Page 77 of The King's Weapon

Still, she wanted more. More of him, more of a distraction from her raging thoughts. She tossed her leg over his waist, felt his body against her, felt the strength of his chest beneath her hand, a hardness beneath her leg.

His hand left her neck and she wanted to whimper. She needed his touch, needed the pressure against her skin. But then his hand landed above her knee and skimmed her leg where the slit in her dress revealed her bare skin to the cool night air. His touch was warm, gentle as it stopped at the top of the slit. With his thumb, he began drawing shapes across the skin. And not even the night air could cool the heat building at her core.

She gripped the back of his neck pulling him closer to her. Her fingers traveled up through his hair. She tugged his soft locks, pulling a fierce noise from his lips that sent a shiver down her spine as he gripped her thigh in warning.

Kallie grinned against his lips. The bread had fulfilled part of her hunger, but she was still starving. Her hand traveled down his neck. Brushed over his pectorals, his ribcage, his stomach. Lower and lower.

She needed a release. She needed to feel in control over something. For this one moment, she would neither plan nor scheme, she would not make any life-altering decisions. She would just—

Hiccup.

"By the gods," Kallie groaned.

Graeson chuckled and moved back, then pushed himself up to a sitting position. Kallie threw her head back down on the dewy grass, pressing her hands against her temples. Her body still raged with an uncontrollable heat. But the absence of his body pressed against hers left an emptiness in its place and the heat simmered within her.

Graeson cleared his throat. "Come on." He hovered above her with his hand extended toward her, the moon once again morphing his body into a silhouette.

She tried to make out his features, but darkness consumed him.

The moment was gone, reality crashing back in and she hoped that his shadow cast on her hid her reddening cheeks.

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. The swift motion had her insides turning and the heat dissipated completely.

As Graeson tried to lead her forward, she tugged her hand back, wrenching it from his grasp. She bent over at the waist. Her skin now clammy. Before she could stop herself, she threw up onto the damp grass, barely missing his shoes, her hair pulled back by hands other than her own.

Chapter23

With someone having drawnback the white curtains, the sun streamed in through the ceiling-high windows covering the walls of Kallie's borrowed room. As she propped herself up and wiped the grogginess from her face, her head throbbed.

How much had she drunk last night?

A fog surrounded her memory of last night. She didn't remember going to bed. The last thing she remembered was going to the kitchen with Graeson and the delicious baguette she had stolen.

With a hand, she shielded herself from the blaring sunlight that seemed insistent on being an annoyance. The emerald dress she had been wearing lay across the back of a simple oak chair near the closet. Dirt covered the bottom of it. She knitted her brows together, but the sound of someone rustling in her closet made her store away the questions it brought.

A moment later, Myra strolled out of the closet with a flowing piece of fabric in hand and a bright smile on her face. "There's some ginger tea on the vanity table. Graeson stopped by and told me that you might need it."

Kallie sighed in relief, but the mention of Graeson had her mind flipping. Whatever happened last night involved him.

"I was also told that the royal family requests your presence for breakfast." Myra sat her clothing on the back of the chair.

"Thank you, Myra," Kallie mumbled.

Myra offered a small smile in return, but her stance remained rigid, her presence heavy with questions and concerns left unspoken.

"This is weird, isn't it?" Kallie asked, spinning her mother's ring around her finger. "I mean. . . My mother's alive, and my father. . .." The words were stuck in her throat, for saying them out loud would make them real.

Myra exhaled and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. "I know. Alyn—I mean, Armen told me what he did when you were a child. I didn’t want to say anything when we talked yesterday, since it wasn’t my story to tell. Though when you think about it, it does make sense. The king was never. . ."

"Warm-hearted?" Kallie suggested. Her father—no, King Domitius,nother father—had never been one to coddle Kallie or been a person she could turn to with her worries. Instead, he had expressed his love by throwing her into training. At least, Kallie had once assumed that was the case. But now she wondered if he even cared at all or if he had been using her this entire time.

Myra huffed. "To say the least."

As Kallie tried to hold back the building tears, her voice was barely above a whisper, "I gained one parent, but at what cost?"

Myra said nothing as she wrapped Kallie in her arms. And at that moment, her friend's touch was worth more than any words she could offer. "You'll figure it out, Kals. You always do."

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