Page 73 of Of Song and Scepter
And when the familiar fear rises from my gut, poised to protect me, I brush it away. “No,” I answer him, matching his smile with one of my own.
Chapter forty-three
Enna
I wake up beforedawn feeling overwhelmingly hot. Soren’s arm drapes protectively across my stomach, pressing my body deep into the cushioned mattress. Soft down cradles my aching body; sheets tangle around my legs. The darkness is punctured by the light of a lantern outside, its shadows sweeping through the large and ornately decorated room.
As I take inventory of my surroundings, I recognize Soren’s bedchamber, complete with the large pool carved into the center of the floor. The memory of last night floods back to me, and my face warms, deliciously happy. I shift my hips, bringing a stretch to the ache in my lower back, and my thighs brush a hard length of skin tucked between them.
I freeze as he shifts beside me and his cock slips further between my legs—hard as a rock even in sleep. My core flares to life at the brush of attention, instantly drenched with longing.
I clench my thighs, trying hard not to move. But the clenching draws his cock right where I need it, nestled against my clit. My stomach tightens at the slightest movement.
Fuck.I grind my teeth, bite my tongue, dig my claws into my palm—anything to distract me from the temptation of riding Soren’s dick while he’s slumbering. I shift my hips, hoping his cock will slip away, but in the movement, that velvety, ridged tip slides straight through wet heat, andgoddess, I need it again. Another shift, minute and controlled, and the pleasure builds. Blossoms. If I’m quiet, maybe he won’t wake up and discover my ruin.
Memory supplies the backdrop for my fantasy: Soren prowling through the streets of Aquisa, his eyes dark and searching; Soren, pinning me against the stones, his tongue dipping into me, his chin running with my juice; Soren’s eyes as they claimed me with a look.Mine,he’d growled.
I moan, sliding along the length of his cock and clenching down. Each orgasm has been different with him—from explosive heat to the slow burn of lava. This orgasm blooms. The scent of him lifts from the bed—safe, warm driftwood.
Goddess, what did I justdo? As the flutters of pleasure fade, I stare at the ceiling.
My gut twists into knots with sharp realization. Soren could still choose Odissa. For all he knows, she is Princess of the Abyss, perfect marriage material. And then that’d make me… what? His favorite concubine?
This is the end, for us. I will not fuck him again.
I had a plan last night; I’d slip into the sea with my stolen goods and swim until I reached the Rime or my blood price claimed me, whichever came first. Instead, I’m lying here, sorein the passing of my latest orgasm from the cock of the male meant for my master. A bag of the treasure I’ve stolen from his kingdom rests on his desk.
I eye the leather pouch warily, nestled in the silk pool of last night’s dress. I have two choices: I can take that treasure and run now, let yesterday’s events stain my soul with the sweetness of a one-time thing—okay, a two-time thing—or I can stay and see this through. Whateverthisis now.
What the fuck am I even doing anymore? Odissa is doomed to fail, and it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have just ridden her prince’s cock. Not to mention the stolen glances, or yesterday morning on the beach. The conversation at the tavern. The very first moment I met him, topless and sunburned, where he’d looked at me like a fish meeting water after a day in the sun.
The familiar tingle of my blood oath creeps through my veins, poised to pounce. I’m sabotaging the mission.
Beside me, Soren’s face is smooth, softened by sleep. The strong, commanding male from last night is gone, replaced by this guppy-like calm. A dark curl splays over his forehead, and I lift my fingers, as if I might tuck the strand behind his ear. My heart squeezes. He sighs, those plump lips parting. His breath brushes my fingers, and I push the curl to rejoin the rest of his dark halo.
What I would give to stay right here, insulated in the protection of his arms. To have him wake up next to me, greet me with kindness in his eyes, press his lips on my forehead. His mouth would spread in a sleepy grin, and he’d say something stupid and cheesy, or call me Wicked for staying the night.
Stay.
I want it badly. I want him more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. And I cannot have him.
The dark magic solidifies, wrapping itself around my will. I cannot help Odissa succeed if I stay. The magic knows I’ll only get in her way.
Lifting his arm from my waist, I tuck it next to his chest before swinging out of the bed. I locate my knife, belt, and chest piece, securing the casual garments around my body.
I turn to leave, but the metal of the locked drawer catches my eye. Is Soren really hiding that deadly necklace in his room? I twist my claw in the lock, slide the drawer open, and take the velvet pouch.
I weigh the necklace for a moment, admiring the shiny metal as it reflects the moonlight in the room. It warms at my touch, the same way it did when Amura wore it around her neck.
Such a small thing, with enough power to wipe out a kingdom.
But what does Soren want with it?
I chew my lip. Soren is too kind to use a weapon like this, not unless there was great cause for it. My blood turns to ice. My scalp prickles with understanding.
He doesn’t trust Odissa.
The two weeks of silence after their time alone together, all those dinners he took in his room, his eagerness to deliver her into the hands of other dancers last night. It all clicks into place.
