Page 43 of Thrones We Steal

He sighs and his hand goes up to his hair. “The sooner we talk about this, the sooner you can leave.”

“Then just stop!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being a pain in the ass. Stop making it impossible for me to feel normal around you.”

He moves around to the back of the sofa. I take several steps backward until I feel the wall preventing me from going any further. He continues until he’s within inches of me.

“What are you doing?” I say. It sounds more breathless than it should. Damn that whiskey. He’s taking up every inch of space, and I can’t get a breath that doesn’t contain him.

“Making it impossible for you to feel normal.” His voice brushes my skin like a silky-soft feather. He props his hands against the wall on either side of my face and says, “I want you to feel alive, on fire. Passionate. Excited. Animated.” He shakes his head. “Anything but normal.”

I’m not sure the last time I saw Henry this close. His eyes burn through me like a forest fire looking for something—anything—to consume. They’re nearly black tonight, the color of a lush velvet night, with tiny specks of gold flecked through them.

“You arrogant son-of-a-bitch. What makes you think you can decide how I feel?”

“Because when you’re on fire you bring people to life. You bring me to life.” He pauses, then smirks, and that familiar glint comes back into his eyes, obliterating the fire that was there moments before. “And because I’m a pain in the ass.”

I shove him away and escape his suffocating presence that, combined with the whiskey, is doing weird things to my head. “I can’t do this.” What the hell was I thinking by even considering it?

The door seems a long way off, but I do my best to walk toward it without stumbling or veering off track. My fingers close around the knob at the same time Henry’s clasp my wrist.

“C, wait. Please. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t, Henry. Let go of me.”

He does. “Don’t go.”

I hesitate without turning around. If I go, I will lose everything. Beck is already gone. My pride, my dignity, and Wesbourne will soon follow. If I stay, and we go through with this, I’ll lose my home, most likely my sanity, but I’ll have a chance at saving my country.

“Don’t throw this away just because you’re mad at me.”

“Sounds like a terrific reason to me.”

“You’ll never forgive yourself if you walk away now.”

He’s right, so I don’t say anything.

“We could do this, you know. Make this work.”

“Sawing off my arm sounds more appealing.”

“God, liquor sharpens your tongue.” He lets out an amused exhale. “Let’s sit down. Your swaying makes me nervous. Plus, you’ll be warmer by the fire.”

I’m still shivering so I let him lead me over to the sofa and take a seat. “You actually think we should do this?” I say after he sits down at the other end.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think.”

“Why not?”

“You have a lot more to lose than I do. I’m unattached and I’ve known my whole life that I’ll be king someday. I have to get married some time. This moves up the timeline, but I always saw it playing out something like this.” He leans his forearms on his knees and clasps his hands. “Minus the bride who hates my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts. Although sometimes I fantasize about carving them out and feeding them to the fish.”

This makes him laugh and his laugh makes me smile. Just a tiny little flick of the mouth.

“I’ll be sure to lock my door,” he says.

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