Every muscle in my body turned to rigid wood.
“Me first,” he said.
Right.
Him first.
So he can clear the room and make sure I’m safe.
Not because he cares for me, but because I’m his tool for accessing the Domus.
Of-fucking-course.
I turned the knob and shoved into the room,mybody entering first.
“Etarla,” he growled. He roughly grabbed my shoulder, prepared to throw me aside as he examined the empty space.
I thrust his hand away, kicked the door closed, and all that simmering volatility boiled over. “What?” I demanded, rounding on him. “What’s got you so angry, Harthon?”
He jerked back, then slowly chuckled in disbelief. “The fact that you’re asking me this after you barged into your room without a thought of who could be in here suggests that what you did on that terrace wasn’t just temporary foolishness.”
I exploded.
“I’m not yours,” I roared. “You’ve made itabundantlyclear the last few days that you don’t want me to be.” I stepped into him, jabbing a finger in his too-hard chest. “Soyou’rethe foolish one if you think you get to judge my actions or make decisions regarding my safety.”
A fire burned behind his eyes, but I kept on going. “I can train with whomever I want to. I can dance with whomever I want to. I can walk into rooms however I want to.” My voice was a shaking snarl. “I owe younothing, except the way into the Domus.”
He abruptly stepped into my space, forcing my finger away and my chin up. His jaw worked, holding back what I knew were angry words. Or maybe I didn’t give him the chance to let them loose. I was too far gone to stop, what happened out on that terrace thrusting ever ugly emotion past my lips. I was done holding them in, done walking on eggshells around this ridiculous situation.
“You told me, back in the Citadel, that you wouldn’t allow yourself to hurt me again. Then you had the audacity to confirmit on the ship. You’ve omitted information from me before, but you’ve never been a liar.” It was my turn to chuckle, though it was hollow. “But that one? That was a fucking lie.”
His hands snapped up, one on my shoulder, the other curling around my neck. Tendons in his neck strained against his skin.
And still—still—he didn’t speak.
I tried to jerk away, but suddenly I was like Matthias, unable to loosen his grip. So I, too, turned to insults.
“No response? No lies to spew?” I taunted, gleefully poking the beast before me. “You’re just going to hold me here, fuming like you are, because you don’t like what I have to say? You’re going to continue barging into my room ahead of me, even though it risks the charade of who I am? You’re going to piss all over the floor when I train with other men?”
He lowered his face, nose bumping mine, and hissed, “I’mPrinceps, Etarla. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
With his grip holding me captive and his head shoving into mine, his presence suffocated me. Frustration burned hot coals in my throat. “You are supposed to be the cold, unshakable PrincepsfuckingHarthon, yet you’re cracking at the seams.”
Stormy, furious eyes darted between mine, that granite jaw working, fingers flexing along my wrists. He gritted out, “I am cold. And I am unshakable.” His nostrils flared on a hot breath. “Except when it comes to you.” Then his lips crashed into mine.
The kiss was hard and aggressive and as livid as his eyes. The hand on my neck caged me as his tongue invaded my mouth, unforgiving. For a moment, I kissed him back, my brain short-circuiting as my traitorous body took what he gave.
Then I regainedcommon senseand bit his lip. Hard. He jerked away, looking very much like a provoked wolf.
“You do not get to do this,” I said, my voice wobbling uncontrollably—not from tears, but from rage. “You made me feel things for you, Harthon. You made me feel likethat wasokay, like you returned those feelings, and then you shoved it back into my face like I’m some toy you can play with. You don’t get to do this to me.”
He offered no response, just fuckingstaredat me.
“What is yourproblem?” I shouted.
“You,” he fired back.
My anger stuttered. “W-what?”
