Page 33 of Heir to His Court

What was the right thing to do? Crush his fragile hope? Tempting, since he apparently thought me both a political whore and helpless. I remembered that he was one of my best friends, and he couldn’t function without all of his limbs.

“Let’s try a kiss,” Numair said, mistaking my silence for hesitance. “A night together in bed—no, I don’t mean sex. Sleep in my arms. Become accustomed to me. Think of me as more than a friend.”

One Numair, two Numair, three Numair, four. Do not shove his head through the door. “We’ve slept together.”

“Exhausted after a battle and collapsing into the bed with Juliette doesn’t count.”

I smiled reluctantly.

“Do you really want him?”

“How could I not? Have you seen him? A corpse would want him.”

He sat on the bed, leaning close. “Rinne.”

I turned my head to meet his gaze. The warmth, the sweetness in his gaze, the affection were a balm.

But I was not his.

“Do you want me?” he asked.

“I hadn’t let myself feel things like that for you. I knew it would make our life complicated.”

Numair chuckled, a deep, masculine sound, the way he lowered his chin and looked at me both arrogant and sensual. “You’re afraid of me.” He sounded pleased.

What fresh delusion was this? “I am not afraid of you.”

“Hmm.”

Of course he didn’t believe me. Arrogant Fae warriors.

He slid his arms under me, pulling me up into a gentle cage even when I tried to roll away. My pulse beat faster as I suppressed a curse. Numair never acted like this, crossing boundaries. He showed flashes of his possessiveness, but—it hit me. He’d never felt threatened before.

“Numair, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Rinne, you know I’ve never wanted to press you. You had enough to deal with and the way some of the males behave when they stake a claim is disgraceful.”

He made a face then sighed, tucking my head under his chin. I didn’t relax. I think his misread ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ as concern for his feelings rather than a literal statement.

Because Ididcare for his feelings, I still hesitated. “Numair.”

“I am not staking a claim. I wouldn't do that to you unless you asked. If you need me to, I will.” His body tensed against mine. “The Prince needs to know not to take you for granted.”

ThePrincewould shatter every bone in Numair’s body then string him up over the dinner table and drain his blood into goblets while remarking on the fineness of the vintage.

“A kiss,” he said. “And if there is nothing there, I’ll walk away.”

I considered him. I didn’t owe him a kiss to prove what I was trying, gently, to tell him, but. . .it might simplify the situation.

And then I could shove his stubborn head through the door. Just hard enough to make a point. He’d pout, but he’d heal.

His lips were on my forehead and my cheek, his hand tilting my head up to claim my mouth in a kiss.

I didn't resist, not want to spark a spiral, for him to cross that line of unrequited desire into a Fae male in rut. Renaud would kill him. Numair tasted of hot summer days, bonfires, and the laughter of my childhood. But there was nothing but vague, pleasant warmth.

He pulled away, settling next to me. “Try to sleep,” he murmured, a touch of resignation in his voice. “I’ll keep watch.”

I slept. Deep, dreamless, until I woke with a shock, my cheek stinging. I pressed my palm to my face. Someone had slapped me awake. Someone was pissed. Cool air swirled around the room.

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