Page 111 of Decadence

“Believe me, I would much prefer to keep them, but you must remember that I am a warrior.” His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Some strange twist of fate has allowed me to evade death yet again, and I am not going to waste this chance by being complacent. My duty is to protect you at all costs. If that means severing the horns once again, then so be it. There are plenty of other ways for me to experience pleasure.” At last, he looked up, his golden eyes burning right through her. “Even just looking at you is pleasure.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave him a wry look. “Uh, the last time you protected me? I wouldn’t exactly call that complacent. How were you supposed to predict that they’d send an invisible assassin after me?”

The line of Ikriss’s broad shoulders was as stiff as granite. “I failed to recognize the threat. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

She suppressed a shudder. “I’m hoping there won’t be a next time.”

“There won’t,” he said with chilling certainty. “So now you understand. There are some things that cannot be avoided.”

Unease pricked Sienna’s chest. What was wrong with him? “You wanted me to see this, didn’t you?” She shook her head in frustration. It felt like he understood the terrible significance of what he was about to do, and yet he didn’t want to sugarcoat things for her. “Like skulking around and disposing of your horns behind my back wouldn’t have been acceptable to you, would it?”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I will never hide these things from you, Sienna. As you very well know, the Universe beyond these walls is a harsh and unforgiving place. Sometimes, we become a reflection of the void we encounter. But I will never let that poison touch this—what I have with you.”

Funny, she vaguely remembered some quote from Earth that seemed similar to his words.

“I will get this done now, Sienna. The sooner I can be battle-ready, the sooner we can return to Earth.” His tone became gentle, in direct contrast with the menacing black blade in his hand. “Do not look so worried, my amina. We have been doing this for hundreds of revolutions, and I have shorn my horns twice before. It is harmless, and the skin grows quickly over the wound.”

She stared at Ikriss in horror and fascination, struggling to comprehend his words. A protest rose to her lips, but she swallowed it. She realized then and there that she loved him—with or without the horns, although she would dearly like for him to keep them, because she liked him in his natural state; she liked knowing that she could so easily enhance his pleasure—but if they were going to hinder him in combat, then who the hell was she to demand that he keep them?

That would be pointlessly indulgent, right?

Still, something about this felt so wrong.

Suddenly, Ikriss’s hand and the blade became a black-and-silver blur. Before Sienna realized what was happening, the edge of the blade was at the base of his left horn. His gaze turned terrifyingly cold.

Before Sienna realized what she was doing, she was moving toward him, and suddenly her hand was around his wrist, and she was trying to pull his hand away.

Of course, he didn’t budge. Ikriss was impossibly strong. It felt like his arm was made of steel.

“Wait,” she whispered, her heart hammering like crazy. “Just hold on a minute.”

Ikriss’s free hand closed around her wrist, his touch searing, his grasp oh-so gentle. “I am sorry, Sienna.”

How bittersweet his apology was; how seductive his deep, rumbling voice was.

That hint of sadness in his voice; so tiny she could have almost missed it.

But she was close to him now; she knew him.

How could she resist?

She steeled herself. “This just feels… wrong. I get that there are very good reasons for what you’re about to do, but to be forced to get rid of something…” That’s so unique and beautiful. That makes you feel so damn good…

She stared up at him, suddenly feeling intimidated. She knew she shouldn’t be; it was Ikriss after all, but she couldn’t forget that he was a highly trained Kordolian warrior with hundreds of revolutions of tradition behind him.

She took a deep breath. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe this was the old Empire’s way of denying you your identity… that it was a form of repression?”

He looked down at her, his golden eyes hard and unblinking, his expression completely unreadable.

Almost dangerous.

And very complicated.

“It did,” he said softly. “It does. All the time. And the irony does not escape me, because we did similar things to the races and civilizations we conquered. But that is the system that shaped me into what I am, and somehow, I am also thankful for it.” He pulled her hand away from his wrist, his grip pure steel wrapped in velvet. “Perhaps there will come a time when we no longer have to fight, but for now, this is the way we do things.”

Sienna relaxed in his grasp, her shoulders slumping. Before she could say a word, Ikriss leaned in and tenderly kissed her on the lips. His free hand went to the side of her face, where he gently caressed her cheek.

It was a slow, burning kind of kiss; full of deep appreciation.

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