Page 49 of Rise of the Phoenix King (Crown and Crest 4)

Testing myself, I set my hand on her upper arm, stroking her bare shoulder with my thumb.

“Is it possible you and I have the same plan, soldier?” Clover asks, dropping her voice to a silken whisper that’s going to drive me mad.

“I’m not a soldier anymore,” I remind her.

She makes a noise deep in her throat. “Oh, yes, forgive me…Your Grace.”

I laugh a little, shaking my head. “I like it better when you call me soldier.”

“You didn’t used to like it.”

I hesitate for several seconds before I lower my lips to the soft skin just under her jaw, brushing but not kissing. “That’s not entirely true.”

Her pulse thrums under my lips as I trail down her neck, its pace as chaotic as my own. The smell of her sweet skin and the lingering exhilaration of the evening are a dangerous combination.

Clover makes a soft noise when I move to her collarbone, letting her head fall back. “Henrik…”

“I know.” I force myself to stop. “Too much.”

“Not nearly enough,” she breathes, laughing a little. “But I don’t have as much willpower as you. You must be careful what you start.”

She watches me, her eyes bright in the dark, lonely space. Her words don’t feel like a warning…but a dare.

13

CLOVER

Henrik’s gazeis hot and wanting, and I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’ll kiss me or choose to be a gentleman and walk me back to my quarters.

I’m just about to put him out of his misery and suggest we return when my intuition prickles, and I hear a soft noise from not far away. Henrik must hear it too judging from the way he freezes. He wraps his arm around my back, tucking me close, but the move isn’t amorous.

“What was that?” I ask in a bare whisper.

“It sounded like muffled footsteps on the rug.”

We stay still as we listen for sounds in the empty library. But there’s nothing.

“We’re jumpy, aren’t we?” I finally say with a laugh, still a bit unsettled.

And then I realize how little space there is between us. I’m pressed flush against Henrik’s very fine chest, and I have no desire to move.

“We should return,” he says. “We’re already late.”

“Not yet,” I murmur, my eyes moving to his face. I study the bow of his upper lip. It’s been too long since he’s kissed me.

Finally giving in, Henrik lets out a soft, dark groan and lowers his mouth to mine.

But our lips barely touch when a horrible, wailingshriekcomes from entirely too close by. Suddenly, the library doors fly open, and the silhouette of someone running into the hall shadows the entrance.

“What was that?” I demand, but Henrik is already heading for the doors. “Whowas that?”

“Stay here,” he commands.

“Like that ever works,” I scoff, on his heels.

He flashes me a frustrated look. “At least stay behind me.”

I follow him into the hall, bumping into him when he stops dead in his tracks. It takes less than a second for him to come to his senses, and he runs to the unconscious kitchen attendant on the runner, kneeling by her side.

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