Then he brought his lips to mine, sealing our mouths together, and something dark and frenzied flourished within my body. It was like a spell overtook me, and every inch of my skin burned with the need to be touched by him. My hands skimmed over his chest and into his hair, and when he groaned, I rewarded him by opening my mouth so he could taste me. As our tongues twined and slid together, he took me by surprise, driving me into my vanity, my back bowed beneath him as he devoured, my hands pressing into his hard muscles, his erection grinding into the softness of my heat. I found myself gasping at the feel of him between my legs, and as my hips moved against his, I knew I’d give anything to know what it would be like to have him inside me.
“Say that aloud to me,” he growled against my lips, and as he spoke, I froze. His face was inches from mine, his white-rimmed eyes holding my gaze.
“What?” I asked, breathing hard.
The corners of his lips lifted. “You want me inside you,” he said. “Say it aloud.”
I shoved against him, and to my surprise, he stepped away.
“You can read minds?” I asked. I still couldn’t catch my breath, and I hated that because it was a reminder of how I’d let him take advantage of me.
“You welcomed me with open”—his eyes drifted down my body and then back up—“arms.”
“Get out of my head!”
I pushed him again, but he grasped my wrists and pulled me flush against him.
“Do not be ashamed by your thoughts, Sparrow. If it’s any comfort, I wish to know the same thing.”
I narrowed my eyes at the sudden use of a nickname I had not approved and jerked in his grasp, but he held me tighter.
“Your hair is beautiful.”
My brows knitted together. “What?”
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized the tight coil Nadia had worked so long to style had sprung free. I tore myself from him, staggering back. His stare pinned me, dark and lustful.
“At least we can be sure of one thing, Sparrow.”
“And what is that?” I asked, seething. I hated him for how he’d made me feel and that he knew it.
“We both know what we have to look forward to tonight.” Then, as if he thought I could not guess what he was implying, he added, “When we consummate our marriage.”
He had no idea we would not even get that far. It was my turn to smirk.
“I think you should leave, King Adrian,” I said and brought a hand to my hair. “I must restore my appearance.”
His eyes glittered darkly.
“Of course, my queen,” he said and bowed.
When he left the room, it took everything in my power to remain standing.
I had just finished pulling half my hair back, leaving the rest to curl down my back, when my father arrived, dressed in royal blue. The contrast between us was stark, our colors clashing. He looked grim today, and the lines around his mouth seemed deeper.
“Father,” I said, rising to my feet. I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.
“My Issi,” he said, and as we parted, he brushed a curl off my shoulder. “You look beautiful.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
His compliment was genuine, but I could feel the strangeness between us. We were both thinking the same thing—I should not look so beautiful for him.
“I brought you something,” he said and held up a small, rectangle package. I took it and sat on the bench in front of the mirror before tearing away the beige paper to reveal a carved wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. It reminded me of the things my mother kept from her homeland.
“Open it,” my father encouraged, and when I did, a pure lullaby chimed.
“A music box,” I whispered.
“Yes. I had it made for your birthday…but since you will not be here, I thought it a fitting gift for today. The song is one your mother would hum before you were born.”
My eyes watered. “What is the song?”
“I do not know the name,” he said. “Only a few words.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke the lines:
“Moon above and earth below,
Bring my love stars that glow.
Far past midnight, shadows sneak;
Bring my love dreams that speak.”
His voice trailed off, but the music continued, and when it died, I hugged the box to my chest, my vision blurred by tears.
“I intended this day to be happier,” my father said.
I looked at him and reached for his hand—the skin was thin and spotted.
“I’ll be all right, Papa.”