“Ohh… yes. Castien, ohh… That was much better than work.” The husky purr of her voice reminded him where they were.
He had fucked the Queen on a desk. Her back probably ached. Her clothes were still on. So were most of his. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so impatient to have a woman. He lifted his head and chuckled.
She smiled expectantly.
Grinning, he said, “I've finally found something you're terrible at. Begging. We'll work on that.”
She twisted her wrists out of his hands and pulled his head down. Her claws caressed his neck. In just a few seconds, she suddenly felt far more in control.
It was strangely comforting.
He kissed her gently. The Queen. For a brief moment, she had given him control, but she was always the Queen. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed.
Her fingers ran through his hair. “Tell me what you're thinking.”
He luxuriated in the soothing sensation. “I’m not good enough for you.”
Her voice gained a sharp, sardonic edge. “And how much blood do you have on your hands?”
Too much. But compared to her? That would sound like a condemnation.
He leaned back and pulled her dress past her hips. “You do what you must. You always do.”
She thinks she’s a monster.
That was what Octavius had said.
Today was about her.
Cupping her cheek, he stared into her eyes. “You are not cruel, Anais. You are not cold and harsh.”
The distance returned. “Cas–”
“Let me finish.”
She shut her mouth.
“I know you well enough now. You care too much. You love easily, quickly, deeply. Me, your Escorts, the children – this haven you protect is what you wish the world to be. That's not cold.”
“So I've managed to save a corner of my soul.”
This conversation deserved pants. He went to find them.
She slipped off the desk. “Castien–”
“I'm not finished.” Smoothing his shirt, he turned to find her behind her desk. “You play the court’s game like you play chess – every move carefully considered, every day, every life, every lie weighed against the harsh reality of our world. That’s not cruel.”
Her eyes dropped to her claws spread on the desk. He covered her hands with his.
“And you make mistakes. That’s human. But even when you let fear and anger drive your decisions, love is at the core of everything you do. Am I wrong?”
Wisps of hair brushed her cheeks as she silently contemplated his hands. There was so much more he wanted to say, so much that set her apart from the court. It was obvious that she was nothing like them.
Sliding her hands out from beneath his, she opened a drawer and brought out a wooden box. Carved into the surface were delicate vines surrounding an elaborate rose. She opened it.
He let her lift his hand and slip a golden bracelet onto his wrist. Anais raised her head. “Do I need to ask again? Castien.”
A fond, wistful smile curved her lips as she fitted him with the other bracelet.
