Page 9

Every breath shudders through me. The world tilts sideways, and I plant my palm on the wall behind me to stay upright.

My lips are swollen and sensitive, and my heartbeat pulses in time with the throbbing between my legs.

I grit my teeth.

No. I’m not thinking about that. Not thinking about the wetness, the ache, or the way my body hums in the absence of his touch, desperate for it to return.

An overwhelming shame courses through me. I craved him carnally. A man whose name I don’t even know. My captor. Some stranger who dragged me into this doorway and threatened me with the authorities.

Then he kissed me like he had every right to.

The worst part? I let him. Participated, even. Rubbed myself on his thigh like an animal in heat. Held him. Opened my mouth and allowed his tongue entry. Responded by using my own tongue on him.

Stop. Stop pondering it.

He probably makes out with women in dark doorways every night.

His gaze travels over me, lingering on my mouth, my heaving chest, the way I flatten myself against the wall. He watches me with that same assessing look from the room above the gambling den.

Everything about him suggests he’s calm and controlled.

I shudder, because I am not. I’m still trying to remember how to breathe after my body went rogue on me.

His smirk grows. “Yeah, you can be convincing.”

Convincing? At being a whore?

Jackass.

I want to punch the smug bastard, or maybe unleash my shadow spinners on him again.

Before I can decide, he grabs my wrists in one large hand and digs into his side pouch with his other.

My heart rate jumps again, hammering as rapidly as it did before the Graywatch intruded. “What are you⁠—”

I stare in confusion as he loops a length of soft leather around my wrists and pulls it snug. He finishes with a complicated knot, expertly binding me.

Shock freezes me in place. For the love of the gods, I hope this has nothing to do with pretending to be a whore. “What are you doing?”

He leans close, his mouth near my ear, his breath on my skin eliciting a shiver. “I’m ensuring your cooperation.”

I twist my wrists, testing the restraints and finding no give. He knows what he’s doing.

This isn’t the first time he’s tied someone up.

That revelation should terrify me. Instead, even more confusion churns my gut.

The man spins me around to face him, his expression neutral, like he didn’t just kiss me senseless thirty seconds ago. “If you scream, they’ll come back. I’ll be able to get away. You? You won’t be going anywhere once I tell them I found you ransacking a bloodstained room.”

Shit.

He’s wrong. But he’s also right. If I screamed, they’d come running and would haul us in for breaking curfew. But once I revealed my true identity, they’d set me free. Well, they’d send me to my father.

Truthfully, that’s the last thing I want.

I can’t admit to my father I failed. Again. That I couldn’t complete the one mission he assigned me or do anything right despite Veradin’s faith in me and all my training. That I have no magic and am unworthy of my birthright as his daughter, which will lead to him stripping me of my title and status.

I’d have to see the disappointment in his eyes. And Veradin’s eyes. The confirmation of what everyone already believes.