Page 93 of A Game of Veils

“Do it.”

He closes the last few inches between us to press his mouth against the side of my neck. Lightly at first and then, at my shaky sigh, parting his lips to swipe his hot tongue over the sensitive skin.

As I close my hand around the errant strands of his hair, he charts a scorching path from the corner of my jaw to the crook of my shoulder. Every flick of his tongue and scrape of his teeth floods me with more need.

He must be able to tell. I press my legs closer together beneath my dress to try to relieve the pressure, and the prince chuckles against my skin.

He eases the neckline of my dress over on my shoulder, branding the uncovered skin with kisses in its wake. The shifting of the fabric pebbles my nipples and sends even more arousal pooling between my thighs.

Raul’s fingers skim across my other shoulder and down my side, and I’m abruptly aware that this encounter could spiral beyond my ability to corral it within a matter of seconds.

I grasp his hand as it reaches my hip, easing it away from me and scooting beyond his eager mouth in the same motion. “That’s enough.”

Raul grins down at me with a feral intensity that almost makes me regret my self-control. “No, it’s not, Aurelia. It won’t be enough until you’re begging the only way you ever should—for me to bring all the pleasures you’ve imagined to reality. When you’re ready for that, I swear you’ll never feel as worshipped before or after. But I can wait.”

I keep my tone mild. “You make a lot of promises.”

“Only ones I know I can keep.”

I hold myself still and calm until he’s slipped out the door. Then I set my elbows on the vanity and bow my head into my hands.

The heat Raul kindled in me burns on.

All three of these men are getting too far under my skin. I have to remember why I wanted them on my side—or the future I’m vying for might go up in flames.

Chapter Thirty

Aurelia

In the hour before dinner, after a bath that’s done much to soothe my unsteady nerves, I seek out the rest of the court and find most of them gathered in the parlor. I didn’t think I could go any longer without my absence being remarked on again.

As I walk into the room, the first gaze that locks with mine is Prince Neven’s from where he’s standing just beyond the doorway. The young prince’s bright brown eyes narrow into a glower with the tensing of his posture.

“Enjoying yourself, Your Highness?” he asks in a sharp tone. At the back of his mouth, I catch a flash of the steel teeth Melisse mentioned.

I can already tell this wouldn’t be a productive conversation. I dip my head to him in acknowledgment while veering in a different direction. “As much as you are, I’d imagine.”

I’m a little worried he’ll follow me to let out whatever animosity he’s apparently still harboring, but the next time I glance around, he’s disappeared within the crowd.

Now that my only real friend in the palace has been relegated to staff, I’m more adrift than ever among the members of the court. Even my fellow competitors who I’ve talked to before in vaguely friendly ways turn the other way as I weave through the room. The other gentlemen and ladies eye me up and down and murmur to each other, but the best they offer me are thin smiles that hold no warmth at all.

When I cross paths with Bianca, she shoots a smirk my way before primping her sleek upswept hair and sashaying onward. She’s done her work well, chilling the court against me.

I’m going to have an upward battle even if I win the marriage I came here for.

I end up near one of the doorways, watching for a server to enter and taking a glass of wine off his tray before anyone could have had a chance to meddle with it. When Fausta and Bianca are in the room, I’m not inclined to leave my safety to chance.

As I sip the tart liquid, a slender figure approaches at the edge of my vision. Prince Bastien inclines his auburn head as if examining the trinkets displayed on the shelves along the wall.

“How are you faring?” he asks. He doesn’t glance my way, but there’s no one else near enough for him to be talking to.

I adjust my weight, evaluating the ache lingering in my legs. “I’ve felt better, but I can get by. I’d imagine I’ll be fully healed within a week.”

He lets out a rough breath. “I wish we could have done more. If we’d found you sooner?—”

“I’m lucky you did at all.” I pause, measuring my words. He’s given me a perfect opening for the request I was already hoping to make. “There is something else that would help, though.”

Bastien’s head ticks slightly toward me before he catches himself. “What’s that?”

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