Page 21 of Court of Secrets and Flames

My mind understands why I need to keep him at arm’s length, but my body didn’t get the message.

He leads me along for two beats, then guides me into a twirl. Once I complete the rotation, he tugs me close and whispers inmy ear. “Is my company so offensive to you that you have to grit your teeth to get through a single dance?”

He pulls back before I can sputter out a reply and casts a wary glance at the nearby dancers. Seemingly satisfied no one noticed anything scandalous, he scans the side of the room where the king disappeared to.

“Not at all. Offensive is far too polite to describe the way I feel about being forced to withstand your presence. I’d rather be dipped in hot oil and stranded in the middle of the Seela desert during a heat wave than subject myself to your lying mouth.”

I strut away for two beats as he stalks after me. “I think you like my lying mouth a lot more than you’re letting on.”

When he reaches for me, I block his advance with my arm. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to spare your ego.”

His quirked eyebrow conveys his skepticism, and I find the ease with which he reads me a little unnerving.

As the dance dictates, Knox pursues, and I retreat. Our strides quicken, the pace of the music matching my heartbeat as they both build in tempo.

Dancing with one brother after the other, I can’t help but note the differences between them. Both are graceful on their feet, but much of the king’s elegance stems from familiarity and practice. He cares about the picture he presents and wants to show he’s the best, which leaves little room for improvisation.

Knox’s dancing is less studied but more fluid. He knows his body, and his grace originates from time spent in physical training and on the battlefield. He’s not afraid to deviate from the choreographed footwork.

And right now, he’s using his skills as a means of seducing me on the sly.

When we quarter turn, his arm brushes the side of my breast. As we step, his thumb draws lazy circles on my palm.

On the next set of spins, his muscled thigh thrusts between my legs, parting my skirt and grazing a sensitive area for less than a blink before he retreats to a respectable distance.

Heat kindles in my chest, a flame that’s reflected in his eyes. My pulse thrums a dangerous rhythm, syncopated with the longing coursing through my veins. With a twitch of his hips, he prowls after me.

The dance resembles a hunt, with the male partner performing the role of the hunter and the female acting as the prey. But while Knox is clearly stalking me and upping the stakes in whatever game this is, I refuse to be prey any longer.

Once, when I was still weak and uncertain, he held power over me. Not anymore.

If he wants to play with fire, he’d better be prepared to get burned.

The next time he has his back to the rest of the dancers, I covertly slip my hand between his legs and palm him over his trousers. He’s already hard, and with one squeeze, hisses air from between his teeth and grows even harder.

His pupils dilate while the hand on my waist tenses.

He laces his quiet words with a warning that’s instantly nullified by the way his eyes linger on my mouth. “Lark.”

Satisfaction pulses beneath my skin, and I can’t stop a smirk from forming on my lips. “You started this game. You can’t get upset when I join in.”

His hand covers mine and presses down. “Does this feel like I’m upset?”

My pulse stutters. “No.”

Tension crackles between us while need pools low in my belly. He releases me, and I return my hand to his shoulder as we twirl back into view. A lock of dark hair slips over his eye as he cocks his head, and I’m tempted to tuck it behind his ear, butI give my own head a sharp shake instead. Playing the game is one thing. Showing him tenderness is another thing entirely.

I can’t allow myself to fall under his spell again.

As we circle once more, I catch sight of Leesa, who’s fixed her attention on us. Her gaze is a solid reminder that she’s the only person I can trust. And whatever I do, I need to protect my heart and prevent Knox from unraveling me.

“Careful, Duchess.” Sterling’s breath caresses my ear. “You just might forget you hate me.”

Once the music ends, I bow and pivot, desperate to put space between us. I need to clear my head, to calm my racing?—

“You look a bit peaked.” I yelp when King Jasper appears out of nowhere and hands me a goblet. “Try this.”

Happy for the interruption, I accept the goblet and peer into the crimson liquid. “May I ask what it is?”

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