His seductive grin is filled with wicked delight. “And now I’m going to be a bandit.”
I can’t help but laugh and tighten my arms around him. “What do bandits do?”
“Bandits,” he says, kissing his way up my neck to my ear and gently biting the lobe, “ravish.”
Thereis no aphrodisiac more powerful than desire.
—Love Languages of the Courtesans’ Guild,Sorchonne Parnour
CHAPTER THIRTY
And he does.
He devours me, consumes me, possesses me, mind and body and soul. I forget my plan to stay away from him, forget our mission, forget my name. He’s everything and everywhere, his hands and his mouth and even his teeth on my skin. Before we reach the bed, he’s stripping my clothes from my body, pulling my shirt away and tossing it behind him, where it lands on the floor on top of his own that somehow disappeared without my noticing.
I’ve seen him without a shirt on the journey. Of course I have. We’ve all been in very close company, and the men don’t wear shirts when they wash.
But.
I always tried not to stare at him. Not even look at him, really, because the carved muscles of his chest and abdomen make me want to reach out and trace the indentions between those muscles with my fingers.
Or my tongue.
But now I can. I reach out, still tentative. Instead of smoothing my fingers into those enticing divots, though, I use one finger to trace the scar that nearly killed him.
“I’m so glad you survived this.”
“I survived every danger so I could be alive for this one moment. So I could be exactly here, exactly now, to finally see you naked in mybed,” he says, his voice husky. “You’re as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.”
He stares at my body in the moonlight shimmering in through the window with something approaching awe. Watching him look at me, I feel shy and bold. Feverishly hot and icy cold. My skin is alive with sensation; my body alive with need.
“You’re the beautiful one, Prince Purple Eyes,” I tease him, then laugh delightedly when his cheeks redden. “How can that embarrass you? People must have been telling you how pretty you are since the day you were born.”
My voice is light, but I’m serious. There’s no way this gorgeous man grew up as the beloved crown prince of Valourian and then spent the past decade in the palace at Pallanhold without hearing an endless litany of compliments from adoring courtiers.
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “It meant less than hearing my swordsmanship was improving.”
Suddenly, his eyes narrow, and he smacks himself in the forehead. “I’m a fool. I can’t—we can’t—there could be a child—”
“No.” I look away. “No. The Sisters make all the female servants take Queen Jersia’s lace in a tisane on a regular schedule. They said … they said we couldn’t be trusted not to ‘get ourselves in trouble.’”
He catches my hand. “Not here, Soli. Let’s not allow them into this room with us.”
I raise my chin. “You’re right. Forget them. To the point, though, there’s Queen Jersia’s lace in my fake poisoner’s kit, and I’ve continued to take it more out of habit than anything else, so we’re safe. No babies.”
I’m nowhere near the kind of existence where I can think about babies, even though the idea of someday, far in the future, holding a purple-eyed infant briefly dances around the edges of my mind.
“Thank you,” he says. “I would never want to do anything to harm you, and now—”
“Now, you should kiss me again.”
“Yes, my lady.” He kisses me and pulls me against him, the amulet glowing softly, illuminating the space between us. I instinctually reachup to touch the locket that holds it.
And then I gasp and push him away.
“What is it?” Kaelen, always the protector, scans the room for danger, but his gaze almost immediately returns to me. “Is it the amulet?”
“Yes.” I swallow, hard. “I’m afraid. Not for me, but for you. What if the amulet—if Artemisen—decides you’re not meant to be so close to it?”
