Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1) (81)
Even the door leading to my own chambers had been unsealed.
I wasn’t sure why that unsettled me.
Florian hadn’t wanted anyone hearing us fuck night and day. But even as the heat had simmered to a milder burn overnight, we’d still spent all day doing just that.
He’d unsealed the doors tonight, then, I surmised, and walked toward them. That meant he was comfortable with me leaving, and although that fact troubled me, I still donned the robe Florian had hung in the bathing room and did so.
I crept down the stairs with fears of what tomorrow might bring now that I didn’t need Hellebore’s vengeance sworn king to feed, bathe, and soothe my every aching need. I should have felt relieved. I should have been thinking about the address whispered to me by the stranger I hadn’t seen at the festival.
I should have been devising a way to get there to see if it would lead me to the only king who could answer the many questions still haunting me—my father.
The halls were silent save for the flower-shaped clock above the foyer entrance ticking toward midnight.
Which made the hushed conversation floating through the open doors to the manor all the more easier to hear.
“... finish this, Flor. Before she is taken and your precious advantage is lost.”
“Do not give me orders, Fume.”
I froze upon the landing before the last row of stairs, watching wisps of snow dance between the doors to melt upon the stone floor of the foyer.
“I’m not giving you orders. As your friend, I’m pleading with you to see reason,” Fume urged. “I know the twist of fate makes it difficult, but you’ve come this far...” His voice dropped, but I still heard what sounded like, “To back down will only make you look even more distracted.” A pause. “And therefore weak.”
“Difficult,” Florian said dryly.
Fume’s voice became a whisper I could barely hear. “Just say the word.”
Boots crunching over the pebbled drive sounded, shadows swaying over the stone of the entrance steps. My heart echoed in my ears as Florian barked something I missed beneath the screech of wind, and I strained to listen.
Then I heard him say, “No one touches her but me.”
Their conversation then changed to fighting in the barracks and stolen weaponry near the border. It quickly became evident that Florian had a lot of catching up to do regarding the running of his armies and kingdom after spending so much time tending to me.
There was no guilt for keeping him from his duties. There was only confusion as I forgot all about heading to the kitchen and quietly walked back upstairs instead.
I couldn’t make sense of what I’d overheard. Was Florian hesitant to marry me? To go forth with a celebration that would have all of Folkyn and beyond know it was official—he’d stolen and claimed his enemy’s daughter.
Or was it something else?
Something that seemed so unfathomable, I couldn’t even entertain the idea.
The only thing I knew with bone-deep certainty was that nothing was impossible where Florian’s meticulous plans and wrath were concerned. So though it caused every ounce of me to protest, I knew I had no choice.
Further punctuating my thoughts, the clock downstairs gave one last echoing tick as I quietly closed the doors to Florian’s chambers behind me.
It was time to make some plans of my own.
To sleep in my rooms would arouse suspicion when Florian assumed I was still asleep in his bed where he’d left me.
I failed to remember he’d catch my scent on the stairs and in the hall outside and know I was awake when he returned hours later.
The quiet sound of the doors clicking closed was akin to a drum pounding. “Where have you been, butterfly?”
I rolled to my back and stretched my arms over my head.
Florian stood by the chaise, unbuttoning his shirt. I chewed my lip and made a show of studying his broad chest. “Couldn’t sleep. I was hungry.”
Florian tossed the rippling black silk to the chaise, then unfastened his pants. “Need me?”
Incessantly, I thought but didn’t dare say. I smiled. “For food.”
He hummed, his gaze landing where the bedding had fallen from my breasts. “Not my cock, then?”
My smile grew, real this time, as he prowled toward me. He tore the blankets away to seize my ankle.
I squeaked, dragged to the side of the bed.
Just when I’d thought I’d gotten away with keeping my troubled thoughts to myself, he ran his hand down the inside of my leg. “Something upsets you.” Panic bleated, and his eyes shot to mine as he heard it—the increased tempo of my heart. “Butterfly,” he warned softly. “Tell me what has kept you awake.”
“You,” I whispered immediately, and honestly.
His hand stilled as he waited for more.
There was no point in not speaking of it, in hiding the truth when it might help me avoid admitting what I’d overheard earlier. “You’re my mate, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer, and he didn’t need to.
He pushed his cock into my body and gathered my legs to his chest, causing him to sink so deep that pain flared. I moaned as he grasped my thighs and spread them, my feet at his hard shoulders, and slowly rocked his hips.
His head turned for his mouth to press to my ankle, and the action, coupled with his unrelenting gaze...