Page 39 of The War Queen's Daughter

That’s how I miss the fact that Altar is suddenly at my side, his hand on my wrist. The same place Hallick just touched.

I don’t react well, spinning on him and pinning his arm behind him. It’s a lucky thing that I realize who he is before I hurt him, though from the widening of his blue eyes, the stiffness of tension, he knows how close he came to real harm.

“Don’t,” I snarl, “sneak up on me like that.” My fault. I need to pay attention.

Altar nods once, though he doesn’t fight me and simply stands there as I slowly release him.

The masked faces, the glittering jewels, the swirling dancers are suddenly too much, this grotesque parody vile to me. I am a wolf among sheep, a warrior among peacocks.

“Excuse me.” I stride away from the Overprince, heading for the furthest door, for escape. I’m blind to the people around me, but for the threat they pose, the taste of the wine I’ve drunk thick and revolting in my mouth.

When another hand grasps mine, I don’t get to lash out. Not because I don’t want to. The sizzle of his touch cuts off my protest immediately, and I know then, am reminded instantly, that the fear I felt is baseless.

Had it been the gorgeous rogue with the amber eyes like mine who had tried to drown me, his bare hands on my skin would have triggered this. The familiar grip wasn’t his, then, and I’m safe to allow him to twirl me around.

My breath catches. He’s not dressed as a guard tonight, but a nobleman, though where he came across his finery is a tale for a thief to tell, no doubt. He’s somehow able to think past the back and forth of heat that passes between us, and I find, as our touch lingers but doesn’t intensify, so can I.

I don’t dance often, not in public, but I’m capable, and when he tugs me to the dancefloor for a formal moment, I go with him.

Now fearful that I will always do so when Zenthris calls.

Whatever control he has over me, I will not show it, this kinspark he claims is likely just another means of teasing me. I don’t believe it, but it’s comforting to think I can say no if I choose, though my heart sighs otherwise.

Ridiculous and utterly captivating.

He is masked, like everyone else, but I would know him anywhere, even without those eyes. The scent of wild earth and something ancient, something untamed, radiates from him, intoxicating me.

“Remi,” he says, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. “Won’t your Overprince be jealous?” As though to challenge the words he just spoke, his body presses close, his hand burning against my back.

“Just shut up already,” I snarl and grasp his hand, leading him off.

It’s Zenthris’s turn to follow where I lead.

We end up in a small, darkened room off the corridor, the air thick with the scent of flowers, pots of fresh ones stored just a short walk from the ballroom barely granting us room to squeeze into. I pull the door shut, my back against the wall, Zenthris’s weight pinning me down as though I’ll fight what’s coming.

I fall into what I want, my first kiss hard, teeth catching his lip. His mouth is hot, hungry, his hands already beneath my tunic, jerking free my silk shirt from the hem of my breeches and dropping the fabric covering my legs to the floor. There’s fire here that began the night we touched in the tower, that we fed on that rooftop. For a brief instant, I’m reminded of the small, round man whom Hallick so casually sentenced to death, and then I belong to the moment again.

I moan when he crouches, mouth devouring the wetness between my legs, and I pull his face into me, his tongue circling and circling, barely needing suction to make my back arch. I come as my knees sag, but he catches me as he rises, one arm around my waist, the other pulling at his own straining need.

I help, hear something tear, laugh low and hot, fingers grasping for the thick, pulsing length of him that leaps from soft fabric, softer yet, that flesh. My fist pulls him to me, one leg hooking his hip and shoving me forward, as he stabs me deeply, all the way.

The dull impact of his tip against me is a pleasure I’ve missed, craved, and I push him back only to draw him against me again, harder. “Harder.” Gods and fire, harder yet.

He obeys, body arching against me, forehead pressing to my cheek, the taste of me on his lips when I lick his mouth.

It’s the sweetest, deepest agony when he explodes inside me and I ride his wave into my own one last time.

We need a moment, both of us. We don’t get one.

The door bursts open. Kell’s silhouette fills the frame, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Now,” he says. “Wehaveto go.” He doesn’t seem to care what we’ve been up to. “Now, Zen. They know we’re here.”

Zenthris growls low, furious, but frees himself from me, tugging at his clothes, heading for the threshold.

I don’t try to stop him. I’m satisfied, for now, at least physically. And I know he’ll find me again. But I have questions, insistent ones this time. And when he turns back and meets my eyes, he knows I won’t let them rest until he answers them.

“Be safe,” he says. And is gone, the door closing behind him.

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