How loyal has she been to him? Has he taken those perfect lips of hers? Does he know what it’s like to hear her moan softly as he drives his tongue into her mouth? Does he understand the feral feeling of when her mouth parts just enough to tease you, but not give you everything you need?
The thought of not knowing nearly chokes me as my body stiffens. Because right now, I know she doesn’t belong to me. Question is, though . . . does she belong to him?
So I retract my hand, causing her to cry out in frustration. That little cry, it’s just enough confidence I need to retreat. When her eyes open to mine, questions swarming in them, I say, “See, you will always fucking be mine.”
And with that, I turn away from her and grip my pillow with my hands, swearing not to move, not to even look her way, because if I do, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself this time.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone too?” I bellow as I slam my hand against my desk, startling Pickering back.
The moment it was reported to me that Keller had not only escaped but had killed Banamaor and simply walked out of the castle without anyone turning their goddamn head, I threw my glass of whiskey against the wall.
How?
How the fuck was that possible?
The man was a pile of flies on the floor. He could barely lift his head when we saw him in his cell. How did he have the ability and strength to escape, find his way to Torskethorpe, capture the princess, and take her away?How the hell was that possible?
“We severely underestimated him,” my brother says from the chair where he sits with a tumbler of Scotch in his hand. “And are we positive she’s gone?”
Pickering nods his head. “That’s what our palace source just said. They’re not releasing that information to the public, because they don’t want to create worry.”
“Do they know where he took her?” I ask.
Pickering shakes his head. “No. They’ve heard nothing. The only reason we know it was Keller is because we’re assuming. They didn’t believe Fitzwilliam was back from his fishing trip.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say, dragging my hand over my face. “They still believe he went fucking fishing? I swear, the people there get more stupid with each passing year.” I take a deep breath. “Does Magnus know yet?”
Pickering shakes his head. “No. It hasn’t been reported to him. He’s currently on vacation. Won’t be back for a week.”
“Then we have a fucking week. Call the Sotherbys and see if they know anything, if Lilly has tried to contact their son. Reach out to our source at the palace too, see if they’ve heard anything. Dig for any information. Any lead.” Pickering nods. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
Once the door is shut, my brother says, “Told you, you should have kept him chained.”
“He was too goddamn weak to make it to the bathroom with the chains, he was pissing all over himself.” I drag my hand over my face. “The point wasn’t to kill him.”
“What was the point?” my brother asks.
“To drive him mad, like he drove us mad. To take over his precious fucking country, destroy the forests he so proudly protected. To use every last inch of that moss as biological solar and sell it to Magnus. And while we give him the keys to the country, Fitzwilliam would rot away in his cell for eternity. That was the goddamn plan.”
He takes a sip of his Scotch, then lowers his glass. “Seems like you have a week to fix it.”
“No, brother,wehave a week to fix it. Because I’m not going down without you. We’re in this together.”
ChapterTwenty-Nine
LILLY
Desire will make you do some really foolish fucking things . . . like let your ex-fiancé nearly finger you when you shouldn’t even allow him to touch you.
The only way to describe last night was charged.
Anger.
Tension.
Frustration.
