Page 4 of Throne of Fire

His words are like a slap. But I’m made of pretty strong stuff, so I keep my head up. “Okay. But that doesn’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” I step between him and the couch, forcing him to look at me.

His gaze sweeps over my negligee, and something flashes in his eyes. Maybe my mother is right, after all.

"I understand that you don’t love me or find me attractive.” I take his hand and lead him to the bed. “We can just sleep, Ash. Nothing more."

Surprisingly, he lies down next to me.

“Good night.” I give him a smile and then turn away from him. I try to sleep, but I’m hyper aware of him next to me. An odd energy radiates from him. I really want to look at him.

I sigh and roll toward him, my hand brushing his arm. The small touch sends a jolt of electricity through me. Does he not feel it too? I want to look, but if he sees I’m awake, he’ll probably bolt.

But even without looking at him, moments later, he slips out of bed and heads to the couch.

My insides wither. I’m mortified. If he doesn’t want a wife, why am I here? Why do I have to give up my hopes and dreams for his family when he clearly doesn’t even want to try to have a marriage?

I bury my face in my pillow, trying not to cry. But it’s hard when all I can see is spending the rest of my life being shunned by my husband.

2

ASH

Flames lick at my consciousness. Heat sears through my dreams. Her screams pierce the darkness.

I jolt awake on the leather couch, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sweat plasters my shirt to my chest. The eerie shadows stretch long across the hotel suite floor like dark fingers wanting to consume me.

"Meghan." Her name tears from my throat before I can stop it.

The empty glass on the coffee table catches my eye. I grab it, stumble to the bar, and pour another whiskey.

The scent of smoke. The sound of screams. They reverberate in my brain as real as they had ten years ago. The night my life burned to the ground.

I down the drink in one swallow, but it doesn't chase away the memories. Meghan's smile. Her laugh. The way her eyes sparkled when she teased me.

I didn’t see her behind the wall of fire, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing the terror that must have been in those eyes. And I wasn’t able to do anything to stop it.

My fingers clench around the glass. The Keans took her from me. Just like they took my parents, left nothing but ashes and grief.

I collapse on the couch again, wondering why I bother trying to sleep. The fire. Meghan. My family. It haunts me.

And now I’ve been asked to betray Meghan by marrying another woman. But my new bride is just a means to an end. This isn’t a marriage of love. It’s a business deal. I suppose if I have to marry, this is the best way to do it. After the fire, I promised myself I’d never let myself care again. Not when everyone I love ends up dead.

I close my eyes. I need to focus on the mission—taking back what the Keans stole.

The bedroom door creaks open, and I tense, wondering what Hannah is up to. I glance over at her, seeing her stand in the doorway, a vision in white silk that clings to curves that I couldn’t ignore no matter how hard I tried earlier tonight. Her red hair tumbles loose around her shoulders.

Fucking hell, she’s like a goddess.No. I can't feel this.

“I just want a drink of water.” She takes a tentative step into the room, and I hate how she seems afraid of me.

"You should be sleeping."

"So should you." She starts toward the minibar.

I keep my gaze averted, but it doesn’t matter. Her reflection catches in the window, all creamy skin and dangerous innocence.

"I know this isn't what either of us wanted," she says, "but we're stuck together now. Maybe if you'd just?—”

“Get your water and go to bed, Hannah. Please."

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