Page 3 of Spearcrest Queen

I don’t think he ever will.

Back in the house,I rush to my room to get changed, to get away from him, from the memories of Spearcrest crawling through my mind like insects.

But he follows me into the guest room and before I can say anything, he cups my face in his hands.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks, eyes seeking mine. I drop my gaze out from under his, looking around the room, looking at anything but him. “Sophie,” he says, low and a little rough. “Look at me. I’m not completely stupid, I can tell something’s wrong. Have I said something to upset you?”

I shake my head, my throat tightening painfully. Even if I wanted to tell him the truth, I know that I simply couldn’t right now. So I free myself from his hands and turn around.

“Please, Evan,” I whisper. “Can you help me out of my dress?”

He obeys without protest, even though I can tell he doesn’t want to let this go. He unfastens my dress, warm fingers brushing against my back. I step deliberately back into him and out of the dress.

He buries his face into my neck, muttering against my skin.

“Stop avoiding the question. Tell me what’s wrong.”

But here, the balance of power is tilted on its axis. Here, Evan’s wealth, his family’s influence, everything he has in this life, which normally grants him power over me, it’s all meaningless.Here is where I have all the power, enough power to make me forget about tomorrow and about Spearcrest—so much power it sends a dizzying rush through me.

With an audible sigh, I roll my head back against his shoulder, arching my neck against his mouth, and I take his wrists to gently lead his hands up my arms and over my chest. He doesn’t need more encouragement than that to take my breasts in his hands, squeezing them through the black lace of my bra, and whatever words he was about to speak melt as his mouth moves hungrily up my neck.

Evan spins me around in his embrace, hauling me up into his arms. I’ve always been taller than most girls my age, tall and ungainly, but he lifts me up against him like I’m as delicate as a nymph, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me over to the bed.

When he spreads my legs and lowers his body down to prop my thighs on his shoulders, I reach for the bedside table lamp. It casts a golden glow that catches on Evan’s skin and sends his shadow looming against the walls.

When he sees me reach for the lamp, he looks up with a feral glint in his eyes, and catches my wrist. “Oh no, you don’t.”

“It’s too bright in here.”

“No.” He pins both my wrists down, throwing me a warning glare. “Keep those hands right there, Sutton. Don’t you dare move.”

“Dim the lamp at least,” I murmur as he tugs aside my panties with his thumb. “It’s ruining the mood.”

“No, it’s not.” He looks down at me like I’m the most delicious meal he’s been served tonight. “On the contrary, Sutton. Trust me.”

I don’t trust him, but I don’t need to. Evan’s love is always up for debate—his desire,never.

His desire is a living thing, imprinted on every feature of his face, every tensed surface of his body. It’s alive in the way he kisses me between my thighs, slow and lingering with his eyes closed like he’s praying, and the way he holds me when he fucks me, gathering me to his chest like he wants to encrust me there, the emerald in the gold pendant of his heart.

When he comes, his entire body trembles, and his lips are crushed to my temple, as he says, over and over again, “I love you, I love you, I love.”

And then he slumps over me with a strangled sigh, and he kisses my mouth.

“I love you. I can’t get enough of you. It’s like I’m fucking sick, Sutton, I just can’t get enough of you.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I know,” I lie.

Because Evan’s just dreaming, and when he wakes up, the soft blue dream will fade, leaving behind only the stark grey reality that I no more belong at his side now than I did at Spearcrest.

And that’s okay. Because this time, I won’t have to watch him wake up and walk away.

I’ll already be gone.

1

Dead Queen

Sophie

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