Page 72 of Court of Treachery

At the thought of him, she whirled around, clutching her hands over her chest—but he was not there. The screen remained in place. Beneath it, no shadows, no hint of his feet, nor anything untoward. It was quiet—so silent, her ears rang. “Dimitrius?” she called.

“Yes?”

The panic clutching at her chest receded and she took a deep breath. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Harper squeezed the water from her hair and padded to retrieve the towel from the screen, leaving a trail of watery steps behind her. With brisk strokes, she dried herself, grateful for the warmth of the steamy room, because already, chills bumped across her skin.

“I don’t suppose there are any fresh clothes out there I can use?” she asked, staring regretfully at the pile of dirty garments next to the bath. Even if she washed them now, they would take a day to dry, if not more. Harper finally felt deliciously warm for the first time in goodness knew how long—she had no desire to don cold, damp, battle-damaged clothes.

The chair in the bedroom scraped as Dimitri moved. A drawer screeched open. The armoire doors clunked. “Hmm.” His voice was muffled as though he rummaged inside it. Harper wrapped the towel around her chest, tucking a corner in to secure it so it covered her to her knees, and pulled back the screen slightly to watch him.

Dimitrius had his back to her. He’d taken off his dark jacket, and she could see the hint of his muscled form beneath the midnight shirt he wore. He had dropped to one knee, elbow deep in the chest at the foot of the bed and pushing aside throws. Something clunked against the wood. As he withdrew his arms and huffed with annoyance, she drew a sharp breath at the sight of his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the flex of his forearms—covered in more of those exquisite, dark tattoos. She had not realised they stretched all the way from his neck to his wrists, and some irrational, primal part of her wanted to see them all.

At the sound, he turned to her—and his eyes instantly darkened. His voice, when it emerged, was carefully even. “I’ve found a tunic I think might fit you, and some leggings. They might be a little large, but there’s a belt.” He held it up.

“Thank you.” Harper slipped from the bathing room and padded across the fur on the floor towards him. It was deliciously soft and warm on her feet in contrast to the cool stone.

Dimitri rose to hand her the garments. She took them—freezing as his hand tightened on her forearm to stop her turning away. He drew her closer, running the tip of his nose up thesensitive skin on the inside of her wrist and inhaling deeply. “Your scent is exquisite,” he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. Her heart skipped a beat to be this close to him again, with nothing between them save for their own decisions. Dimitri’s dark eyes took every inch of her in. “You’re making itincrediblyhard to be a gentleman right now, Harper.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be,” she breathed. That pressure was building inside her, a desperate need for some release in the face of such overwhelming darkness and a loss of control over every other part of her life.

Dimitrius laughed harshly. “You are going to be my ruin. Say the word, and I will do whatever you let me. I am yours to command.”

He was so close. Close enough that her nose filled with citrus and musk, and his warm, firm hand upon her stole away all reason. In that moment there was only her, him—and the choice hanging between them. “Then kiss me.”

62

HARPER

Dimitrius grinned wickedly and a rumble escaped him as he hooked an arm around Harper’s waist and pulled her closer. In the next moment, his mouth captured hers with a bruising kiss of need and want. Harper moaned as his sinful lips teased hers apart and the velvet warmth of his tongue brushed hers, delivering instant release—and a rush of liquid fire that chased through every vein.

Harper’s body moulded into his and the clothes fell forgotten from her hand as she raked a hand up through his perfect hair, undoing him as he undid her—scraping his teeth across her lip as he took it into his mouth, sucked, and released. Pressure built in her core. Her body felt aflame with his touch—one hand holding her waist firmly through the towel and the other sliding up to grip her jaw. That firm hand tilted her up to him so he could devour her. Her toes curled into the thick fur under foot, and had he not been holding her up, her knees would have given way. Her towel fell between them as they moved with each other—and when he realised and withdrew, leaving a cold absence on her glistening lips, he froze.

The noise he made was utterly feral as he glanced down to see her naked form before him. His indecent gaze raked downher, from the slicked wet hair trailing over her shoulders, to her bare stomach and below—snagging when he swept his attention up again and found her hard nipples pebbled against the shock of cool air.

A yelp escaped her as Dimitrius swept her into his arms, lifting her so her chest was level with his face and his hands gripped her bare backside. She clamped her legs around him, squeezing harder than she intended to and letting out a ragged cry as his hot mouth found one hard nipple, enveloping it in warmth and wetness. He swirled his tongue around it, grazing it oh so lightly with his teeth. It was an explosion of sensation that blinded her for a second as every nerve lit incandescent with pleasure at his attention. She arched into his touch, pressing closer, but Dimitrius would not be rushed as he switched his focus from that breast, lavishing just the same on her other nipple as he feasted upon her.

Then, they were moving—and the world tilted. The soft bed rushed up to meet her as Dimitrius laid her amongst the covers and settled between her legs. The divinely solid weight of him took her breath away for a moment—and then he pressed into her, an unmistakeable hardness bulging into her core. She whimpered, so sensitive even that graze of fabric felt like too much. His mouth covered hers and stole the sound away. Propping himself up on one elbow, his other hand found her breast and he palmed it. A finger rubbed over the tip of her nipple, sending lightning through her, and then he squeezed, edging that pleasure with pain.

Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Harper let out a sound of frustration against his lips. The clasps gave way, and she plunged her hands into the depths of his shirt to run her palms over the planes of his inked chest and shoulders, revelling in the dips and peaks of muscle and bone she found there before her hands rose of their own accord to tangle in his hair andpull him closer still. Harper could not kiss him fiercely enough to convey the need raging through her—this was everything the kiss against the tree could not have been. Here, there was no need for secrecy and silence, no need for swiftness and no room for shame or guilt. As he consumed her mouth, with every despicably irresistible flick of his tongue and nip of his teeth, she came undone yet more.

This wasnothinglike the fumbling and inexperienced encounters she had shared with Alric where her feelings for him had outweighed the pleasure he had served her. He had been a boy barely into manhood then—but Dimitrius was undoubtably a male, and he knew how to play her body like an instrument. Even the mistaken kiss she had shared with Aedon had held none of this promise of flamed desire.

Aedon.

The thought of him sent her blood ice cold. Aedon. Brand. Erika. Ragnar. Her friends. Suffering at the hands of their captor—whilst she selfishly took her pleasure in relative safety and comfort. All the desire raging inside her ceased at once.

“Stop!” she gasped against all the instincts of her body which had writhed under his touch and come alight at his attentions just moments ago. She pushed at him—but she could not budge his bulk. And yet, at her word, he stopped instantly.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” he demanded, evaluating her quickly, efficiently—and finding nothing wrong. “What is it?” His hand slipped from her breast to cup her cheek.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his touch—now so gentle—threatened to undo her anew. But guilt coiled inside her, feeding on her doubts.

“I can’t do this.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I want to, even though I shouldn’t—but I can’t. I could not live with myself, taking my pleasure with you, here, now, whilst my friends suffer.”

Dimitrius quickly masked his disappointment, but she had seen it slide across his features. “As you wish.” His words were restrained as he pulled away and stood, leaving her naked upon the bed. She scrambled off it to retrieve the towel, wrapping it around herself. Still, his attention ensnared her and she felt pinned in his gaze. It made her skin crawl as the discomfort bubbled to an unbearable strength, as though it would claw itself free of her skin if it could.

Her eyes dropped to his fingers. They deftly rebuttoned his collar, hiding away the shadowy ink on his chest. “You’re a better person than I. I would have taken you all the same.” His admission sent a thrill through her. A dangerously tempting one. “Why should you deny yourself pleasure for the terrible things outside your control?”

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