I hate her for every way she’s hurt me—for how she forgot me so easily. For the loss of my father and the years I suffered from the same rot festering deep in the helachite mines. I hate her for kissing Leland just to please a crowd of people who don’t give a damn about her life.
But even knowing all that, I couldn’t bear to see her frozen on that dais, the rot spreading like floodwater as the rest of her family fled. As her fiancé fled.
No one even seemed to notice that she was the only one left standing there, immobilized as the entire structure began to split apart.
“Kieran, I have to go back! I need to know my family is safe.”
I shake my head, tugging her toward an old willow at the edge of the lake. The rot never spreads into water—it can’t survive in damp conditions. That’s what makes the helachite mines such a living hell: the heat, the dry beat of mineral dust pounding against hot air underground.
I’ve seen too many people lost to the moldering helachite. Seeing it close in on Gen made something inside me snap. Even if I can’t have her, I can’t watch her die from the same malady that took my father.
I part the willow’s branches and pull her inside, guiding her to lean against the trunk. She’s gasping for breath, one hand pressed to her chest. Her damned corset is so tight, cinching her soft waist to an obscenely slender size. No wonder she can’t breath—the fucking thing is strangling her.
“Turn around,” I bark, setting my hands on her shoulders and turning her to face the trunk.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demands, struggling against me as I pull at her dress, revealing the corset beneath. I ignore her jerking movements, working the laces loose. She gasps, dragging in a deep breath.
She turns around, arms crossed over her chest to keep the gown from slipping. The fabric hangs loose, leaving only her thin shift beneath.
“You didn’t have to do that. If we’re seen—”
I cut her off. “Yes, if we’re seen like this it would be a tremendous scandal—but that’s the least of our worries. First the murder, now this? Gen, how bad has the rot become in Crawford?”
She shakes her head, her wavy peach locks tumbling over her shoulder. “The other day at the park was the first incident I’m aware of. The constables haven’t found the killer. They must be here now.”
Of course they haven’t. Queen Penelope all but admitted there would be no punishment for the guilty party. “Has your mother shared anything about the spread of the rot in Naseria since we last spoke?”
She looks at me with such disdain I want to smooth it from her face until she’s panting in my hands. “Since we talked? Kieran, last time we spoke privately you threatened to ruin me. You didn’t even share what you knew about the rot! Now look at me!” She tries to turn, but I cage her in with my arms. “Lace me up. I can breathe again.”
I move closer, feeling the rise of her breasts against my shirt. She’s so lovely. Watching her sleep these past few nights has been my own punishment—seeing her full, beautiful body resting before me yet being unable to show her my true feelings.
Now she’s here before me. She’s as close to mine as I can have her, even after that terrible kiss. No, Leland and Gen would do nothing but condemn each other. I see it now: their two gifts are their own torturous rot. She’s mine. She always has been.
“No,” I murmur. “I don’t think I will. I like seeing you mussed.”
“Stop this!” she cries, shoving at my chest. I don’t budge. Her gown slips lower, caught at the curve of her hips, the loosened corset hanging as nothing but her thin shift separates us.
“Kieran!” she hisses. I don’t know that I’ll ever grow accustomedto hearing that old name on her tongue. Every time she says it, I’m dragged back to a life so far gone I hardly recognize it. “Please,” she whispers, her sapphire eyes lifting to meet mine.
I relent, setting my hands on her shoulders and turning her as she raises her corset and bodice. I make quick work of securing her dress, tying it looser than before. She needs to breathe, after all.
“I may want to ruin you, Princess, but I’ll never harm you,” I say, letting my hands linger on her hips as I press my lips to her temple.
She leans into my touch, a small whimper escaping her lips. Then her words come out in stark contrast to the way her body responds to my proximity. “Stop this pretending, Kieran. Can’t we just move forward as acquaintances? You don’t need to carry on like this.”
I pull back, turning her toward me and pressing her against the willow. “Who said I’m the one pretending? I saw how you reacted when Leland kissed you. You’re the fraud—and you’re doing a piss-poor job of hiding it.”
“How dare you!” she snaps, and I feel my own frustration rising. She’s not even trying to hide how much she hates the false marriage she’s forcing herself into. It was written clear as day on her face—the disdain for him, the way she flinched when he moved closer to kiss her.
I reach up and stroke her cheek. The softness of her skin is a caress from the past.
“You forget, Princess. I know what you look like when you want to be kissed.”
She leans into my touch, and I bring my lips to hers.
“Kieran,” she breathes against my mouth as I press into her, and she responds like a fuse has been lit within her. Gen’s lips move against mine, and she surrenders to our kiss.
She’s soft perfection, just as I knew she would be, and I want her touch to consume me.
