“Yes,” I blurt out. Then, more calmly, “Yes.”
I can’t help the shiver that races through me. I’m not sure if it’s fear of the mercenaries or anticipation of how and where Kaelenmight touch me.
The dramatic-looking woman on the lead horse is flanked by three men and one woman, all dressed in leathers. They’re spread out in a reverse V formation, protecting a shiny black-and-gold carriage and the four black horses pulling it down the center of the road. The driver wears matching livery but looks uncomfortable in it, like he’d prefer to wear leathers, too.
“The driver,” I murmur. “He’s one of them.”
“I see it. Good catch. Body language is usually more honest than words. All right. I’m going back into my rich parasite act, so try not to take anything I do or say personally.”
Before I can respond or even think about what that might mean, he wraps his arm around my waist, sliding one hand beneath my cloak as if he has a right to touch me. Which, I guess, he does, because I gave him permission. Then he laughs like I’ve said something funny, raises his other hand to push my braid aside, and drops a long, languid kiss on my neck, which instantly sets my nerve endings on fire in a blaze that rivals the actual fire I expected to consume me when I touched the amulet.
I gasp and catch myself automatically arching back into him. He utters a quiet groan that shocks me out of my reaction to his touch.
Artemisen help me, I think before I remember exactly what we’re up to on this journey.
“I need some cold water,” I mutter, startling a laugh out of Kaelen.
“You’re not the only one,” he says ruefully, shifting position in the saddle.
“By the goddesses,Imight even need some cold water,” Chitai says, and I jump.
I look over to see her grinning, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice her ride up next to us. I wince at how much danger I could have been in if she’d been an enemy. Imustget my reaction to Kaelen under control before it gets me—or anyone else—killed.
Andras canters up on our other side, his face expressionless as he studies the oncoming party. “Follow my lead, Kaelen. Your mercenaries would talk to theirs, not you. You’re the client. The sergeant remains with the wagon.”
“Hello, the road,” the woman calls out, taking stock of us as closely as I did her party.
“Hello yourself,” Chitai says, putting an extra layer of flirtation in her response. “Nice jewels.”
“I’m Drysk of Khyrrus, leader of this merry band of misfits,” the woman responds. She smiles briefly at Chitai, but then turns her sultry stare on Kaelen, looking straight through me like I don’t exist. “Where are you headed?”
“Off to Khyrrus ourselves,” Andras answers. “How goes the road?”
A short, cadaverously thin man wearing a bandolier filled with tiny vials instead of blades rides up beside Drysk and aims an icy, pale gray stare at the Sylvan. “Since when does a fucking Sylvan ride to the coin? You don’t look much like mercenaries to me.”
Andras leans forward in his saddle. “That’s ‘since when does a fucking Sylvanlordride to the coin’ to you, poisoner.”
Poisoner. Of course. The vials. I’m wearing them, too. Why does he suspect we’re not really mercenaries, though? Does it matter?
Kaelen moves the hand on my waist to cup my chin, turning my face up to his. His glorious purple eyes sparkle down at me in a look filled with hunger, like I’m exactly what he needs to keep breathing. “Play along,” he whispers.
And then he kisses me.
Just a gentle press of lips at first. An act. Even I know that. But I’m so caught off guard that I react with no thought of pretense or disguise—or our audience.
Because the touch of his mouth to mine flares heat through me like lightning over the Sea of Ice in the heart of autumn tempest season. The emotions that have been warring in my body—fear and wonder, hope and despair, self-consciousness and bravery—crystallize into knife-sharp desire. A tiny sound escapes me, and I melt against him, reaching up to cup the back of his neck. He groans and takes my mouth like he wants to strip me bare right here, right now, and damn the consequences.
I’m not sure I want to stop him.
My fingers glide through the silk of his thick, lustrous hair, and Iclose my eyes and revel in the sensations sizzling through me from my lips to every single part of my body.
A loud whistle suddenly cuts through the haze in my mind, and I jerk back from the kiss, staring up at the prince in utter horror and disbelief. To my profound shock, his expression is the exact opposite of horror.
Instead, his heavy-lidded gaze is so hot I feel my hips twitch in response. His powerful thighs immediately tighten around me, and I feel the hard evidence of his arousal before he quickly but subtly moves away. At least part of his reaction to me is no act.
Kaelen rests his cheek on the top of my head for an instant, slowly exhaling, and then he raises his head and looks at Drysk.
“You can’t blame me for tasting such a delectable morsel,” he drawls, using that fake courtier’s voice I despise. “Too bad your poisoner isn’t as … appealing as mine.”
