“See?” he murmured in my ear. “Look at that. You’re a natural.”
“I’m just stubborn,” I replied. “Don’t like to pass up a challenge.”
He chuckled, a low, breathy sound. “Good. If you’re going to play the game, can’t quit just when it starts to get interesting.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, too sweetly.
Raihn pulled away just enough to raise a skeptical brow at me, just as he launched me into a twirl, caught me, dipped me. When I arched my back, a shiver rippled up my spine as his fingertips traced the shape of my Mark—just brushing the swell of my breasts.
“Oh? Then what’s this?” he murmured.
He straightened, sending me deeper into his embrace. The warmth and size of his body enveloped mine. The rhythm of the music had slowly begun to accelerate, mimicking the rush of a seduction. Maybe it was the pace of it, and the matching cadence of our steps, that reduced the rest of the ballroom to nothing more than inconsequential blurs, cocooning us together.
Maybe.
I wished he’d picked a different song.
“The mantle was uncomfortable,” I said. “I decided not to wear it.”
His lips curled. “You’re such a shit liar, princess.”
Another dip. I returned from it viciously, like a counter to a strike. It turned out the two of us did know how to move together, after all. Our footsteps matched each other’s like blades, a mirror to countless sparring sessions.
“Maybe I’m tired of hiding,” I said.
“Some kings in my position might call that a threat.”
The beat grew faster, faster. What had begun as slow and seductive now was the racing heart of the moments before a kiss. When he pulled me back to him, the full length of my torso pressed to his, our bodies battling to keep up with each other’s next step.
I’d been physically close to Raihn since the wedding. More than I’d wanted to—every time we sparred, every time we flew together. And yet it was this dance, fully clothed, that felt so… sexual. Like the push and pull of the night we had been together, our flesh fighting for dominance, finding agonizing pleasure in every defeat or victory.
And when he watched me now, I felt it just as I had then. Like nothing in his centuries of existence mattered more than making sure he wrung every shred of pleasure from me.
Another spin. Another violent crash into his arms, too fast to stop myself, too fast to keep our noses from nearly touching. I felt the slight, silent shudder in his exhale and wondered if it was from exertion. Felt the brush of hardness against my lower stomach and knew it wasn’t.
“A threat?” I said. “Could’ve sworn you liked the dress.”
Dip. This time he lowered with me, forcing my body to arch against his.
“Oh, I do,” he murmured. “The dress is an act of war. But you’ve always looked fucking fantastic in blood.”
His mouth brushed the angle of my jaw as we straightened. My entire being responded to that brief touch, awareness limiting to skin-against-skin.
“You don’t go into battle without armor,” I said. “This is all just another trial, right? Just as much of a fight as the Kejari.”
He chuckled, scarlet eyes sparkling.
“Damn right it is. So who’s the enemy?”
I laughed, short and rough with effort, as he launched me into another series of steps. Our dance had gotten vicious now, quick, like a battle gone brutal.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I tilted my head up to whisper into his ear. “Everyone is the enemy. That’s what’s funny.”
“I’ve seen you survive worse odds.”
The force of the next spin flung me against him, the speed of the music forcing me to keep up. The pace was frantic, exhausting, but I wasn’t about to surrender.
His fingers played at that little dip in my spine, right where my skin met the fabric, as if trying to stop himself from sliding beneath it. I could feel it in the strain of his muscles that I knew better than to think was from exertion alone—no, Raihn was strong. Moving was nothing for him.
Holding himself back, though? That was hard.
And worst of all, I knew he sensed it in me, too. The same desire that he’d brought to the surface of my skin the night he had touched my wings, and the night I had tasted his blood.
And that, I knew, was what drove him wildest of all, earning the lust in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils.
“So should I be afraid?” he murmured, the smile fading on his lips. “Are you going to kill me, princess?”