Page 51 of A Game of Veils

I lower my voice to its most provocative tone. “A few minutes in my bed, and I’d have you shaking with bliss. There’s already so little between you and me. Imagine how quickly I could raise your skirts and spread your thighs, stir every delight between those legs until you were crying out for more.”

“I hardly think this is appropriate conversation for the hall of entertainments.”

And yet her breath has quickened. I extend my gift toward her with a tingle through my senses and grin. “It’s the highest sort of entertainment. And you’re already imagining it, judging by how wet you are from my words. I assure you, I’m even more talented with my fingers, and my tongue, and my?—”

Aurelia turns her head toward me abruptly enough that I hesitate. Her dark blue eyes capture me, and for one uneasy moment I have the impression she’s looking right into my soul.

I’m not wrong that I’ve turned her on. The evidence is there between her thighs and in the faint flush that’s come into her cheeks. But something about her gaze looks inescapably sad.

Her voice has gone even quieter. “I’m not the emperor or his heir or even a lady of this court. You don’t need to perform for me. I wouldn’t ask you to—I don’t want you to.”

She makes me sound like I’m that damned dancing bear in the painting. My jaw clenches automatically. “What are you trying to say?”

Aurelia’s gaze doesn’t waver. “If anything were ever to happen between us, it would only be if you’re indulging your wants as much as I am any of mine. Not playing a role to gain some bit of power. Not getting off on merely the challenge of it. Not adding some new layer to this ridiculous game. Just straightforward, honest desire.”

Hearing her lay it out so baldly feels like the slap she gave me in her bedroom the other day. It brings the same flare of conflicted emotions—fury that she’s struck back at me and a kick of lust that she dared, the latter shooting straight to my groin.

This time, a pang of something else pierces through my chest as well. Tarquin does treat us like his dancing bears, doesn’t he?

I wouldn’t have thought she’d notice. I wouldn’t have thought she’d realize it rankles me.

I wouldn’t have thought she’d care.

She probably doesn’t. This is just one more dimension to a game that’s more complicated than I anticipated.

If I’m no longer sure what the rules are, I’ll just have to wing it.

She wants honesty? I can measure it out as it suits me.

I recover my grin, letting it turn wry. “What if I told you I already crave you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman in this place?”

Aurelia arches her eyebrows. “Even though you hate me?”

She’s not pulling her punches today, is she? I summon an appropriate answer. “I wouldn’t say I hate you. Not everything about you. Besides, a little hate can be excellent spicing.”

Even as I say the words, I know that’s not quite right. I don’t hate who she is right now, not exactly. It’s who she’s aiming to become—who she will be, if she claims the spot next to Marclinus, if she has all that power within her grasp.

I don’t want to fuck the selfish, brutal empress she will be. But the blunt, naïve and yet knowing princess she is right now?

The thought sends a throb of desire through my veins.

Aurelia returns her gaze to the paintings, but she doesn’t move away from me. “I don’t hate you.”

“Maybe you should. Because I’m not going to stop reminding you how much you want me too, even if you won’t say it out loud.”

I lift my fingers toward her dress, this time extending them until they come to rest against the pliant flesh of her thigh. The spot right where her legs meet her hips, which any other day would present multiple layers of fabric to dull my touch.

Today it’s only a single swath of silk.

I stroke my fingertips slowly up and down. Aurelia wets her lips, but she speaks steadily enough. “Is that all you want out of life? An occasional craving satisfied, a sprinkling of spice here and there?”

“I take what I can get while my life isn’t really my own.” What it’ll be when I’m finally released from the emperor’s clutches… it’s easier not to think about that future while it’s still so indefinite.

She frowns, which is definitely not the reaction I wanted to provoke, but more color is rising in her graceful neck at the same time. “Was it Emperor Tarquin who damaged your hands? Or Marclinus?”

I let out a raw laugh. “It wasn’t. And I don’t want you thinking about either of them when I’m touching you like this. I don’t want you thinking about anyone but me.”

I sweep my fingers around to the front of her thigh, just inches from where she’s nearly drenched for me. The faintest sound escapes her throat.

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