Page 35 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Expression firm and unmoving, Garrik said flatly, “Humor me.”

Regardless of his intentions, Alora rolled her eyes but nodded.

On tantalizing steps, she headed to the door and placed her foot on the threshold in a dangerously drawn-out movement. She could’ve sworn she saw fire behind his eyes at her game. And when her foot reached where that invisible wall was for Garrik …

Alora’s eyes widened in horror.

Panic set in her face. She kicked the barrier in a rhythmic cadence. One—two—three.

Garrik’s face tightened. Terror ignited his eyes, and he lunged forward, hands slamming over and over into the invisible wall that locked her inside. “Alora!”

A wicked grin played on her face, releasing a terrible cackle as she reached through the barrier and gripped his wrist.

“See. It’s fine.” She laughed—and continued laughing. The swell of her cheeks reached her eyes as she pulled away before he could force her through.

Garrik muttered something that sounded like a curse, then warned through his teeth, “It would bewiseto not test me, clever girl.”

Those eyes darkened, stepping dangerously close to her across the barrier. So close she caught his leather and metal scent and could see his quickened pulse under the scar on his neck. Garrik’s eyes flickered to her wicked smile, then to her sapphires before his fist pressed against the barrier.

Leaning into it, his voice deepened in a taunting growl, “Unless you wish to be punished later, then by all means, do continue.”

There was something other than a real threat there.

Something fluttered low in her belly.

His words … the sheer predatorial stare … how his body tightened, positioned so powerfully …

Staring each other down for a moment, Alora willed herself not to move. Not to swallow or even loosen a breath. Instead, she dared an enticing step forward, testing his threat, and hovered at the barrier.

Alora traced her finger along the barrier as if were his chest, brushing down his muscles, mere breaths from doing that very thing, and said, “It wouldn’t be a punishment if I enjoyed it.”

Garrik’s pupils dilated.

She became painfully aware of exactly how her taunting affected him, yet she kept her eyes from wandering down, knowing the evidence she’d find.

His breath tickled her cheek as he leaned in. She could almost see the very thin ribbon keeping him from snapping. Almost wishing he would when he said, “You have … five seconds … to walk away before I turn a wall into a door.” And he would. She saw it in his eyes as they flickered to the bed, and then he began counting, “One.”

Alora’s breathing went uneven. She considered crossing.

“Two.” Garrik pushed from the threshold, balling his fist.

Three,she thought.He wouldn’tactuallydo it, would he?

“Four.”Garrik turned to the wall beside the door with destruction in his eyes.

Alora stepped away before he began remodeling. “Okay fine. Stand there and watch me if you must, but I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied Blood isn’t here.”

Garrik’s hand found the wooden frame and squeezed hard enough to crack it. He watched as she moved about the room.

She searched piles of hand-drawn art on desks, opened each drawer, and rifled through every stack of paper. Her fingers sank between cushions and under pillows, moving curtains.

Alora inclined her head slightly at another doorway and the room beyond. Plastered with wrapped boxes—gifts of various proportions and sizes. Some open, most not. They remained stacked in corners, piled atop one another with torn paper, loose ribbons, and wrinkled seams. Those that were open beheld more finery. Jewels, art of a city of clouds, unworldly gorgeous gowns, handwritten letters, crowns, keys, and perfumes.

Behind her, Garrik shifted in the doorway. His glare weighed heavily on the back of her head with every step, every touch, every movement she made.

“Worried, mighty prince?” she asked. “Afraid I’ll sit on this bed and never leave?”

Garrik’s face turned primal as he growled low but said nothing.

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