Page 60 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

“I never said that.”

“You thought it, though.”

“Maybe.” A smile tugs on the corners of his mouth as he cups the side of my face. He clearly doesn’t think I meant it as a fact, his mood unchanged by my veiled admission that I read his thoughts.

We both freeze, suspended in this moment. Alec’s hand trembles over my cheek, and in the small twitch of his fingers, I feel every bit of his restraint.

He squints at me. “Will you fire me if I kiss you?”

“Try and find out.”

Ever since I was drenched in his blood, his scent—leather and honey—does twisted things to my brain. I want to bathe in his blood again and drag his skin across mine. My tongue darts outs to wet my lips, and before I can find out exactly how good of a kisser my infuriating bodyguard is, the door is yanked open behind me.

In the blink of an eye, Alec is back to his original position by the window, his posture as professional as ever.

“Is everything all right with your room, your highness? Do you want me to help you change?” A handmaiden asks too politely, her intrusion as calculated as her gaze.

“Yes. I’m ready.” I clear my throat loudly. “Thank you, Mr. Beaumont. That’ll be all.”

Alec hikes his sunglasses up his nose and slithers out, and I’m left in shambles without him, struggling to catch my breath. One second later, and we would have been caught red-handed. One second later, and my future here, along with my reputation and overall chances to fulfill my duty to my family, would have been shot to hell.

Chapter 23

Waste Away

ARIELLE

The dark spectacle of the Pereiras’ court almost blinds me as I walk down the length of the ballroom’s mezzanine. One story below, jugglers throw around lit torches while acrobats spin above the guests’ heads in artful and seductive poses. Intricate delicacies are being passed around by human waiters dressed like they belong on a haute-couture runway. Huge glass panes have been removed to connect the ballroom with the open-air terrace on the roof, the weather still hot and humid.

The king presides over the party from his throne at the bottom of the stairs, a trio of human girls sitting on the floor next to him.

Multi-colored gowns sway in all directions to a hypnotic beat that makes the floor vibrate under my heels. Sequins, silk, chiffon and satin brush the checkered marble floors as red cups are being served, wine and blood flowing like a never-ending crimson river.

The train of my dress drags along the marble as I approach the sumptuous staircase overlooking the party. Orchid garlands snake around the banister, their pink, purple and white petals bent to the florist’s will—as all ornaments are meant to be.

The king clearly expects me to be one of them, and I swallow hard, the edge of my feet teetering over the top step.

“We’re far from home now, aren’t we, Mr. Beaumont?” I say.

Alec’s shoulders hitch. Though he shadows my every step, I never speak to him in such instances, expected to pretend that he doesn’t exist, but I’m acutely aware of his presence as he nips at my heels. In the beginning, I felt like a prey he was pursuing, but now…now I think of the gleam in his eyes when he leaned down to kiss me.

He presses his lips together and offers a curt nod in response. “Indeed.”

It would be easy to be swept away by the current and drown in the glittering dazzle of this court. I could dance the night away, toasting to the king’s health. He means to use my beauty as a symbol of his reign, envied by all for his young, blue-blooded wife. I bet most of his lords and ladies will spy on me until dawn, hoping to glimpse at a weakness or a flaw.

They call this a rehearsal dinner, but I suspect any reason to party is a good reason in their books.

In reality, the opulence barely veils their barbarism. The waiters are blood slaves, and the girls on the king’s arms painted their mouths red and sprinkled glitter in their hair to hide how badly their knees are shaking.

Felipe’s lewd gaze brings chills to my neck, and I grip the railing. “Don’t leave me alone tonight, not even for a second.”

Alec steps closer ever so slightly, the heat of his hand delicious on my lower back. “At your command, princess.”

The quietness of his voice and his lack of cheekiness shivers through my entire body as the loud music dies down.

“Princess Arielle Delacroix,” the butler announces.

The lords and ladies raise their glasses in cheer and offer me a quick bow. Sweat, jealousy, and servility fill the air—as long as we serve them fine wines and quench their thirst for blood and entertainment, we own them. The drums awaken my cold heart, and the fury in my veins pumps harder for every guitar string pulled.

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