Accomplice to the Villain (Assistant and the Villain, #3)(124)

His eyes smoldered down at her as he began to stroke a part of her that made her go beet red, but he looked down upon her like he’d just made a grand discovery. “I knew the blush went lower than your neckline.”

She couldn’t believe she was about to laugh at a time like this. “Is that something you’ve been contemplating?” she asked incredulously.

But she was silenced with his mouth and didn’t mind.

And there was no more talking after that.

Just sighs. Moans. Brief pauses to catch their breath before diving back into each other once more. She stroked the gold band around his biceps, and he folded his hand over the gold band around her pinky.

The sensations in her climbed as he continued the motions, kissing her neck, her cheeks. Pulling back as he brushed a gentle hand down the scar on her shoulder, which glowed in colorful pulses. “I will stop. You need only tell me, and I will stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop. Ever,” she said, going for the placket of his pants, undoing the buttons with eager fingers, only stopping when he grabbed her wrists. His dark eyes were molten as he stared at her naked body before looking right into her soul.

“I need you to know that I will, though.” He was so earnest, so grave. Like he couldn’t have this part of her unless he knew she trusted him fully.

She pulled him back down toward her, brushing the sides of his face, pushing the hair away and kissing his cheek. “I’ve known that from the moment we met.”

It wasn’t placation, it was the truth, and it was clearly what Trystan needed to vanquish the last of his doubts. He pulled her in, laying her down with a ferocity, a passion she’d never known and knew she never would with anyone else.

Clothing was thrown about the room, his hands and lips everywhere, and then he gripped her thighs with reverence as he joined his body with hers. There was nothing but sensation then, nothing but heavy breathing and moans of relief as the wall between them finally came crumbling down.

When it was over, Evie was boneless, her heart and body wrung free of all feeling and yet simultaneously overcome with nothing but feeling as Trystan dragged her into his arms, her back pressed against his, caging her in protectively. Just as he did the first time they met. And as Evie’s eyes drifted shut, she remembered…

It had felt this right, even then.

…

A few hours passed as they drifted in and out of sleep, and when they awoke, the rain was slowing to a stop.

Evie shoved up her chemise, then refastened her corset over it from the front, righting herself as best she could, feeling suddenly, uncharacteristically shy. She flattened her curls only for them to pop up again in various, opposing directions. “I hope it was…”

Trystan did a double take as he fastened his pants. “It was…?”

She sighed, hating that she was receding back into her blithering. “I hope it was worth it. Waiting, I mean. I know you haven’t done that in a while, and I hope I wasn’t a bad reintroduction or bad in general—”

She stopped talking when she saw his expression. The kind that was so cut with frustration it defeated any point in arguing. “Evie. In case it wasn’t obvious: You’ve ruined me.”

Evie didn’t have to guess—she knew it was a compliment with the smolder that accompanied it.

The sounds outside dissipated, the storm lightening to a slight pitter-patter.

They looked at each other a little sadly, but still, there was that small tinge of hope somewhere not so far beyond it. “The rain stopped,” she said.

Trystan nodded. “The rain stopped.”

“I’m not giving up on you.” She spoke it aloud so they both understood. “Ever.”

His eyes bored into hers, the fondness in his gaze like a caress. “Gods help the fool who tries to stand against you, Sage.”

As the boss slid the door open, Kingsley appeared before it, holding a sign up in Trystan’s direction.

Finally.

He swiped the sign angrily, shoving it in his pocket. “I swear when that enchantress turns you back into a man, I’m burning every sign within a fifty-mile radius.”

Evie stared at his retreating form, wondering if she should have told him about the rouge smeared all over his mouth or the purple mark forming on his neck, but she decided against it because someone else telling him would be much funnier.

Kingsley croaked up at her.

Evie smiled. “All right, Kingsley. Let us go make you the prince you once were.”

Or nothing else would matter any longer. Not love, not loss, not grief, not anger. There would be no point.

Because if they couldn’t change Kingsley back and fulfill the prophecy?

Rennedawn as they knew it would be gone.





Chapter 76


Kingsley


The southern kingdom—once Alexander’s home—was as he remembered it. Very green, very hot, and very heavily guarded. It was why Trystan and the others had been crouched in a covered wagon for the past hour, watching the guards bejeweled in vibrant green armor with lilies painted over the front, as they neared a side entrance at the kingdom’s border.

Normally impenetrable, unless one had a magic wand and the slippers to match, used by someone who could wield it. “Is there a reason you two keep making eyes at each other?” Clare tapped her chin, looking between Evie and Trystan.