I respect her for that. Admire her, even.
Which makes everything so much worse.
“Why did you request me back?”
The question lands like a blow to the chest.
“You caught me going through your things,” she continues, stepping closer to my desk. “You called me stupid and threatened to send me to the stables. And then you specifically asked for me to be permanently assigned to your private chambers.” Another step closer. “Why?”
I don’t have an answer. Not one I can give her.
“If you think I’m a spy or a thief,” she presses, “why would you want me here, where all your personal belongings are?”
“I never said you were a spy.”
“But you must think it. And also, it’s obvious that you’re angry at me for it.”
I exhale. “Yes, I think you were doing something you shouldn’t have been doing. Your explanation was laughably inadequate.” I hold her gaze, searching for answers I know she won’t give. “You’re hiding something, Claire.”
Her name in my mouth feels dangerously intimate.
“Everyone hides something, Your Majesty, including you.”
“Yes, but right now we’re talking about you. What are you hiding?”
“I promise it’s nothing that can hurt you.”
“Let me be the judge if that’s true.”
We stare at each other across the desk.
“I can’t tell you.” Her shoulders slump and she returns to cleaning.
I watch as she reaches on the tips of her toes for a statue on a top shelf. It starts to wobble.
I’m out of my chair before I realize I’m moving and behind her before I can stop myself.
“Allow me.” I grab onto it before it can fall and shatter on her head.
She freezes. I hear that rapid flutter of heartbeat that tells me she’s aware of me, aware of how close I am. I can smell the rush of blood beneath her skin. Can smell something else too, something sweeter. Arousal.
She wants me as much as I want her.
The knowledge nearly brings me to my knees.
I should step back. Every rational thought screams at me to put distance between us before I do something unforgivable. But the Blood Calling has me in its grip and it won’t let go.
She’s so close. If she leaned back even an inch, she’d be pressed against my chest and my tented shaft would rub against her. I could wrap my arms around her. Pull her against me. Let her feel exactly what she does to me.
“You’re too short for this shelf,” I rasp.
“I was managing fine.”
“You were about to knock this onto your head.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
