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He had given up. And I needed to show him that he still had fight left in him.

I took an unsteady breath and slowly climbed to my feet.

“Go get some rest, Cerise,” Alaric said, turning away.

He thought I was leaving. Of course he did. I’d already shut him out once, and he was expecting me to do it again.

Instead, I moved directly in front of him, blocking his view of the window. He frowned up at me, expression wary. With my eyes fixed on him, I eased the sleeves of my dress down, exposing my shoulders.

His nostrils flared. “What are you doing?”

My chest quivered with anxiety, and the knots tightened in my stomach, but I forced myself to keep going. My fingers slowly tugged at the strings on my bodice. “I am at your command, Your Majesty.” I was grateful my voice didn’t tremble.

Alaric’s brows lowered. “Cerise…”

“If you don’t issue a direct order, Your Majesty, then I’ll just keep undressing.” With the strings loose, my dress sagged around my chest. My skin flushed, and my breath shuddered in my throat.

“You don’t have to do this,” Alaric said, his tone irritated.

“I know. I’m doing it because I want to.”

His eyes fixed on me, burning with a spark of desire and… hope?

“I can keep removing my clothes,” I said, wriggling out of my loose dress until it pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my shift. “Or, if you wish, I can do something else for you. But until Noontide, I am yours and only yours, Alaric. Do what you want with me.”

Alaric’s pupils flared, and his throat bobbed. His eyes roved over me with excruciating slowness, traveling from my shoulders to my breasts and waist, then down to my thighs. I was painfully aware of the thin fabric of my shift, which clung to my body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Alaric had seen all of me on the beach, but I had been in a wild frenzy and I hadn’t cared. But right now? My heart was racing, and my palms felt sweaty. Fear and nausea swirled inside me.

I wanted him. I wanted him so desperately by bones ached. But I was not as confident as I pretended to be. My ideal night with him would have involved a slow progression, the two of us gradually unraveling one another with careful, unhurried ministrations. As the powerful, self-assured soldier, he likely would have taken the lead.

Which was my preference. I certainly wasn’t the kind of person bold enough to strip naked in front of a gorgeous man without worry or anxiety.

But right now, he needed me to take charge. I focused on the heated look he gave me. What I was doing was working—he seemed more alert. More alive.

If this was what it took to help him through this, then I didn’t care how ridiculous I felt.

“I need you to tell me you’re being earnest,” Alaric said, his voice low and husky. “Because after what you said yesterday⁠—”

“I wish I could take it back,” I whispered. “I wish I could erase every hateful thing I said to you. Because I love you. Me. My entire being. I love you because I choose to. Because I want to. I don’t care what the otherworldly powers out there have determined for us. I choose a life with you, Alaric. And I’m offering myself to you fully. If you’ll have me.”

Urgency and desire pulsed through me in time with the rapid beating of my heart. If he was as doomed as he claimed, then we only had now. We only had tonight.

And I wanted to make it count.

Alaric’s lips parted, and he let out a shaky exhale. His eyes seemed to burn bright in the darkness, searing straight through me. He slowly climbed to his feet, his gaze still fixed on me. My stomach fluttered as he drew closer, the warmth of his body surrounding me.

I let my eyes rove over the firm muscles of his abdomen and the way his bicep bulged as he lifted a hand to my face. His thumb traced the length of my jaw, then brushed along my neck. My skin burned from the heat of his touch, and my breath hitched. I started pulling at the sleeves of my shift, prepared to keep undressing for him, but his hand covered mine.

“No,” he murmured. “That’s not what I need from you.”

I wet my lips, and his eyes darted to my mouth. A wild, hungry look flared in his gaze.

“Then, what do you need?” I breathed.

His breaths were shallow and strained, but the look of desire on his face was undeniable. His hand shifted to my chin, and he dragged the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, prying my mouth open. A ragged gasp escaped me.

“I need this tongue of yours,” he growled, inserting a finger into my mouth and stroking my tongue. “On your knees, witchling.”

Thirty-Eight