A rank that allowed him to glare at the king impatiently as soon as he opened the door. As if he might pluck Florian from his seat to deliver him evidently urgent news.
The male looked at me with narrowed pale-blue eyes, his light-brown skin creasing as his lips curled a fraction.
I hadn’t the time to decide whether it was a sneer or a smirk. Florian left the carriage and landed upon the pebbled drive in one shockingly graceful leap.
I climbed out with the help of the driver, who held my hand with a stiffness that conveyed he’d rather not touch me. Perhaps because I was betrothed to the king. I didn’t care to analyze it when Florian barked at the blond male, “Fume.”
The warrior, Fume, who’d been walking toward a wagon parked on the other side of the drive, backtracked.
Florian said something in his ear, the two of them similar in height. Then Fume crossed the drive to a small group of his awaiting brethren while I slowly made my way to the doors Florian and his ire had blocked.
A stupid question, yet I asked it anyway. “Is everything okay?”
Florian ripped his gaze from the wagon trundling from the drive. I peered over my shoulder, the frosted breeze lashing at my cheek.
Hands, bloodied and large, gripped the bars of the small oval window in the wagon’s side, attempting to shake the grate free. A muffled bellow echoed in their wake.
“Go upstairs and get warm.” An order, iced and final. The king disappeared with flurries that left a vapor where he’d stood.
I stared through the darkness for moments that numbed my fingers and cheeks until the sound of nearing steps broke my trance. A patrolling guard approached, and I retreated indoors before being told to.
Though I tried, I failed to forget the sight of those bloodied hands while I warmed up in the bathing pool. My mind in tangles and my gut twisting, I sat in a fluffy navy-blue robe before the fire until I heard Florian enter his rooms.
I was walking down the hall before I could talk myself out of it.
One of the doors had been left cracked open. I knocked and waited, tempted to peer inside my soon-to-be husband’s private chambers.
“I’ve little time, butterfly,” he warned from within. “I’ll send for you tomorrow.”
Dismissed without even opening the doors.
Annoyed and undeniably offended, I spun on my heel to return to my rooms. But that twisting in my stomach intensified.
I turned back and pushed the cracked door all the way open, letting myself in.
Then stopped at the sight of Florian’s bare back.
Muscle twitched and shifted as he dropped a bloodstained shirt to the floor and then unbuckled his belt. “I told you—”
“What exactly does this feud with Baneberry mean?” I asked, done with being left to dwell in confusion. “I thought you were not yet at war.”
“There are many facets to war besides battle, sweet creature.” He dropped his belt, the leather hitting the stone with a resounding clank, and turned to face me. “And none are things I wish to speak of tonight.”
“Or ever,” I whispered, my eyes plastered to his chest—the scars and muscle and taut golden skin.
But it was the tattoo that stole my focus.
Such a thing was common within the middle lands, especially among humans, witches, and half breeds. It was rare to see them on a full-blooded faerie. Given the way we healed at a far faster rate than those with mortal blood, it would have taken countless sessions to become a permanent etching upon his body.
“You would do well to remember our agreement.”
My eyes dropped, then reluctantly rose from his tapered torso with my resolve. “If I am to be your wife, I should at least know what issues this kingdom faces.” I lifted my chin higher when his eyes darkened. “And why.”
“Should you now?” Eyes clasped on mine, he reached down to unfasten his pants.
I would not let him deter me or shift my focus. I kept my gaze locked with his even as my blood burned with hungering interest while he kicked his trousers aside.
“Come to me.”
I took a step forward, then stopped and scowled. “Florian, please.”
His lips quirked. “Two words I’ve never loved hearing more.” His expression hardened with his tone. “Come here, butterfly.”
Knowing it was perhaps the only way I might get what I wanted, and that I wanted to surrender, I did. I crossed the long strip of plush night-blue carpet to stand mere inches from him.
An arm shot out to wrap around my waist. My breath fled when he pulled me to his body, and I was forced to place my hands on his bare and incredibly warm chest.
He tipped my chin, removing my eyes from the name written in the old language the Fae did not share with others upon his chest. It was forbidden to speak or teach it in Crustle. I knew little about it, but I knew just enough from my tireless research to understand what the ink said.
Lilitha.
“All I loved was taken from me.” His thumb brushed my cheek, his eyes a never-ending darkness that stalked my flushed skin and parted lips. “My life irrevocably and unforgivably changed, and I’ve spent many years devising ways to rebalance the scales.”
“Vengeance,” I breathed.
Florian hummed. “I prefer to call it fair play.”
That nearly made me smile. The scent of the bloodied clothing behind him on the floor stopped it. My lashes lowered to his chest. “Your sister?”
His silence was confirmation.
I wanted him to tell me what had happened to her, all the while accepting that the princess was no longer here was all I needed to know. “You’ve been punishing Baneberry,” I guessed.
“I have been warning them of what’s to come, yes.”
Such few words, deliberately chosen for me to wonder over their every meaning. “You play games with me,” I said, the tension between us growing taut. “But I am not one of your chess pieces.”
His response drew my eyes to his. “I do not recall asking you to enter my chambers. In fact, I believe I advised against it.”
“That is not what I meant.” I swallowed the urge to apologize for my impatient tone. “Florian—”
His head lowered, the only warning I had before his mouth stole my own and erased what I’d been about to say.
He marched me backward to a bed twice the size of the giant one in my rooms. My legs hit the wooden frame, and I fell back onto the feather-filled bedding.
Florian loomed above me, dark hair and fever-bright eyes.
My heart swooped when he knocked my knees open with one of his, and his naked body dropped to press against mine. He groaned when his cock encountered bare skin beneath my robe, the flare of his eyes telling me he hadn’t expected it. “Fuck.”
He kissed me before I could find the strength to protest about what was surely going to happen.
Hot, wet, and toe-curling—his tongue and lips devoured mine with a hunger I’d yet to receive from him. Then he opened my robe and cursed at the sight of my breasts. My hands curled, lost in the thick gray bedding, as he gifted each breast the adoring heat of his mouth.
His hips rose, taking the heavy warmth of his cock that had nestled perfectly over my core and leaving me cold.
Until his finger slid through me and his mouth trailed a path over my stomach.
He stilled at what he found. “I see I have not been tending to your needs very well.”