Page 65 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

“I don’t know.”

“You think I’d poison you?”

“No. But, I don’t know, it could make me act differently or something.” She was thinking that maybe it would make her more open to his romantic advances, but the sad truth was that she doubted she needed a drink for that. Still, he shouldn’t be giving her a drink to make her do whatever he wanted to do—if he even wanted to do anything. “Will this juice take away my free will?”

He shook his head. “This is taken from a rare flower, flumenscia. It has deep purple leaves and only grows in our land. I mean, grew. It’s known for its unique taste.” He smiled. “And it won’t make you think or act differently, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Go on, laugh. How am I supposed to know?”

“I wish you trusted me.” His eyes were wistful.

“I’m here. Isn’t that good enough?”

He nodded. “It’s like a dream I never want to wake up from.”

Naia felt flustered again, then took a sip. It was sweet, but not like a juice, more like a subtle sweetness and freshness. “It’s good. But what do you mean the flowers grew? They don’t grow anymore? They’re gone?”

He looked down. “I’m not sure. Dormant, maybe. Like some plants in winter, in places where it freezes.”

“It gets cold in the underworld?”

He looked down and shook his head. “No. We’re in the underworld, and as you can see, it’s not cold. It was just an example, or a thought to what’s happening with the flower. Or maybe they’re gone. So you better enjoy it while you have it. Some things aren’t meant to last.” There was sadness in his eyes as he stared at her.

“Like what?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re dodging the answer.”

“You’re distracting me.”

He took the cup from her hand and put it on the counter and gave her a brief, soft kiss, but then stared at her with that sad longing.

Naia didn’t know what made him so sad. She caressed his hair, feeling the soft strands through her fingers, then ran a finger over one of his horns, again fascinated by its rough texture.

“Don’t.” He pushed her hand away and shut his eyes, as if in pain.

“It hurts?”

“They’re sensitive.”

He still had his eyes shut. When he opened them, there was an intensity there that scared her. He pushed her against the counter, pressing his body against hers, and kissed her.

This was a different kiss, deep, desperate, filled with longing and wanting. He sat her on the counter, then slowly moved his hands up her leg, at first over her skirt, then under it, the feel of his nails on her skin bringing a shiver through her whole body, as he caressed her inner thigh.

There was something thrilling and exciting in the thought of those strange hands, those dark claws against her naked skin, those dark claws that she wished could explore more of her. And then he got closer and closer, Naia getting lost in the feel of his mouth, the heat of his body. He was so close that she wrapped her legs around him, knowing that it was wrong and inappropriate, deliciously wrong and inappropriate. He lifted her then carried her up the stairs, all the while kissing her.

Then she was lying on the bed. Her heart started hammering in her chest, as she wondered what was about to happen, lost in the feel of his kisses, lost in the touch of his hands trailing her body. But all that happened was that she fell into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

River stared at Naia,so serene in her sleep. This had been so, so close. But then, when he stared at her, he did feel humbled and ironically lucky that she was here with him, that she wanted him. She was the kind of girl for whom kingdoms were lost, empires fell, loyalties changed, betrayals happened. If anyone told his story, nobody would blame him for giving up everything for her—except that if he gave it all up, there would be nobody to tell his story.

River didn’t want Naia to fall for him, not yet at least. And yet he was the one who’d fallen deep into a precipice. Perhaps he’d been gone the moment she’d first saved him, looking at him with kindness instead of hate, with magnificent fascination in her pretty dark eyes. He’d been taken by her contradictory ways: daring but innocent, trusting but skeptical. And so beautiful and powerful.

Perhaps it had been wrong to give her the flumenscia juice, but in the end, it had saved her from him.

What had just happened? If she’d been awake for a little longer, he wouldn’t have stopped. He wouldn’t have stopped kissing her, caressing her, and he’d have gone as far as she would have let him, as far as making her all his on this very bed, this very night.

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