Page 90 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

“Yes. Walk with me?” Viridian asks. He’s practically bouncing on his heels, giddy as if he were a child on the eve of the winter solstice. It makes me wonder if he has something planned for us.

So, I nod, falling in step beside him as we continue down the hall past both of our bedchambers.

“Why did you leave last night? After I…” I let my voice trail off.

“Because,” he says, looking at me now, “if I hadn’t, any self-control I had left would have disintegrated.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask. Insecurities flood my mind. Have I misread his signals? Does he not want me the way I want him?

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he assures me, voice firm. “But when I have you for the first time, Little Fawn, there’s no going back. I want you to want it, entirely. Because once I get my hands on you, I will see to it that no other man ever touches you again.”

When he has me.

He says that as if he knows it will happen, one day.

“Oh,” I murmur. The insecurities that once clouded my mind float away, replaced by impure fantasies. Of all the ways he will coax bliss from me, all the places on my body he will shower with tenderness and affection.

Not if, but when.

Just thinking about it makes heat spread through my body. If Viridian can barely touch me, the way he does now, and still give me such pleasure, then I can only imagine how amazing it will be when he finally touches me.

I want him to touch me. To mark me as his.

His eyes darken, and I know he must want that, too.

But then he swallows. “Come,” he says, the child-like glee returning to his demeanor. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow. “What is it?”

Viridian smirks, as if he expected me to ask that question. “It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

The first time someone surprised me, I was twelve. The morning of my birthday, Father told me that he’d planned a surprise for that evening. It ended up being a small get-together that I loved, but I’ll never forget the anticipation. The constant wondering and uncertainty. I like to be prepared, to be ready for everything that comes my way—Father taught me that. For humans, it’s safer that way. But I can’t prepare myself if I don’t know what’s to come.

“Trust me, you’ll like this one,” Viridian says, confidence bolstering his words.

“All right,” I surrender, and a playful undertone seeps through my demeanor.

“Close your eyes.” He grins. I love seeing him smile—the way his face lights up, free from the stony expression I’d come to know when I first arrived.

The cogs in my mind whirl, and I have so many questions waiting on the tip of my tongue. But I don’t give voice to them, and I do as he asks.

He takes my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.

My heart flutters, light in my chest. As much as I want to open them, I keep my eyes closed.

I follow him some distance, and the cool air that meets my skin tells me we’ve stayed in the castle the entire time.

What could he have to show me in the castle?

We go a bit farther, and then Viridian stops. The sound of wood scraping stone and creaking of hinges tells me that he’s opened a door.

“All right,” he murmurs, without letting go of my hand. “Now you can open your eyes.”

I do, and I raise a hand to my mouth.

In the room before us, there’s a mid-sized table made from richly colored wood. Its legs are ornately carved, with flowing swirls and curves to the wood—not the straight, plain ones I’m used to. There are shelves lining the walls, filled with leather-bound sketchbooks of varying sizes, and pencils, charcoals, and colored wax sticks for drawing. On the far wall, directly in front of us, there are several large, gold-rimmed windows that stretch as high as the ceiling. Sunlight shines through them, leaving the whole room awash with its rays.

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