Page 135 of The Mad King and the False Queen

“Mind Guardians can’t project illusions if they can’t see what everyone else is seeing. Luckily, I still have one eye,” Claude explained. Then his expression darkened. “I haven’t told this story to anyone.”

Dagmara reached forward and placed her hand on his.

Claude jerked back, but then he slowly shifted his palm and intertwined his fingers with hers. “For the first time in my life, I want to share my story with someone.”

“And I’m here to listen,” Dagmara replied. She needed to ask him what he knew about King Bogdan. He mentioned being in contact with the king regarding the planned assassins. She had to know the truth.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Claude countered.

Unease crept through Dagmara. She thought she could finally get him to open up. Discover the real him. Now he was shifting the attention back to her. Her mind flashed to the first night in the castle.

“I will use her to Ilusauri’s advantage, find out what she knows, and then I can get rid of her.”

Yanking her hand from his, Dagmara rose from the bed. “I’m tired,” she announced, hoping he would take the cue and leave.

There was a flash of disbelief on Claude’s face, but it was gone in an instant. The king rose from the bed. “What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing,” Dagmara answered.

He took a step toward her. “You haven’t been honest with me about everything. There’s something you aren’t telling me, but I simply can’t figure it out.”

Tilting her head, Dagmara stuck her chin in the air. “You’re the one that still holds secrets about the night your parents died. I don’t think you’ve been completely honest with me.”

“I don’t want to be honest with you!” Claude said, his voice filling the room. “I don’t want to admit the way you make me…” his voice trailed off, fire blazing behind his eyes.

“What?” Dagmara urged.

Claude’s expression darkened. “You have invaded every single thought,” Claude stated. “I can’t see medicine without thinking of your dedication to your kingdom. I can’t walk by flowers without thinking how nothing could compare to your beauty. I can’t even look at any color resembling turquoise without wondering the exact shade of your favorite color. I had forgotten the sound of my own laughter until you reminded me how to laugh again. So now, I can’t even hear laughter without you crossing my mind.” He let out a deep sigh. “Since the moment you arrived, no matter how much it initially bothered me, you have spoken to me as though I am not the Mad King, but just a man. It’s as if this madness isn’t my only defining characteristic. Because of you, I am irrevocably doomed, but somehow…I relish this destruction.”

In one moment, he was a foot away from her, his expression indifferent. The next, his palms gripped both sides of her face and he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was powerful and all-consuming, threatening to make her knees buckle under the sheer intensity. A fire ignited inside her, and she wanted more. Desire coursed through her body, hotter than the first time she kissed him. Now, he was in control, and it was undeniably attractive. He slipped his tongue between her lips, searching her mouth, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her.

Then he yanked back, stumbling away and letting his eyes consume every ounce of her. His chest heaved as he panted, as though the kiss had left him breathless.

Her lips ached, her heart pounding against her chest. She wanted him. She wanted more.

“We agreed this would be purely political,” he said. His voice was low, almost guttural, sending shivers through Dagmara’s entire body. “Sailonne needs me to appoint another governor after Lionel’s death.” He smoothed out the front of his shirt. “Goodnight, Princess.” He turned to leave, but Dagmara wasn’t done with him. She lunged forward, grabbing him by the wrist and stopping him in his tracks. She wasn’t strong enough to pull him back to her. He willingly halted, curious.

She wanted to tell him she didn’t want to keep this purely political. She wanted all of him, the Mad King, the Guardian, both the good and the bad. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that. If he wanted it to be purely political, she could find a way to quell the intense emotions she held for him.

At least that’s what she told herself as she kissed him again.

There was no hesitation on his part. His arm wrapped around her lower back, pulling her body flush against him. Her chest pressed against his, only thin fabric separating them. His hand found the back of her neck, his fingers curling through her hair and tilting her head to kiss her deeper.

Her body burned with need, and she wanted to feel his skin against hers. She gripped the collar of his shirt, tugging at the fabric that blocked her from running her hands down his naked chest.

He obeyed her request.

Taking his hands off her for a brief moment, he gripped the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head, discarding it to the side.

She used the brief pause to catch her breath. She scanned his body, taking in every ounce of him. Every rigid line, every curve of muscle. By the guardians, he was everything she wanted and more. Yet, he was still hiding his face from her.

Before she could speak her mind, his lips were once again on hers. His hands roamed down her backside until he reached her thighs. He gripped her tightly and hoisted her in the air. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss unrelenting. He took a few steps toward the bed before guiding her down on her back. She scooted back on the bed, and he followed, climbing over her until he braced himself with his elbows on either side of her head. He let his body settle between her legs, and every part of him pressed against her. Heat flooded her core, and it took every ounce of her strength to break the kiss long enough to say, “I want to see the real you.”

He paused, his face inches from hers, and his eyes burning with desire. “I…don’t usually show people that.”

Her hands cupped his face. She felt an indent on the left side of his face, but she couldn’t see it. “You can’t scare me away, Claude,” she said.

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Then his face began to transform. The right side remained chiseled and perfect, while the left revealed a giant scar. His eye turned a shade of gray, the scar running directly through it from his eyebrow to his chin. The scar was a shade off from the rest of his skin, the surrounding area rough and marked from a healer’s attempt to fix it.

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