Page 131 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

It wasn’t like her at all.

He grabbed her hand and stopped her walking. She turned to face him. “Did something happen whilst I wasn’t there? Is there something I should know? You have been a little distant.”

She gazed up at him, her beautiful eyes that were, tonight, a grey-blue, a mist of pure magic, set on his face. “I promise, there is nothing wrong.”

“Okay, good.” He relaxed a little. A floating tray of polished silver came by and she swiped a glass of what looked like brandy on ice and a glass of fizzy wine from it. Before he could thank her for getting him a drink, she necked it, throwing back every drop. She then moved on to the wine, taking large sips.

Something had happened, and he was going to work it out.

“Is it hot in here?” she asked. “Like it’s warmer than normal?” She fanned herself. “Isn’t it?”

Stunned at the alcohol she had just put away, he said, “You have been friends with Breighly Baxgroll for five minutes and you are already firing alcohol down your throat at an impressive, worrying rate.”

“Don’t blame her,” she said, placing the glasses into a passing tray. “I can hold my own with liquor.”

“Ah, that’s right. You still owe me an expensive bottle of rum.”

That night, on the rooftop of the tower, she had saved him. She had drunk his favourite bottle of rum that cost more than he made in two months, but she had saved him that night in a way she would never understand.

From that moment, he’d known that Emara was going to be more to him than just some stranger he had saved from the Dark Army. She was going to be more to him than just some girl who he wanted to fuck. She was going to be more than the hunt, more than his oath, more than just an alliance. She had seen right through to his soul that night.

He swallowed as he watched her take in the room. The long column of her neck exposed the flesh she liked to be kissed. The curves of her breasts in the gown, full and shapely, led down to her small waist, and then her hips expanded out beautifully.

Maybe it was warm here. He pulled at the neck of his tunic. Very fucking warm.

“It is a little warm,” he admitted. “Shall we go outside to the veranda?”

“Actually,” she said, her eyelashes fluttering a little. “I was hoping we could go somewhere private.”

Torin’s eyes flicked to her throat as it bobbed and then back to her face. The alcohol seemed to be working quickly in her bloodstream. Was that flushing in her cheeks?

“You want to go somewhere more private than the veranda?” His eyes narrowed.

“It’s freezing outside,” she said so fast that her lips barely moved.

“It is only wildlings like us that would go out there in such temperatures, exploring,” he purred, testing to see how she would react. “You said it yourself, it’s warm in here. The veranda would cure that.”

She didn’t laugh. “I don’t really want to stay around here and have meaningless conversations with people I don’t even know. I’ve done that all week. Since it is the winter solstice, I need a break from all of that.” Her voice trembled a little, causing him to worry. “I have something for you.” She looked up at him through the most perfectly fanned lashes he had ever seen.

His heart picked up its pace.

“You got me something?” he said slowly, feeling like the ring in his pocket was now a heavy boulder.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But you must come with me now whilst I have the chance to show it to you.” She grabbed on his wrist and began pulling him along.

“Angel…” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into him so closely that their bodies were pressed together. It didn’t matter to him that he was being affectionate in front of so many people. He didn’t care if anyone was watching. They could look. “As much as I like the sound of going somewhere private with you for this very intriguing little gift”—She stilled in his arms—“I need to know that you are all right.” He heard the worry in his own voice this time. There was no time for him to mask that. “You are acting strange.”

She had been for a few days.

Emara relaxed in his embrace, which took him by surprise, and he ran a thumb across her spine as she said, “You asked me to trust you. I closed my eyes and trusted you.” She looked over at his face. “And now I need to ask you to do the same thing.” Her voice was a little husky, but he found that irrefutably attractive. Anything she did, he found attractive. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“That depends.” He smiled, a smile that he knew made her heart rate increase. He had felt it. “Do you have your favourite new weapon strapped to that gorgeous thigh under your dress?” He moved a strand of her silken hair from her face to stop him reaching down to feel it under her gown. Now that would be inappropriate. “Because if you do, maybe I should be worried.”

“Maybe if you shut up long enough and just followed me”—She screwed up her face, and her nose wrinkled.—“You would find out.”

Why did his cock always harden when she was angry?

She turned, tugging him with her out of the grand ballroom, leaving one question on his mind.

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