“I’m sure not,” she scoffed, leaning back on her hands once more. “Looks like you’ll have to bestow security, pleasure, and desire another way, husband.”
His brow arched at that. “Is that so?”
She paused, a glimpse of hesitation sparking. A curiosity he was more than willing to assuage after this heavy conversation.
“I could, you know,” he replied, sitting straighter in his desk chair, hands resting loosely on the armrests where she could see them. Where they’d stay. He didn’t miss her eyes darting warily to them.
“I’d tell you to untie the sash at your waist. Tell you to pull up that godsdamn nightdress that taunts me every fucking night, spread your legs wide, and show me the cunt you won’t let me touch,” he continued conversationally.
“That…is crass,” she said, the words a little breathy.
“Yes, but because I am well educated in reading the words people won’t say, I noticed how your nostrils flared and how your pupils dilated. I noticed the slight bob of your throat and how you leaned imperceptibly closer.” He paused, pointedly dropping his gaze before bringing it back to hers. “I noticed you uncrossed your ankles, your legs opening the barest amount. That would be the desire part because while crass, it also made youwant.”
Her jaw clenched. “Even if that were true, how does that offer security or pleasure?”
“I’m not done,” he said, keeping his hands in place as he leaned towards her. “The security part comes when I tell you I’ll let you return to our rooms alone tonight.”
“How is that security?” she asked in confusion.
“So that when you’re lying in that bed you wish I’d share with you?—”
“I never said that,” she interjected.
“When you’re in that bed,” he continued, “you’ll have security in the knowledge I won’t interrupt you when you eventually give in and drag your own fingers between your breasts, across your stomach, and down lower.”
“That’s my own touch bringing me pleasure, not you,” she retorted.
“But you’ll be thinking of me,” he countered. “You’ll be wondering if I’m right. Wondering what it would feel like to have my fingers inside you rather than your own.” He stood then, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned in close, his next words fanning across her lips. “And those thoughts are what will push you over the edge of pleasure, wife.”
Picking up the book, he handed it back to her before he left her still perched on his desk. He had to because he was seconds away from throwing caution to the wind and taking a chance on touching her. Of showing her what touch could do. What itshoulddo.
But doing so would ruin all the progress he’d made, and tonight was a big step forward. Her composure had slipped, and she’d revealed another part of herself. Another puzzle piece clicking into place.
So he made his way down to the castle catacombs where his preferred workspace was. Because it was either that or go back on his word and see if she really was finding her own pleasure. Or he could go somewhere to find his own release, but as tempting as that was, he’d been doing enough of that on his own lately.
More sins in the shadows would have to suffice for now.
Chapter 25
Kailia
“Mother of Temural!” Kailia cried, her bow in hand and an arrow nocked and aimed before she registered the figure standing inside the sitting room of the royal chambers.
But then she did realize who it was, and she still debated letting that arrow fly. If anything because the way he was looking at her—with that arrogant smirk and heated silver stare—made her think of last night. The words he’d said. The confident way he’d told her what she’d do because of them. How he’d been fucking right. How, despite her conviction tonotlet it happen, she’d found herself with her hand sliding down her torso, over her navel, and lower.
But he’d also been wrong. Because the thought of anyone else touching her made even her own touch turn into something burning and torturous. All the need and lust coiling in her core had vanished at the thought, and instead, she’d found herself in an ice-cold bath to erase the burning on her flesh.
“Serafina?” Cethin asked, that knowing look still on his face despite an obvious attempt to be nonchalant. “You know, mostof the people in this realm don’t dare utter the names of the death god, his wife, or their children.”
“Perhaps among the mortals and even the Fae Courts across the sea, but I know there are worse things to fear in this world than gods and goddesses who are far too busy among other realms to interfere here,” she replied.
Cethin hummed, his gaze raking over her. “Have we graduated from daggers to arrows in your attempts to harm me?”
Slowly she lowered the bow, still holding the arrow to the string with her fingers. “I figured since this deal included your protection, there’s nothing really to stop me at this point. What are you even doing here?”
His brows arched at the sudden change of subject. “I live here, tiny fiend.”
“But you’re never actuallyhere.”
