Gods, that was such a silly thought, but that’s what I felt. I didn’t understand how it could feel right. It shouldn’t, but it did, and I soaked it all in, committing every second of it to memory.
Because I had never felt any of this before.
And I had no idea when I would feel it again.
I didn’t attempt to get past his shields, and that was, well, not good. I could’ve tried again, especially while we both were so quiet, but doing so felt as if it would . . . taint this.
Whatever this was— which was nothing, absolutely nothing.
I couldn’t linger, though. Grady had to be beside himself with worry, and I . . . I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to tell Claude, because what few answers I’d gained were vague at best. All I could tell him was who this Hyhborn prince was and what I already knew.
“Na’laa?”
“Hmm,” I murmured.
“I’m never wrong.”
It took me a moment to get what he was referencing. When I did, a chill slithered down my spine. Opening my eyes, I lifted my head and started to pull back. His embrace held firm. I gained only a scant inch or two of separation. My gaze met his. The stars were gone from his eyes. The colors had slowed until they were blots of green, blue, and brown. Nothing could be gained from the striking angles of his face.
I gathered up all that bravado it had taken to enter the chambers, sensing that now was not the time to finally feel the terror I should’ve felt from the moment we crossed paths in the gardens the night before. “Besides the fact that the idea that anyone, Hyhborn or not, can never be wrong seems implausible to me, I’m not exactly sure what you’re referencing.”
His lips curved, but the smile was tight and cool. “You said you were sent to service me, correct?”
I nodded.
One of his hands slid up my back, tangling in my hair. “I don’t think that was the only reason you were sent to me.”
The tips of my fingers pressed into the hard flesh of his shoulders. “I— ”
“While I find your little lies and half-truths to be strangely amusing, this is not one of those moments.” His fingers found their way to the nape of my neck and stayed. “Trust me when I say it would be very, very unwise to do so.”
CHAPTER 17
I tensed, every part of my being focusing on the feel of his hand at my neck. He put no pressure there, but the weight of his hand was warning enough.
The arm still around my waist tightened. Our chests were flush once more as he drew my body against his. I gasped, feeling him against my core. He was still hard. A pounding pulse of sharp desire renewed a throbbing ache, shocking me, because now was so not the time to be feeling any of that.
Prince Thorne’s smile lost some of its coldness. “Please don’t lie, Calista.”
Please.
That word again. My name. Hearing both was unnerving. I didn’t think “please” was something he often said, and it made me want to be truthful, but even if he hadn’t said it, I was smart enough to know that lying now would likely end very badly for me.
Telling the truth was also likely to end badly. I knew Claude wouldn’t send me away, but he could become angry enough that he banished Grady from the manor— from Archwood. But if I lied now, and the Prince reacted in anger? If I screamed and Grady came in? He wouldn’t survive going toe-to-toe with the Prince.
So, it was a no-win situation, except that lying ended in violence, and the truth— or at least a part of it— ended in the loss of security and, at the least, the sense of safety.
I swallowed, knowing I couldn’t endanger Grady. “The Baron was . . . he is worried about your unexpected appearance.”
“Does he have a reason to worry?” Prince Thorne asked.
“He’s apparently behind on his quarterly tithes,” I shared, stomach churning. “He feared that you were sent by the King to collect them.”
His head tilted slightly. “Your baron saw me. Do I look like someone the King would send to collect tithes?”
“No.” I almost laughed, but nothing about this was funny. “But I also don’t think the Baron was in the . . . um, right frame of mind at the moment to recognize who you were.”
“That’s vastly understated.” His fingers began to move at my neck, pressing into the taut muscles there. “He was as high as the mountains of my Court.”
“True,” I whispered.
“So, he sent you to ferret out why I was here,” he surmised. “Instead of waiting till the morning, as I advised?”