Page 65 of Of Monsters Of Kings

His words were chilled and displayed no sign of my fluster. “I will see all that you offer, Perantiqua.”

I released the wool coat and sighed when it slid off my shoulders to pool around my hips. I leaned forward to tug the rest of the coat away and tossed it down the stairs. Silly thing.

I hugged my body afterward through the gossamer robe and everything beneath that it didn’t hide.

The air in the landing felt dense. My throat didn’t want to breathe it. My inhales were small and rapid.

“Wonder, you have me tight in your claws,” the king whispered. “She is not of this world.”

He must see the bodysuit beneath the gossamer robes made of fine mesh. The sleeves were full length, and strategic sewing of black and gold flowers and vines covered some of my breasts and between my legs, but naught else. Nothing but mesh covered my back and behind, but I’d remain facing the king, so that was of no consequence.

My voice trembled. “I did not intentionally dress this way, sir, I would have you know. My suitcase, Valetise, is to blame. I feel very uncomfortable that you would assume it was my choice given that you didn’t mind what I dressed in for this night.”

The king’s voice was strained. “I will send Valetise a thank-you note, mistress. Now, be silent.”

Not the silence.

I fell mute, and if I’d thought being rid of my wool coat was the answer to how flustered I’d felt, then I’d been sorely mistaken. My skin brushed against gossamer and mesh with every exhale. My chest rose and fell more dramatically with each passing minute. I turned my head aside and inhaled through my nose as my hair slithered over my shoulder.

Why was I this way? I felt faint.

My skin was scorching. My mind didn’t squeeze or shimmer but felt trapped in a franticness. “See.” I shifted position for the umpteenth time. “I can’t stand this any longer.”

“I know,” he replied.

I swallowed a gasp. “What are you doing to me? Are you using your power?”

“I use no power on you, and I do nothing that you are not also part of, mistress. The feeling between us is awakening your seductress, and she is breathtaking. I have lived and lived and, so it seems, not lived at all.”

“I am no seductress,” I said with difficulty. “I have no experience in the matter.”

His balloon of power pressed harder.

“I beg to differ. Everything you do seduces. The turn of your face. Your small breaths. The press of your thighs. This breathless, writhing response is for me, lady. You have made me feel powerful beyond measure, and that is what seduction achieves. You are most assuredly a seductress this night.”

All the fluster I was ashamed to show—the very reason I’d shed my wool coat—was the thing drawing him in. “I’m not sure I quite understand how these make you feel powerful.”

“Be silent, mistress.”

I groaned. “I do not care for silence. It’s harder than talking.”

“You have no idea of hardness.” A hint of groan entered his voice.

I fell into silence with him, and an anger built in me as my flustered stress sought any outlet and came up empty-handed. I rose on my knees and sat on my haunches next. I wrapped the gossamer robe tight, then stood, pressing my thighs together.

I paced along the wall furthest from his throne, sighing and growling slightly in turn.

And he did not speak.

I stopped in the middle again, tight fists by my side. “Why don’t you speak?”

He must hear the anger in my tone.

King See didn’t reply, and why not when I could hear his uneven breath and the way he shifted on the throne? He must know a way to end this torture. Why did he keep up this silence?

I’d had enough.

I pulled off the gossamer robe and threw it after the wool coat. The itch of its whisperings over my skin remained, and I swept my hands over my stomach and thighs, then up again in a desperate bid to be rid of it.

---