Page 63 of Female Fantasy
Ryke’s lips meet mine, and every nagging voice in my mind goes silent.
I can no longer see the bodies spinning around me.
Ryke’s Upper Shoal watching from the corner of the room.
The sirens holding court on the dais.
My entire body, mind, and soul is invaded by him.
Him.
Him.
I open to the kiss like a water lily in bloom. His tongue runs over my teeth, and then he devours me whole. Worshiping my mouth, as if I am the one who belongs on the dais.
My senses are on fire. Beneath my scaled skirt, my toes curl as my fingers find purchase on his body. Every hair on my neck rises, and my breath comes fast and hot. I submit entirely to this moment as Ryke makes this declaration of…what?
Surely not love.
But passion.
Desire.
Pure, unadulterated want.
A want that I fully reciprocate.
But our moment is interrupted by a sharp, taloned tap on my shoulder.
And when I turn around, I find myself face-to-face with Talassa.
The false queen of Atlantia.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she coos. “I was so enjoying the show.”
Every muscle in my body freezes. This is not part of the plan. We intended to fly under the radar until it was time for me to create a diversion. If Ryke moves, if he utters a single syllable, she might recognize him.
So I lift my mask, akin to Ryke’s, and do what I did every day of my sorry marriage.
I pretend.
“Then kindly leave us to our second act,” I sneer, turning up my nose. “Your Majesty.”
She gasps, narrowing her eyes. “I have not seen you at court before.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I am but a visiting sentry, my queen.”
Her head tilts slightly toward Ryke. “And your dance partner?”
“My steward. A lowly mer from the swamplands.”
I watch, frozen, as Talassa’s bloodred eyes rake over Ryke’s lips, swollen from my kiss.
“Why is he masked?” Her talons scrape the gold ornament.
I force my voice to remain steady. “A sandstorm grossly disfigured his face several years ago. And I wish to look upon only pretty things, wouldn’t you?”
Her laugh is a throaty, vile poison. “Absolutely,” she says.
