Page 65 of King of Storms and Feathers

I thought of her soft fingers moving through the shadows of my bedchamber, her whispered words that warded off my nightmares. I needed her all right. More than I could bear to admit.

The crowd buffeted her sideways. My arm jerked tighter around her waist as I shuffled backward until I hit the wall, moving her out of the fray.

“What if instead of these crowds of courtiers you mention, you’re the only one I want to command?” I rocked my hardness into her body to illicit a reaction. Any number of responses would do fine—a quick writhe of her hips, a lusty moan, tears of frustration.

“Deriving pleasure from someone else’s fear is a sickness,” she said, disgust twisting her features. “You don’t need a slave. You need help.”

“You? Afraid of me?” I laughed. “You fear me in roughly the same way the moon cowers from the sun, which is to say not at all.”

“That’s different. The sun doesn’t threaten the moon, does it?”

Frustration made me tighten my grip on her. Why couldn’t she see me as I wanted her to? Why did she misinterpret… everything? “But think, Leaf. You constantly defy me, and still I haven’t hurt you. Does that mean nothing? I would never take more than you’re willing to give.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. But look at us—king and slave. We are not equal,” she snapped. “Anything I give you is only the price I pay for comfort. Think about that, Arrow. Then decide what kind of man you are.”

A heavy weight settled on my chest, winding sinuously like a serpent bearing the regrettable name of Guilt. I tore its phantom head off, tossed it to the ground, and loosened my grip around Leaf’s neck ever so slightly.

Night noises of Bonerust floated through the air—snatches of drinking songs, laughter, an argument nearby—and I let my thumb stroke softly over her throat. A musky scent rose from her skin as her breath grew ragged from so little stimulation.

My pulse raced, heart pounding in my chest.

She was a liar. My nearness affected her. The evidence permeated the air.

“Leaf…” I groaned as pleasure spiked through my blood, and I snaked my hand lower, seeking her warm, wet center.

Sharp pain struck as she slapped my face so hard my skull thudded against the wall. Her hands formed fists at her sides as she drew a shuddering breath, realizing what she had done.

Attacking a king of the realms was an act of treason. On top of her escape attempt today, rules and common sense demanded I kill her without delay.

I could have—no should have—finished her off right there, freeing myself from this strange obsession. But instead, I pressed my palm against my cheek, its heat calming my rage.

Turning swiftly, I shoved her against the wall, my hand around her throat again. Like a demon caught in a trap, she spat a curse as her spine crunched against the stone.

“Listen to me.” I pressed closer, caging her between my forearms braced on the wall. “Since you were nearly raped—”

“Oh, let me guess,” she interrupted. “You think you’re the right man to finish the job.”

I sighed through my nose. “And this is how she thanks me for saving her life!”

“She? Is there another girl you’re harassing around here?”

I let out a low laugh as she broke eye contact and stared at the ground between us. I watched the pulse beat at her throat. She smelled so delicious, so tempting, and I longed to drink her down in one long, balls-tightening, mind-blowing draft. But I reminded myself that self-restraint was my specialty. Or at least it had been until the day I stared into fury-filled green eyes through the bars of a gilt market cage.

At the side of my vision, fae stirred with interest, and I was glad of the hood covering my head, hopefully concealing my identity. Anyone who recognized me likely knew the consequences of drawing attention to my presence, so kept their mouths shut and gazes fixed elsewhere.

“Let me begin again,” I said. “You’ve had a bad day. But every misfortune was of your own making, and it seems you don’t learn from your mistakes. When we return, know this: you will feel the sting of my anger in equal measure to the force of your slap.”

Her eyes widened, then she shook her head with resignation and collapsed like an exhausted stray kitten, soft and pliant in my arms as I picked her up and returned quickly to my horse.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” I said.

She obeyed, and power licked over me where her cool fingers touched my skin.

To secure her in the saddle, I took a rope from Yanar’s saddlebag and bound her waist to mine with care. On the journey back to Coridon, I would allow her the sleep she needed.

But when we reached my chambers, well, that would be another matter entirely.

Chapter 17

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