Page 87 of The Princess and Her Grand King

“You could pretend it’s one.” He reached for those sexy lips again.

But she drew back, horror replaced lust as she scrambled off the bed as though the sheets had caught fire. “No.” Shaking her head violently, she retreated several steps before stopping. "No, we can’t. We can’t."

His fists clenched to keep from grabbing her, from pulling her back into his arms where he knew she belonged.

Desire beat at him, hunger clawed all over him, demanding to be sated. But that panic in her eyes…

“Emeriel,” he extended a hand.

She flinched. Shaking her head again, she took another step back. "No… I can’t."

Then she turned and fled, footsteps echoing as she disappeared through the doorway.

Daemonikai didn’t follow. He couldn’t.

He sat there, motionless, something heavy settling in his chest. Sadness.

This was the first time he’d ever seen true fear in her eyes, and it was because of their passion. She wanted him as much as he did her; he had seen it, felt it. But it scared the living daylights out of her.

Something was truly broken between them.

And I don’t know how to fix it.

***

Emeriel avoided him like the plague.

For the next two days, Emeriel kept herself far from anywhere her beloved might look for her.

She hadn’t been to the gardens, her Frostfall bedchambers, or even her quarters in Blackstone. Instead, she busied herself with errands. Tasks that kept her moving, distracting her.

She hunted game and delivered the meat to the homes of the sick, picked herbs, and made medicinal poultices. Trained hard on the sparring grounds, spent her nights in Aekeira’s chambers in Blackstone.

After giving her youngling friend Bekka some food, she returned to the fortress gates, exhaustion settling in her bones.

Her guards weren’t with her. Their presence was good, also felt stifling at times. Tonight, she’d insisted they leave early.

As she passed by one of the garden pathways, she paused. Her plants needed tending, and it had bothered her all day.

"The workers are taking care of it,” she muttered to herself. "Stop worrying."

But it was no use.

Besides, what else was there to do but lie in bed and torment herself with memories of his sweet kisses all night?

With a sigh, Emeriel detoured into the garden, picked up a watering can, and set to work. The world fell away as the quiet rustle of leaves and the familiar scents soothed her.

She was so lost in her routine she sensed the disturbance too late.

A sharp whizzing sound split the air.

The watering can clattered to the ground, and with lightning-fast moves, she caught two of the incoming arrows, snatching them from the air.

But there had beenthree.

The third arrow struck her stomach.

Emeriel let out a choked gasp as a searing pain ripped through her.Son of a bitch.

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