Page 54 of Female Fantasy
Our chests rise and fall in unison.
Heat flares between us. This time, I’m certain it is not just my imagination.
Ryke knows how my husband treated me.
Trapped me.
Took away my agency and ordered me around like a common whore.
And yet he still expects me to submit?
“Please, my prince,” I whisper. “None of the sirens know what I look like. I am your best bet, your secret weapon. Use me.”
Ryke shuts his eyes for a moment.
When he opens them again, his expression is one of reverence.
“I do not want you to go,” he says, blowing out a short breath. “But I will never force you to stay behind. The choice will always be yours, my minnow. The decision will always lie with you.”
I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. “Does that mean…”
The next time he smiles, the roguish expression reaches his golden eyes.
“Merriah, will you please escort me to the Ball of Sinking Stars?”
And though I cannot see myself, I know my face matches his.
“It would be an honor.”
Chapter Eleven
The next time my eyes flutter open, light is flooding into the motel room, coloring every inch of the space a majestic golden hue. Both of us must have fallen asleep before thinking to draw the hideous paisley curtains. I yawn, reaching over to the nightstand and feeling for my phone. When I can’t find it, the truth dawns on me.
My phone is gone.
It was taken by Dumb and Dumber last night.
They’re probably halfway to Panama right now.
I cringe at the memory of the paper bag over my head, the sight of Nico tied to that chair…
Nico.
Everything he did for my brother. For my family. Forme.
Misguided, to be sure. But brave.
I suddenly become aware that Nico is all over me,everywhere at once. Somehow, in the middle of the night, we became entangled. His arms are wrapped around my waist from behind, the scruff on his chin scraping the juncture where my neck meets my collarbone. One calf is folded over my knees, his chest against the small of my back. He’s breathing softly against my skin, eliciting involuntary shivers. And I can feel the shape of something harder, something growing, digging into my backside.
Even weirder, the revelation does not repulse me. If anything, it makes my body react. I fight the temptation to arch my back, to squirm against him, not wanting to wake him up and ruin this rare moment of quiet.
“What time is it?” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
“No idea. No phone.”
He hums for a moment, and then his body freezes as he realizes where he is and who he is holding. I wait for him to panic, just as we both did in the truck less than twenty-four hours ago. But instead, after a second of uncertainty, I feel his tension melt away. The muscles in his body relax once more, as if settling into the decision to not make this weird.
The memory of waking up in the middle of the night and seeing him hunched over my annotated, dog-eared copy of my favorite book comes rushing back, faded and blurry, like a dream within a dream.
