Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (38)

We’d reached the drive to the stables before I’d wholly caught my breath and regained the use of my brain. “When will you let me tend to you?”

Florian climbed down from Bennington, then helped me do the same. “You already do,” he said, a touch hoarse.

I stared up at him, confused by his meaning.

He grinned and stroked a curled finger beneath my chin, his head lowering and his lips molding tight to mine. He seemed to breathe me in, his mouth bruising and unmoving, the hand at my hip squeezing.

Then he broke away with sudden and swift force. He gave Bennington to the approaching stable hand and stalked toward the manor.





Memories of the day kept me restless and far from sleep.

Surrendering to failure, I decided to return my tea tray to the kitchen for something to do.

The stone walls might have kept the winter chill at bay, but they emanated a strange ice all the same. As though they watched, silent and all-knowing after providing refuge for generations of Hellebore royals.

The eerie yet somewhat comforting feeling stalked my quiet journey downstairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, I paused when I heard male voices floating between the cracked open door of a room to the left of the foyer.

“Hiding in the town of Jenmin, supposedly awaiting orders.”

“How many?” Florian asked.

“Amber reported hearing of twelve, which means likely double that.”

Florian scoffed. “Ignore them and press forward for more noise.”

“The more we make, the more he seems to retreat.” A pause before the other male said, “To continue with these direct and open attacks when he’s bitten his tongue for so long is concerning, Flor.”

The familiarity between the two struck me with surprise. Whoever this male was, he was not merely a warrior or general, but perhaps a friend, being that Florian did not protest the improper addressing.

There was no response from Florian.

His friend added, “Especially now that he has more reason to...” The male stopped abruptly.

As did my heart when the door creaked with the touch of a crisp breeze that opened it farther.

“Come here, butterfly.”

Shit.

I looked down at the tea tray gleaming with firelight from the sconces and inwardly berated myself with a sigh.

The ticking of the clock above the foyer echoed in the silence.

There was a slight shake to my hands, probably from being caught eavesdropping. It caused a rattle as I set the tray upon the hall table next to a vase of pure gold awaiting fresh wildflowers that would come with morning.

Not much bigger than Rolina’s room in the apartment, the king’s study was surprisingly plain.

And intimidatingly dark.

The sconces were unlit, as if this meeting had not been planned or it was not meant to drag on given the hour. The only light to guide my hesitant steps was provided by the moon aglow in the two windows with drawn drapes beyond an oversized desk made of steel and oak.

Maps lined the expanse of one wall. It was too dark to see what locations had been marked with red wax.

Florian reclined in a high-back and winged leather chair, his coat open and his hair mussed.

He looked up from what appeared to be a miniature ice sculpture he’d been carving with a small dagger. He twirled the weapon between his fingers as he smirked, then set it down next to a stack of neatly piled documents. “It is unwise to listen in on conversations you were not invited to join, sweet creature.”

I nodded, feeling his friend’s gaze press upon me like an itch.

Florian carefully placed the sculpture next to the dagger. “And even more so to roam the halls at such a late hour.”

Though those words should’ve further intimidated, they didn’t. The gentle threat caressed my skin as though he’d brushed his fingers over it.

I half wondered if he’d introduce me to his friend, of whom I assumed was in fact his general, or if one of us would be dismissed.

Florian merely ordered, “Come to me.”

I stepped forward onto a woolen rug and stopped between the two chairs facing his desk—one of which was occupied by the male. All I saw was a flash of bright eyes and white-blond hair and bulky boots crossed at the ankles. He said nothing, but his presence made it hard to shake the tension from my bones that had lingered since being caught loitering and listening.

Florian’s gaze narrowed as if sensing as much, though it did not leave me. “Closer.” I crossed to the desk, and the king reclined more in his chair with a twitch to his lips. “Closer, butterfly.”

Heat began to bloom in my neck and cheeks. I was thankful for the darkness as I rounded the desk to stand directly next to Florian.

He patted the wood. “Closer.”

Swallowing, I made to look at the silent male seated across from us.

Florian tutted.

I did as requested, my silk nightgown protesting when I pushed up onto the desk.

“Closer,” he said again, and this time, he did not wait.

I was pulled to sit right in front of him, his hands remaining on my thighs. His thumbs rubbed, shifting the silk over my skin. A softness that grazed.

Florian crooked his finger. “Closer.”

I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk as if it would help my heart cease racing.

The king stroked his knuckles over my cheek, his searching eyes a luminous light in the dark. “Kiss me.”