Page 29 of Red Queen

“The only treason is Catarina. I will sit on the throne again.”

“Agreed,” she says, taking the used cloth and folding it. “But they might think you are betrothed. Or worse. He is taking you for a fool.”

I narrow my eyes at her and set the goblet down, ice slicing down my spice. “You mean he is using me for his pleasure? Fine. I’ll use him, too.”

“Queen El?—”

“I swear to you, once I reclaim my throne, he will be discarded.”

Nadia’s eyes soften, but there’s a hint of sadness there. “Just be careful, my sovereign. Hearts are often more fragile than we think.”

I pick up the goblet, down the dregs and set it down with more force than necessary. “Careful is for the weak. Now, leave us. I have a battle to prepare for.”

Nadia bows and retreats.

I turn toward where Alexandru still speaks with Ivan. He glances at me, the forthcoming promise of more training—or perhaps more than sparring—etched in his heated stare.

I brace myself for whatever comes next, whether it be the clash of swords or the clash of wills. The line between the two blurs dangerously each day with Alexandru, and despite my stubborn resolve, I don’t know what it is he wants from me, beyond being king, and though that will never happen, I forbid it, I find myself both dreading and anticipating the tension that electrifies the space between us.

Alexandru dismisses Ivan and approaches. The crisp winter air does nothing to cool the heat simmering at the sight of him. The tight leather gives him power that radiates, a raw sexual energy which seep down into me and I can’t stop drinking him in. No man should look so good, the broad shoulders, narrow hips, all those highly defined muscles which speak of virility.

He is not a man to be crossed.

When we were training, I didn’t take notice of what he represents, the power of him in his fighting clothes, the strapsand buckles of the outfit, the leather, fingerless gloves which fit like a second skin.

I swallow.

It all fits like a second skin, from throat to glove, chest to cock, thigh to boot. He’s arresting. And now the ice has been replaced by a blazing silver flame in his gaze, he crosses the courtyard, the snowy background, the white that clings to stone is a wild and stark contrast to the black-clad god that approaches.

And every step the intensity in his eyes, the vibration of power through him, grows and it’s all for me. The tension, the energy, that look.

An involuntary shiver streaks down my spine.

“Shall we resume?” He gestures toward the open space with a devilish smile. “This time without weapons.”

The meaning throbs deep within.

“Let’s see if you can keep up.” I drop the sword to the ground with a clatter.

We circle each other once again, poised for combat. My heartbeat speeds up and I tense.

“Remember, Eleanna, it’s about anticipation. Predict your opponent’s moves.”

“Like reading your every thought?” I crouch and sidestep.

“Good luck deciphering the enigma that’s me.” He swiftly maneuvers behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. His voice drops to a whisper, his mouth against my ear. “Got you.”

It’s a moment from the past, playful and deathly serious. Sex and honey. The words reverberate and I close my eyes.

Radiating heat, he overpowers the chill of the winter air. His muscles tense as he holds me closer, one hand sliding up. He turns me and then his mouth meets mine with an intensity that sets my skin ablaze. The warmth of him seeps through myclothes, down into my marrow and I’m caught in a cocoon of desire and passion. I’m overwhelmed as I lose myself in his touch, unable to resist the fiery spark that ignites between us.

Unable to resist the heat and wetness of his tongue as it takes mine. I could sink down into him and give over to everything this kiss is and could be.

The passionate kisses spark a primal desire to give in to him completely. My mind reels with thoughts of conquest and surrender—and I want both. To be victor and prisoner. Slave and mistress. Conqueror and conquered.

His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat and he scrapes his teeth on the mirror spot where I drank from him. He doesn’t bite in, no. Instead, he licks, nibbles and sucks so the blood pulses up against my skin and his tongue.

My clit throbs as waves of pleasure spread over me. I’m not orgasming. It’s transcending that, this pleasure. It’s like religion and I want to worship at his altar.

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