Page 10 of Essence of the Throne

The prince sighs, running a hand through his hair. A puff of air sweeps over my skin as he closes the book and steps toward me. I may be angry with him, but it’s a relief to not see the dark circles under his eyes any longer. “Gavriel is loyal.”

“To you,” I point out, tilting my head as I press a finger to the center of his chest and push. He remains still—close enough that the heat of his body warms the chill in mine. “Not to me. Not to what we need to do.”

“He’ll do as I say, angel,” Caspian assures me, his voice firm enough that I know he will welcome no more talk of his guard.

Too bad I do not answer to him.

“And how far does that loyalty reach, hm?” His eyes drop and track the movement of my fingers walking up his chest. I hold back a smile when his muscles tense under my touch. “Gavriel is loyal to his kingdom. The man loves his rules. How can you be certain he won’t turn on you the moment you reveal your treasonous thoughts against the king?”

My hand drifts over his throat and catches his chin, jerking it enough for his gaze to meet mine once more.

I need to move away from him—the hunger and tension emanating from him are pure torture to my traitorous body.

But I don’t move. Not even when he steps closer, dropping his book on the shelf as his arms raise to each side of my head. He leans closer, and I use every bit of control I’ve learned over the years to stabilize my breathing. I cannot stop the flip of my stomach, and I wince as my shoulder jerks, instinctively wanting to cover the violent storm in my abdomen.

Caspian’s lips rise as he searches my face. “How do I knowyouwon’t turn on me the moment I help you find answers?”

I narrow my eyes, a smirk playing at my lips. Smart man, finally thinking with his head instead of his dick. “You don’t.”

His breath hitches, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Part of me—a part I desperately try to ignore—wants him to. The memory of his full lips pressing against mine, fighting for dominance as we both take what we want…

But instead he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “That’s what makes this so exciting, isn’t it?”

A shiver runs down my spine, and I hate myself for it. I loathe how my body responds to him—how my heart races when he’s this close. It’s a weakness I cannot afford.

But one I’m increasingly convinced is worth the cost.

“Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,” I mutter, pushing against his chest. He doesn’t budge, instead pressing the lightest of kisses just under my ear. “Dangerous, perhaps. Foolish, undeniably.”

Caspian chuckles, the sound low and rich and enough that a breath of raw need gets stuck in my throat. “Since when has danger ever stopped the illustrious Silver Wraith?”

Since you became more important to me than anything else.

I jump at my internal admission—something I’ve refused to acknowledge. I shouldn’t be thinking so openly. It’s messy and will cause more issues than I can deal with right now. It is all just repressed lust, anyway; nothing so important it requires more than a few mere heartbeats of my attention.

But the prince’s lips slide over my cheek, brushing faintly against mine, and suddenly I cannot remember why this isn’t a good idea. His hands lower to grab my waist, and I am but a willing hostage as their grip locks and prevents my retreat.

This position, these feelings, are dangerous. But Caspian is right…when have Ieveravoided it, instead of falling head first into its waiting embrace?

I open my mouth to retort, but something prickles at the edge of my senses. A presence, watching. Observing. My instincts scream danger.

In an instant, I clamp my hand over Caspian’s mouth and spin us around, pressing him against the bookshelf. His eyes widen, but I silence any protest with a sharp look.

My body is flush against his, every muscle taut as I scan our surroundings. The library appears empty, but the feeling persists. Someone—or something—is here.

I lean in close, a whisper barely leaving my lips. “We’re not alone.”

Caspian’s body tenses, understanding flooding his eyes. He gives a slight nod, his hand moving with a careful slowness to his sides as he considers his options.

He has none, but I let him think, anyway. He is my charge to keep safe, not the other way around.

I maintain my hand over his mouth, using the position to shield him from the darkened opening at the end of the shelves. I tug on my psionic strand and send the essence away. It gets no more than a few feet before a wave of wrongness touches it, and I recoilso hard that the strand slips loose, the essence slamming back into me.

I have never felt something so utterly revolting. Whatever that thing is, it's not natural, and for the first time since meeting the griffin, a trickle of fear settles under my skin. But not fear for myself. No, this thing is something evil—hostile. Its energy is indescribably death, and it will kill the prince and me without hesitation.

But it will not get so far. No one touches him but me.

I step away from Caspian with caution, my movements slow and deliberate. Every sense is on high alert as I inch toward the darkness at the end of the aisle. The wrongness I felt earlier intensifies with each step as a haze of decay and corruption threatens to overwhelm me.

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