She stared at me for a long moment, something fragile flickering across her face. “Thank you.”
I shook my head. “I meant it.”
Her lips parted, and neither of us moved. Then she stepped closer, the hem of her gown whispering across the floor. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?” My voice had gone rough.
“Because people might start to believe you.”
I took another step, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “Let them.”
Her pulse quickened, the sound filling my ears like the sweetest music. My gaze dropped to her lips. She wet them with the tip of her tongue. The gesture nearly undid me.
“Kieran,” she breathed my name like a question.
I raised my hand, letting my fingers hover near her cheek, not touching. Restraint was exquisite torture.
One of us would have to break first.
I leaned forward.
“Tell me to stop,” I said softly, giving her the power, even as every bit of me begged her not to use it.
I cradled her face between my palms, tilting her head up with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger coursing through me. I was a king, trained in patience and restraint since birth, but all my careful control frayed now that she was warm and willing in my hands.
“You deserve better than a stolen moment in the dark,” I said, even as I lowered my head, our lips a breath apart. “You deserve poetry and daylight and everything I never thought I’d want to give anyone.”
Her hands came up to grip my wrists. “I just want you.”
The truth in her voice unraveled me completely.
Her golden eyes darkened, and for one moment, I thought she might?—
A disgruntled meow came from the doorway as Quandary padded in, looking thoroughly put out at being left behind in the ballroom. He jumped onto the dresser, knocking over a crystal vase that clattered when it hit the wooden surface.
“It seems everyone wants your attention tonight,” I said, easing away.
Cyrene sighed. “He’s probably hungry. Judging vampires all evening works up an appetite.” She flicked her hand toward him. “Go outside and hunt a meal.”
He huffed but leaped off the bureau and soared through the open window.
I smiled, doing my best to recapture the mood.
The air chilled.
Cyrene’s eyes widened, and she frowned to her right. “Not now, Cordelia. Please, not now.”
“She’s here?” I gazed around but saw nothing. “What does she want?”
“To gossip about the evening.” Her frown deepened. “Can we talk in the morning?”
Air burst across the room, followed by silence.
Cyrene nibbled on her lower lip. “I think she’s mad at me.”
“Does that upset you?”
Her sigh bled out, and the sadness in her eyes gutted me. “I don’t want to offend her. Other than Quandary, she’s my only friend in this place.”
