A Court This Cruel & Lovely (Kingdom of Lies, #1)(38)

Gods, they’d laughed so often. They’d rarely fought, unless it was over me. The worst was when my parents took us to a wedding in the village. It was before we moved to our last village. The one I’d just…left.

I couldn’t recall who exactly was married that day, but I’d never forget the way the bride’s smile lit up her face when they vowed to be true to each other for all time.

When the groom took her in his arms and kissed her, the whole village cheered. I’d sighed, laying my head against my mother’s hip.

“I’m going to get married one day,” I’d announced. “Here in the village.”

My father had given me his amused, patient look. My mother had been battling a headache all day, and her voice had been sharp.

“No, you won’t, Prisca. Such things are not for you.”

My father’s expression had tightened, and he’d wrapped his arm around me. “Vuena,” he’d said warningly, and my mother had given him an impatient shrug.

“She needs to learn now. Better than to be disappointed later.”

“Let her have her dreams,” my father said softly. They hadn’t talked for the rest of the day.

A few months later, I’d learned exactly why such things weren’t for me. That was the first time I’d pulled that strange thread that had made time stop. But I’d vowed I would find a way to change my fate.

My mother continued to remind me I was different each time there was a wedding or a baby born or any of the other happy milestones of life.

“Prisca,” she would say, when my father was busy elsewhere. “Remember, this is not for you.”

And of course, like most people, the more I was told something wasn’t for me, the more I wanted it.

A knock sounded on the door.

I startled, an embarrassing squeak leaving my mouth. “One moment.”

Reaching for the bath sheet, I stood, wrapping it around me. The room was freezing, and I huddled by the tiny fire as I dragged on one of the mercenary’s shirts. Sure, they’d given me clothes, but I’d convinced them to let me keep a few of their shirts for sleeping.

“Who is it?”

“Lorian.”

“You can come in,” I called, and Lorian stepped inside. His eyes went dark, and I glanced down to see the shirt clinging to my damp skin, my nipples pressed against the cloth.

“That’s my shirt,” he said. Was his voice hoarse?

“Well, you can’t have it back.”

He rubbed his hand along his chin, still staring at me, and my toes curled on the cold floor. His gaze dropped to them, and he jerked his head toward the bed. “You’re cold. Get into bed.”

I complied. He began to strip.

My heart jumped into my throat. “What are you doing?”

“There’s still steam rising off that water, wildcat. If you think I’m letting a warm bath go to waste…”

That was my stomach swooping like I was on the edge of a precipice. “I can leave…”

“You’re not going anywhere alone. Close your eyes if the sight of a male body offends a lady as meek and modest as yourself.”

His tone implied there was nothing meek or modest about me. I glowered at his back. His skin was smooth, tanned, with thin white scars along his ribs, his back, his shoulders. He had the body of a warrior, and as his hands dropped to his pants, those muscles in his back rippled smoothly.

His shoulders were so…wide. I’d never seen a man built like him until the day I’d met the mercenaries.

The thought of that river should have dampened the strange, warm feeling in my stomach, but Lorian’s pants dropped to the floor and I sucked in a breath.

He slowly turned his head, and our eyes met.

His smile was very male. And very smug.

Don’t do it. Don’t you dare do it.

My gaze dropped to his toned ass, and I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

“See something you like?” Lorian purred.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He chuckled, turning to the bath, and I slammed my eyes shut. It wasn’t fair that he was so annoying and yet so fucking perfect.

Splashing sounded, and I cracked my eyes open. Lorian wouldn’t know I was watching him in the dim light.

I was pretty sure.

He reached for the soap. The thought of him smelling like vanilla was enough to make me smirk. But he ran his hands over his body roughly, until I practically itched to push those hands away and caress every inch of him.

What was I thinking?

I closed my eyes once more. “You did well today,” Lorian murmured, his voice low. Intimate. As if we were that couple I’d watched when I was a young girl and we bathed in front of each other every day. “With Galon. Your fighting is improving.”

It took me a few tries to reply. “Thank you.”

More infernal splashing. I didn’t understand how I could loathe someone on such a deep level…and then fantasize about his body this way.

It was a stress response. It had to be. I was alone, and my body was reacting to Lorian because it knew he would keep me safe.

I barely suppressed a snort. That thought was weak, even for me.

Lorian stood. I knew that, because I’d opened my eyes to slits once more. He stood facing me, his expression thoughtful as he reached for the bath sheet.