Page 158 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

A small, satisfied smile twinges at the corner of his mouth. “It is a relief.”

The air is chilled, the moon a fat crescent above us, and I press closer to him for warmth. He places a warm hand on the back of my neck. It’s as though he wraps me up in a cozy blanket with that one touch.

He hands me into the carriage before him. I arrange my skirts as Rahk slides onto the cushion next to me, the faint creak of leather mingling with the swish of fabric. He orders Clifford to drive, and draws the curtains shut.

Then he turns to me. His eyes seem to shine brighter in the darkness, his silver hair gleaming in long waves. This carriage feels simultaneously too small and yet vastly too large. Acting on impulse, I lean forward and touch his hair. I am reminded again just how soft it is. He sits quietly, holding still while I run my fingers through a silver lock, testing its silkiness against my thumb.

“You have beautiful hair,” I say.

His fingers land on my cheek, sliding until they wrap around to the nape of my neck. He pulls me to him, his mouth pressing firmly against mine. My sigh escapes me even before my eyes flutter shut. His grip on my neck tightens in response. I fall into his kiss. It wraps around me like a cocoon, making me forget everything outside this carriage.

My limbs turn to warm wax as I melt against him. His mouth is soft, but it is not gentle. He tilts my head and deepens the kiss. My head explodes with lightness. His other hand lands on my shoulder, his fingers stroking along the column of my neck, tracing the line of my collarbone, dipping to the sensitive skin of my upper back. Everything is so warm—every inch of my body, his mouth, his touch. I open my eyes just long enough to see the deep furrow in his brow as he holds my face and molds my lips to his.

His whole body shifts closer to mine, his mouth moving to my cheek, my jaw. My hand reaches out for support and winds up gripping his knee. Breathing fast, he kisses my mouth again, wrapping an arm fully around my waist and pulling me against his chest. His hand slides into my hair, messing up Mary’s careful pinning of the fake bun.

I should exercise restraint. I should pull away. I should not let this continue.

Instead, I wrap both my arms around Rahk’s neck and close all distance between us. I kiss him hard, with the hope that my gusto and enthusiasm cover my lack of skill. He responds immediately, both of his hands wrapping against my ribs and holding me close to him as he chuckles.

He kisses me again, very deeply, very slowly, until I forget everything until the carriage grinds to a halt.

His gaze lifts from me, sharpening, as the footman’s steps come toward the door. I reach up to touch my hair, my face, finding the fake bun hanging by a single pin. My gown is wrinkled and mussed. Rahk surveys me quickly, registering just how disheveled I look. His mouth twists in a wickedly satisfied smirk.

“Mary is going to know,” I hiss.

He cocks one very Nothril eyebrow. “And why is that bad?”

Mary would kill me if she knew I was kissing Rahk—because Ishouldn’tbe kissing Rahk. It’s like cold water splashes over me from head to toe, dousing the warmth brought about by fatigue and darkness.

What have I done? I never should have—

Rahk seems to note my sudden distress. He catches my face suddenly between his hands. I am so startled, so suddenly torn between leaning into him or pulling away, that I turn to a statue in his hands. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he presses his forehead against mine, swiftly closing his eyes. My eyes remain open, so I catch the way his face contorts, either from strain or pain. Just as suddenly as he grabbed me, he releases me.

My head feels different. I reach up to touch, only to find my hair back perfectly in place. My dress, too, is perfectly smooth as it was at the beginning of the night. I open my mouth just as the carriage door swings wide.

“Glamour,” Rahk mouths to me as the footman hands me out of the carriage.

I send him a grateful look over my shoulder. The heat hasn’t left his gaze. I look away quickly. Sunrise is still a few hours away, mercifully. Maybe I can get some sleep, even if it’s just a little.

After what just happened, though, I doubt I will be able to sleep at all. Instead, I will tangle in my sheets and wish the carriage had never arrived. Even now, I can hardly see the hallway I walk; I see the furrow between Rahk’s brows as he kissed me. I feel his touch and his lips. The cold of this night cannot reach me.

Mary is waiting in the bedroom for me. Her eyelids droop, but she smiles when she sees me. “Did you have a good time?”

Rahk is right behind me. “Take your rest, Mary. I will help Kat as she needs.”

I blink, suddenly alert. Mary glances at me, a question dancing across her irises. I nod quickly, too afraid of what my tone might betray if I speak.

She leaves at once.

Then we are alone once again.

I hurry toward the vanity. In the corner of my vision, Rahk flicks his wrist, and whatever glamours he placed on me disappears. I find myself staring back at the very disheveled version of myself. I set to work at once, pulling the askew pins out of my hair, freeing the bun, and brushing the tangled mess through.

Rahk kicks off his boots and slides them into his wardrobe. His back is to me, and I watch covertly through the reflection in my mirror as he shrugs off his overcoat. I swallow. Removing my gown is a task for two people. He’s going to have to help me. I steal another glance his way as I remove my jewelry.

I bet he knew very well that he would have to help me.

A thread of helplessness washes over me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to not hurt him in this situation. If I act distant, that will hurt him. If I release my inhibitions and fall into his arms without a thought for the future, that will hurt him too.

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