His lips brush my forehead next—gentle, deliberate.
“Three.”
The anticipation is so thick, I could cut it with a knife. I want to get this misery over with—yet part of me aches to know what those lips would feel like on mine. What he would taste like.
I can’t breathe. Heaven help me, this man is my captor.
I should hate him. But I remember the vision. And what he said—that he’s imprisoned here, just like me.
And kissing him… kissing him means nothing more than getting one step closer to surviving this nightmare.
His hand cups my jaw, steady and warm. I fight to control my breathing. He leans in, and I mirror him, just barely, hating the way my body betrays me.
Then—
Pain explodes in my shoulder.
“OW!” I yelp, my head snapping forward straight into the king’s nose with a loud crunch.
Keiren curses, hands flying to his face.
I spin just in time to see a navy blue book sink its rows of sharp teeth into my shoulder again.
Blood stains my sleeve. Itbitme.
“What the hell?!” I yelp, trying to tear it away.
Keiren is already there, pulling it off, supporting me. “You’re bleeding!”
I almost laugh—because so is he. Blood gushes from his nose, which I clearly broke. “Yeah, no sh…”
The world tips sideways, and the scent of leather and blood fills my nose.
Darkness.
I blink awake. A damp cloth dabs at my forehead. Marb hovers over me, her tiny face pinched with concern.Flames and Fatehums faintly on the nightstand, warm and alive, but I’m back in my room.
Marb hands me a vial. “Drink.”
I obey, downing the green liquid. It tastes like rotting moss. I gag but swallow anyway.
“You were bitten by a venomous book,” Marb says simply, putting the empty vial back on the table.
“Venom?” I rasp.
She nods.
“Then the books really do bite,” I mutter.
“They do,” comes a familiar voice.
I look up. Keiren is sitting in the corner, lounging like he’s been there for a while. He rises and crosses to me, rolling up his sleeve and pointing to a pale scar. “This one was from a book on cursed soil.”
I blink up at him. “You really are committed to this whole gardening thing.”
“Even kings need hobbies,” he says, offering a slight smile.
I can’t help but stare. “Why are you here?”
