“It’s Burneside Keep,” I say without hesitation. “Morweena wages this war from Burneside Keep.”
“How the hell would you know that, kitty cat?” Blaise questions me with raised eyebrows, disbelief painted on his features.
“That’s where Vladymyr said he wanted to take me, to please his mistress by bringing her the Vampire King’s whore.”
Killian openly gapes at me in shock, while Blaise wheezes out a strangled laugh, locking his hands behind his head.
“No fucking way! We’ve been busting our balls for years to no avail for this information, and of course, the soon to be warrior princess stumbles upon it in her very first encounter with an onpyr!” His disbelieving laugh gains traction, eyes filled with glee. “I could fucking tongue kiss you right now…”
A menacing growl emanates from Killian’s throat, shadows churning possessively around his figure.
“…But, I cherish my existence way too much to make such a hasty mistake. I will leave the steamy tongue kissing for the two of you.”
I half-smile, amused by his antics. Gods, one can never truly take Blaise seriously, can he? It’s even more impressive that he is the best spy in the kingdom, when his attitude is boisterous and buffooning almost all the Godsdamn time. I always envisioned a spy as a taciturn creature, shrouded in silence and secrets, slinking through the shadows to gather intel and enact nefarious plans. Leave it to Blaise to obliterate such preconceived ideas with his frivolous, devil-may-care attitude.
“Prepare a small scouting expedition with our best spies, Blaise. No engaging, no risk of discovery,” the King orders.
“I will lead the expedition myself,” Blaise counters.
“No. I need you here, especially if it goes sideways. Send Lukha, Mayri, Amaiah, and Desmond. You stay here and train Aimee.”
Blaise bows his head in acceptance, then takes his leave. I watch his retreating form disappear in the hallway; the door thudding closed behind him.
I drag my gaze back to a staring Killian, my skin tingling in uneasiness for what I’m about to say.
“There’s one other thing…” I force the words to come out, one at a time. I will my heartbeats to slow down into a steady rhythm, although I can hear each drum-like beat in my ears.
“You’re finally ready to let me know where your reclusive sister is hiding,” Killian offers softly, his gaze a longing caress—his shadows humming a faint whisper of greedy yearning, of unspoken promises and untethered passion.
I take one last steadying breath to calm my fraying nerves, wishing the next few minutes won’t scatter the fragile truce we’ve accomplished here—knowing it shouldn’t matter anyway, because he is not meant to be mine.
“About that…”
CHAPTER 17
Killian
Ishouldbeembarrassedbyhow I’m obviously gawking at Aimee’s plump, kissable lips, not seeming to understand a word from what has been coming out of her mouth in the last few minutes.
I’m not.
Maybe it has something to do with how gaily I can envision that lustrous mouth wrapped around my own, how brightly the memory of our first and only kiss burns vicariously through my consuming thoughts—a filthy promise, yet a frustrating reminder. I did not have enough of her.
The way she looped those immorally long legs around my waist.
Strong.
Possessive.
Claiming.
The hauntingly staccato rhythm of her uneven breaths fanned against my rugged cheekbones.
The red-hot, smoldering fervor in her gleaming gaze as she reached, knuckles-deep, into my shriveled soul and pulled to the surface every goddamn smoky coil of emotion lingering there.
Blinding ardor.
Overpowering lust.
