Page 20 of His Brazen Bride

He hastily blocks the opening. “Careful. Your pretty hand can be recycled, too.”

He called my hand pretty!

Okay, this drink is really doing a number on me. It’s making me want to do naughty things to my…future husband.

“How do Kraetians mate?” I blurt. Then my face bursts into flames.

Ryz smirks. It’s infuriating, but I’m enormously turned on by it. “You’ve had too much rojok, Gwen,” he says in that deep tone that makes my skin prickle.

“I’m just curious. I mean, after seeing that gratuitous tentacle porn I have…questions.”

What if Ryz has other parts that aren’t visible, that only come out during sex? Not that I plan to see or engage with any of them. But it might be useful to know.

“Chom says our body structures are very similar, including sex organs. I’m sure our species mate in similar fashion, with a few minor differences.”

Ryz is speaking with clinical ease, and yet all I can imagine is wrapping my body around his, feeling every contour of muscle and sinew against me.

Jesus Christ. Is rojok an aphrodisiac or something?

“What’s in that drink?” I ask, suddenly hyper-aware of my aching, needy body.

“Liquor,” he replies brusquely, pushing up from the tree. “Let’s get you back to your room.” He holds out a hand for me to take. “You need rest.”

I stare up at him. “I needyou,” I whisper, then clap a hand over my mouth.

He arches a brow. “Don’t worry. I know it’s just the rojok talking. But it will help you sleep.”

Yeah, and make me want to climb you like a tree. I give him my best angry glare, but my face isn’t working properly. “You aren’t going to take advantage of me, are you?”

He scoffs. “A Kraetian Royal Commander does not need totake advantage.”

A shame.Okay, body, that’s enough.

What am I thinking? Ryz is right. I need rest.

I take his hand and pull myself up from the bench—too quickly, because I sway on my feet.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Ryz reaches out and grabs me around the waist. “Ohh,” I murmur as he lifts me into his arms and carries me like…a bride.

“You don’t need to carry me,” I protest, but it’s the weakest one I’ve ever given. I curl into him, gripping his tunic tightly.

“I know I don’t,” he says, as we move quickly through the courtyard and into the hallways. “But I’d like to get you to bed.”

I perk up at that. “Bed?”

“Yourbed,” he clarifies.

I pout, groaning pettishly.

Soon he’s laying me down.

“Don’t leave, Ryz,” I whisper.

He hesitates, looming over me. “I must, Gwen. I really must.”

Then he pulls away. “Good moonlight, my bride,” he murmurs as he leaves my room.

* * *

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