Page 114 of Heat of the Everflame

I blindly tugged at his scarf, loosening it enough to stroke the column of his neck. I looped a hand behind his nape and pulled him down so I could lay a kiss in the hollow of his throat. I felt him swallow, felt his pulse pound beneath my fingers, and still, he made no effort to resist. Encouraged, I pushed myself further.

My hands strayed beneath his collar, following his warm skin over the muscular planes of his shoulders. I gently rolled my thumbs into the hard knots I found until his tension eased and his posture loosened.

As surprisingly good as it had felt to surrender and let him take control of my body, I longed to return the favor. I wanted to cover him in loving hands and tender kisses, then ignite in him the same kind of cataclysmic bliss he’d just given me.

The thought of it made me brave and a little more reckless. I nibbled at his jaw as I dragged my hands over the front of his sweater.

Luther stiffened.

I kept going as if I hadn’t noticed, but his tension remained. We both held our breath as I grabbed the edge of his sweater.

“Arms up,” I said with a teasing lilt, “unless you prefer me to burn your clothes off you again.”

He didn’t move. I waited, still and silent. He didn’t so much as twitch.

My lips grazed his skin in blind search of his mouth. When I found it, I kissed him—light at first, delicate pecks that lengthened into slow, adoring caresses, then heated with an insistence that forced him to respond with his own urgent strokes. A hand tangled in my hair and tugged, angling me to deepen the kiss.

I began to lift his sweater. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, it rose, my knuckles brushing against the rippled steel of his torso, and then—

His hands clamped around my wrists and pushed them away. I heard the rustle of movement, then a cluster of orbs appeared across the ceiling to light the room. Luther stood a few feet away, tightening the scarf around his neck.

“Get dressed,” he said flatly.

My throat burned. “Why are you doing this? If you desire me, why are you pulling away?”

His expression stopped my heart still. There was no warmth, no fondness, no emotion at all. He was an empty husk—the cold, vicious Prince.

“Because life is cruel,” he snapped. “And we don’t always get what we desire.”

He turned to leave.

“Luther, wait.”

He kept walking.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”

He reached the door and threw it open.

“As your Queen, Iorderyou to st—”

The door slammed, and I was alone.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

He disobeyed me.

Luther Corbois.

Disobeyedme.

HisQueen.

It wasn’t even that I minded the disobedience. Though my stubborn temper didn’t always show it, Luther’s willingness to tell me no was something I both needed and cherished.

But this felt different. This wasn’t a simple disagreement, a debate that could be won or lost, shouted over or talked through.

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