Page 34 of The Midnight King

There’s a smile in his voice when he responds. “You must be new to the assassination game. Announcing yourself isn’t the best way to surprise your prey.”

“They told me you’d be an easy mark,” I reply, still concealed from him behind the trees. “You’re always wandering around without your guards.”

“I shouldn’t have to rely on guards in my own home,” he says. “Besides, any assassin who came after me would have a fight on their hands.”

“Is that so? You think you could take me?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll take you anytime you want.”

The term of endearment surprises me. I’m smiling ridiculously wide and I can’t stop. Yet it hurts to be so happy, because I know it won’t last. “Prepare to yield, Your Majesty.”

“Gladly.”

It’s time to be brave and bold. To show the King that I still want him, and that I’m not someone he can easily dismiss or forget.

I undo the ties along my left side and let the dress fall. Then I step out into the greenhouse aisle, dressed only in bits of leather and lace, with the blond braid over my shoulder.

The King goes still for a second, taking in the scanty outfit I’m wearing. Then he starts toward me, a hunter’s ferocity in his eyes.

I run to him, forgetting any games of pretend, and launch myself into his arms. He catches me up and spins me around, then captures my mouth with his.

I moan into the kiss, conscious of his large hand gripping my ass cheek while his other arm bands my waist.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again,” I gasp, nuzzling the scruff that cloaks his jaw.

“I will crave the sight of you every night until I die,” he says.

I withdraw a little, looking into his eyes. Here is another man who charms women with pretty words that he probably doesn’t mean. I must remember that, enticing as his company is, I can’t trust him any more than I can trust Killian.

The thought makes me sad and angry at once, and I hate feeling that way when I’m supposed to be enjoying myself. This ismytime. My escape from drudgery and darkness.

Fury blends with lust, and I shove him back with all my might. “Take off your clothes. Everything. The boots, too.”

He doesn’t protest or demand my respect—in fact, he looks rather excited at the prospect, a slow smile curving his mouth. He strips and stands in front of me, broad and brawny and naked, silver hair furring his chest and curling around the base of his cock.

I seize a folded cloth from nearby. It’s a little rough, probably used to wrap plants or their roots. “Spread this out and lie down on it.”

He follows my directions, and a triumphant frenzy blazes through my heart at being obeyed, at having someone who will yield to my commands and submit to me.

I don’t remove my stockings or heels—I rather like the effect they provide. Besides, they hide my anklet, and the last thing I need is someone else questioning me about it. I want to forget everything right now. I want to use this gorgeous, powerful man in a way I’ve never dared to use anyone.

I stalk up to his prone form, lift my foot, and nudge his erect cock with the glossy black toe of my shoe.

“This is a new side of you,” he says.

“I have many angles.” I trace my toe up and down the underside of his cock until he groans and reaches down as if to touch himself.

I switch my stance, catching his wrist with my foot, kicking it aside, and pinning it to the floor with just enough pressure to make him wince. He could easily break free, but he stays there, and his cock bobs twice, a sign that my forcefulness is making him even more aroused.

“Do not touch yourself,” I tell him.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Those words are the sweetest music to my ears. But I can’t let myself read into them. He would never make me his Queen, and even if he did, he’s planning to abdicate the throne to his son soon. My reign would be short-lived.

And my stepmother would never let it happen.

She ruins everything, everything…

---