Page 42 of Never the Roses

“If you agree to have one,” he replied agreeably.

“Such a tepid word.”

“Would you prefer ‘affair’?”

She eyed him. “That feels like putting the cart ahead of the horse. As for secrecy, yes to the necessity of that, though Tristan knows about you.”

“He doesn’t know who either of us truly is,” Stearanos countered, excitement rising as she seemed to be truly considering the possibility.

“That’s not the only reason this is a bad idea. We could accidentally incinerate each other in an argument over what to have for breakfast.”

“We’d never argue over that,” he pointed out relentlessly. “We like the same food.”

She planted her fists on her hips. “We’re arguing now.”

“No, you’re arguing—over something considerably more consequential than what to have for breakfast, I might add—and I’m making my case.” He grinned at her consternation. “And wearing you down, aren’t I?”

She gave him a look of pure frustration. “This is a ridiculous proposal. We don’t even know if we’re compatible.”

“You didn’t know if you were compatible with yon Tristan when he deposited himself on your doorstep.”

“Yes, but I can make Tristan leave.”

“Whereas you can’t control me,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Likewise, Dreamthief. But isn’t there an appeal to that? There is for me.”

Pursing her lips in sardonic disbelief, she raised her brows. “It drove you crazy that I could waltz past your wards and into your library, that I could put everyone in that overstuffed castle of yours to sleep—including you—and that you couldn’t do a thing to stop me.”

“True,” he immediately agreed, enjoying her surprise that he didn’t argue the point. “Which is why you have nothing to fear from me. We’d meet as equals.”

She gazed at him, lips parting for words that didn’t come. Encouraged, he continued.

“You drive me crazy, Oneira. You fascinate me. I am interested and aroused. I want more.” He’d closed the distance between them as he spoke, ending up close enough to her to feel the warmth of her skin, to catch the scent of herbs from her hair. She had to tip her head back slightly to hold his gaze, refusing to give any ground.

“You’re bored is what you are,” she observed without rancor.

“I was. Not anymore. You’re the most interesting thing to happen to me in a very long time.”

“I’m not happening to you.”

“We’re happening to each other. Give it a try, Oneira. You have only your loneliness to lose. Let me show you how it can be.”

Her gaze dropped to his lips, her resolve wavering. “What do you suggest?”

“A kiss.”

For some reason that amused her, her silvery eyes alight with laughter as they lifted to his. “It never rains but it pours,” she murmured, then continued before he could remark on that. “You intend to wake the sleeping beauty with true love’s kiss?”

“I never said anything about love, true or otherwise,” he countered. “And if anyone in this equation is the sleeping beauty, it’s me. All due toyourspellcasting, I might add.”

“You’re hardly the picture of sweet and virginal innocence.”

“And not beautiful, I know.”

“All right.”

“All right, what?”

“Kiss me,” she prompted, a glint of challenge in her gaze. “Convince me that you’re better than my pretty poet.”

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