He quickly wrapped the ring in the cloth, stuffing it back in his pocket. “Nothing.”
More secrets. He swore to himself he would give it back to her.
Just not tonight. Not yet.
Mariah padded up beside him, holding his stare in the mirror. She scrutinized him for a long moment, as if she could see all his lies, but she only shrugged and turned away.
Andrian tried his best to hide his whooshing sigh of relief and the way he almost sagged into the counter.
The tap to the bath started. Any relief he felt vanished, his spine rigid.
In the mirror’s reflection, Mariah adjusted the taps, testing the water pouring into the sparkling porcelain. Steam rose as she straightened, keeping her back to him and peeling her dark sweater from her body. She discarded the material on the ground then slipped out of her leggings.
Andrian’s pulse hammered in his throat, his grip on the counter tightening at the sweeping expanse of smooth skin, the toned muscle, those seven long scars on her back.
She was taunting him.Teasinghim. She’d already bathed that day, after they’d trained. She stepped over the edge of the tub, settling into the water. She finally met his gaze in the mirror, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips before she dunked her head below the surface.
His body was onfire. Every instinct, every bit of his focus had narrowed on her, the rest of the world fading away. Mariah reemerged, running her hands over her face and down the length of her hair, the top of those fucking tits visible above the surface. She gathered soap in her hands, working it in the lengths of her hair. Every movement sent a dagger to his cock.
Why couldn’t he have this? Why couldn’t he haveher? Somewhere, in the sane part of his mind, he knew why: it would just offer one more path for Kol to reach her. Whatever influence he still had over Andrian was obviously more easily exploited when he was exposed and vulnerable. Not to mention all Andrian’s lingering worries about the ease of his escape.
He’d never been more vulnerable than he was at this moment. All walls and barriers gone, reduced to nothing more than instinct and hunger.
The weaker part of his mind, the louder part, argued back. Was there really a difference? Between sharing her bed—between kissing her and fucking her?
Gods, he wanted her. Heneededher. As much as he needed the air he breathed. His shadows writhed beneath his skin in agreement.
He turned slowly, pulling his gaze from the reflection to reality. He crossed his arms, resting his hip against the counter, feigning nonchalance.
Mariah finished her bath, her smile widening. She pulled the stopper from the tub and let the water drain. She stood, water dripping and gleaming on all that skin, tugging his attention to places he was tired of denying himself. His cocked ached, and by the way her nipples were peaked and that gods-damned flush crept up her neck, she fuckingknew.
Mariah pulled a towel from a nearby rack, stepping out of the bath and wrapping it around herself.
Andrian pounced.
He reached her in two long strides, hands gripping soft, damning flesh. He backed her into the opposite wall, steam still swirling around them. Her smirk finally fell away with a soft gasp, and her hands and the towel caught between them when his mouth found hers.
Gods, he devoured her. Her soft, clean scent wrapped around him, soaked into him, wove itself into his very essence. The soap she’d used was scented with mountain lavender, but the eucalyptus and cedarwood and jasmine was still there, and he swallowed it down with greedy gulps. His fingers dug into the base of her damp skull, tipping her further up to him, and she released another sound somewhere between a gasp and a groan.
“Please,” he murmured into her lips. He pressed against her, knowing she could feel his aching cock between them. “I need you.Please.”
She stilled. So did he, chest heaving. Her fingers slowly unfurled, palms flat on his chest. His heart raced under her touch, galloping in his ribs. Shadows spilled down his arms andbrushed softly against her skin. A thrill raced through him at the way her skin pebbled beneath their touch.
He was about to lean back in, to finally,finallylose himself in her, when her palms on his chest went firm.
Andrian froze, reeling back a little. He let her push him away, hands and shadows slipping from her skin, though it killed him a little to do so. She rewrapped her towel, that fucking smirk back on her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
No, the sadness and hurt and disappointment that looked back at him through the forest green was enough to dump cold water through his veins.
“Not until you talk to me.” She turned away, sauntering back into the main chamber of their apartments.
When she had disappeared into the next room, Andrian sagged against the wall, hanging his head.
He would truly never learn, would he? He would always be so fuckingweak.
Chapter 42
Ciana fidgeted with the sleeves of her fine gown, staring at the king’s study door.
