Page 133 of An Empress of Fire & Steel

A rough laugh passed his lips. “I haven’t forgotten.” He leaned into her ear and her stupid heart stammered for a moment, reminding her it was there at all. “I still have the scrapes on my back to remind me of it.” He pulled back instantly as if expecting her to lash out at him.

Instead, she handed him her empty glass and kicked into step.

“Wait!” he called from behind her.

She spun, ready to give him a series of sharp and explicit curses. But she realised he was holding out a small flower.

“What is that?” she asked him.

There it was again. That stammer in her Gods-damn heart!

“It’s mistletoe.” He grinned sheepishly. “I want to give it to you as a gesture of goodwill.” His face turned a little more serious and she didn’t like it, not one bit. She swallowed. “The flower dates to before humans even walked the earth. It can still blossom even in the coldest winter.” He stepped towards her, twirling it between two inked fingers. “In the most frozen of all places, it grows.” He took her hand and put the flower in her palm. Stunned by the gesture, she let him. “It is a symbol of hope, and the Gods admired its vivacity. And it is tradition that when given the flower, you must kiss the person who you received it from.” His grin widened on his face.

The stone that was her heart almost shattered.

That smug bastard!

She laughed, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. “Well, the night is still young, I suppose.” She raised her eyebrows. “I will see if I receive any more gifts, and then I will kiss the person who gave me my favourite one, Arkus.”

“Artem.” He corrected. He looked over his lashes at her, causing a tingling sensation to move in her lower region. “Artem. Artem of Clan Stryker.”

Finally, she looked down at the crest pinned to his chest. Before it could overwhelm her and cloud her better judgement, she turned and lost herself in the crowd with the only gift that a man had ever given her that she appreciated.

Her hands had shaken as she had tied a strip of fabric from her robe around Torin Blacksteel’s eyes. It was an utter travesty to cover them, but she didn’t trust him not to peek.

“Now I am very intrigued,” Torin informed her as he leaned back against the blankets of her bed. She straightened to move away from him, but he struck, grabbing her waist.

Even when he was blind, he could find her.

“I hope you weren’t about to leave me lying here without giving me a kiss first.”

Emara’s heart wavered, causing her chest to take a heavy inhale at his words. She held it.

“I don’t mind the fact that you have blindfolded me—in fact, I am rather enjoying it—but you can’t leave me on this bed without at least a little kiss. That is tortuous.”

Torin’s lips pulled into a seductive smile as his sultry tones vanished into the night, and Emara considered if her heart would ever not crash in her chest at the sight of his dimples.

Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips. He moved to deepen it, but she pulled back, leaving him with only the air around him. Torin bit into his lip, sweet frustration lingering on what she could see of his face. The room was dark besides the witch flames that burned in the fireplace, and its crackling was the only sound that could be heard apart from the pulse in her ears.

She swallowed, taking a step back, and he let go of her.

Walking over to the arch, creating space between herself and Torin, she reached up for the newest addition to her dress. Instead of fumbling with buttons or ribbon, it just slid open as she pulled down. Apparently, the zipper was sweeping through the female fashion society, and Lorta couldn’t wait for her to try it. Parting the fabric from behind, she moved out of the dress and it fell to the floor at her feet, revealing what she had on underneath.

The deep red bralette hugged the curves of her breasts in a fashion that was clearly made for nothing but seduction. The sheer lace that covered her rear was the same matching pattern and it was embroidered beautifully, hand stitched and so very delicate over her hips.

It really was a masterpiece.

Breighly had outdone herself. She had even added to the box two lacey garters, designed for fantasies.

Emara walked over to where a matching sheer robe hung over her towel railing. Draping it over her shoulders, leaving it hanging open, like Breighly had instructed, she took a breath.

The buzz inside her head increased, either from her magic or the rate her heart was beating, but she knew she wanted this.

She wanted him.

She wanted him over everything else that she felt right now. The darkest parts of herself had probably wanted him well before she was ready to admit it to herself. But this was her choice, she was in control of this moment.

“You can remove the blindfold.” Her voice broke from her lips, not sounding like her own at all.

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