Page 102 of A Pact of Blood

He undoes my slim belt and reaches to loosen the lacing at the back of my dress, but I said I’d be looking afterhim. And it’s much easier to set the pace when I’m taking the lead.

I tug the hem of his shirt from his trousers and yank it upward. Marclinus obliges me by helping to peel it off.

As I tease my fingers over his sculpted chest, I smile up at him with all the promises his hallucinations will fulfill rather than me. A pang of need is growing between my thighs, but I ignore it.

I’ll give in to my inflamed desires tonight, but the gods can all smite me before I get that close withthisman.

The potion’s aphrodisiac qualities must be skewing my perceptions as well. The answering stroke of Marclinus’s hands down my sides and up to cup my breasts feels bizarrely gentle. The branding of his lips against my mouth, my jaw, and my neck are exploring rather than conquering. When he guides me backward to the bed, it feels more like a dance than a demand.

Even if he is being more tender with me tonight, that could never erase all the nights when he’s treated me like a doll for his amusement—or any of the horrors he’s carried out during our days together.

He finally finishes loosening my dress in the midst of another kiss. As the silk pools around my feet, his gaze trails over me in its wake.

His fingers skim over my scarred forearms and trace the gold marriage band at my wrist in a way I’d call reverent if that made any sense.

Marclinus catches my gaze. “You are lovely, aren’t you? Every part of you.”

What am I supposed to say to that?

I step around him and nudge him onto the bed. “I have quite the view to appreciate as well, husband.”

His more leisurely foreplay has served me well. He’s barely settled back onto the pillows before the gleam of anticipation in his eyes hazes over.

I lean over him, stripping off my chemise. His gaze drifts across my body with a vague fumbling of his hands against the covers.

“There you go,” I murmur. “Just like that.”

When I tug his trousers and drawers off him together, sliding across his erection, he groans. His head tips back into the pillows. His hips rock with the imagined sensations flooding his head.

Just this once, a prickle of guilt pinches me right behind my sternum. The damned potion is messing with my head too much.

I wait until I can clean up after him and then drape an extra blanket across him so he won’t get cold. A dab of my additional sedative ensures he’ll sleep through most of the night.

Anticipation thrums through my body. The heat betweenmy legs pulses deeper with every brush of my thighs against each other, but it’s too early to leave just yet. I signaled to the princes to meet me at the bell for midnight, when most if not all of the court will have retired to their own beds.

Biting my lip, I wriggle back into my dress, retie the laces, and pick up my book of history to try to distract myself.

By the time those twelve rings reverberate through the palace walls, I could moan with relief. I push open the garden doors and step out into the darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aurelia

The air has cooled with the coming of night, more than it normally did back in the capital farther south. I’d find the breeze that licks across my skin and through my dress more refreshing if it didn’t put the heated ache between my thighs into sharper contrast.

Arousal pools in my drawers with the friction of my steps. I try to focus only on the stone wall ahead of me, looming in the darkness.

My feet whisper across the tiled path that leads between the trees and shrubs. The warble of the fountain should drown out the sound to anyone not right next to me.

I shouldn’t need to worry about anyone at all wandering these grounds or peering from the windows that overlook the garden. The only people currently in residence in the imperial apartments are myself and my unconscious husband.

The inner barrier that separates our private gardens from the more public courtyard stands lower than the pale walls of the palace around me but well over my head. As I approach it, my pace slows. I strain my ears.

One or another noble might have drifted away from the court revelries to steal a private moment in the gardens. As soon as I’m on the other side of that narrow wall, I’m not guaranteed of my privacy.

And then there’s the matter of getting to the other side in the first place.

I left the logistics to my princes and their gifts. When I’m just a few steps from the wall, I ease into one of the thickest patches of shadow and wait.

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