fuck am I when I’m with her? Am I the confident seducer I was a minute ago? Or the foolish fae male who’s hyperaware of her proximity and scent, like I’m returning to now?
Maybe both.
The compartment door slides open, and Edwina leans forward in her seat as if desperate for the interruption. Monty saunters in with Daphne at his heels. “Oh, good. No one came to blows.” With that, he tosses two dark green velvet blankets at me and Edwina.
She assesses hers. “What is this for?”
“Did you not read the itinerary?” Monty says as he settles in across from us. Daphne nestles into her blanket while Mr. Phillips spreads his over his lap. “It’s about to get cold once we cross the border.”
“Oh, right,” Edwina says, spreading the blanket over her skirt and taking the opportunity to put more space between us. “We’re going to the Winter Court next.”
Her neutral tone tells me she doesn’t realize the significance of our destination.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the blanket folded beside me. William the Poet dreads our next stop. He has from the start. He hoped Edwina might never find out what awaits her there. Because the Winter Court is home to Edwina’s biggest and most influential fan. A queen. The woman who propelledThe Governess and the Raketo fame in Faerwyvae. William the Stage Actor dreads our destination as much as the poet does, for how could he not resent both Edwina and her famous fan for the stage play that stole his career?
Meanwhile, Will…
I release a slow sigh, aware of Edwina’s movements as she nestles beneath her blanket. The taste of her skin sizzles over my tongue.
Will thinks Edwina is brilliant.
Beautiful.
