She doesn’t know what kind of fire she’s playing with. But I do, and I can give her a taste of what she wants even if I can’t give her everything.
As easily as that, I take my first step down a descent into damnation.
Briar
With shaking hands, I tear out the laces Killian sliced open and toss them into the fire.
My body isn’t built to handle this many conflicting emotions all at once. I want to throttle the prince, which is the strongest thing I’ve felt for him since we met.
But even more than the helpless rage that consumes me, I’m desperate to finish what we started in the library. I want to take out my fear and anger on him. Batter him, knock him down, and take him inside me with a degree of desperation that is, frankly, alarming. I never thought violence was in my nature until I met that surly knight.
Killian could handle anything I threw at him. He makes it safe for me to feel these things—or would, if he hadn’t locked me inside my room and run off.
I need an outlet.
Keeping one eye on the door lest my maids return at an inopportune moment, I throw myself onto the bed, slip one hand between my thighs and rub the nub at the apex of my sex frantically, imagining it’s his rough fingers touching me there. A little lower, I brush the stupid barrier of my maidenhood.
I picture him breaking it. Shoving that huge appendage of his inside me without a hint of gentleness. A gasp bursts past my lips, my spine stiffens, and I come. Tiny aftershocks quake up my abdomen and down my legs, but I am nowhere close to satisfied. This pallid imitation of Killian’s rough touch isn’t what Ineed.
What I need is a release so forceful that it blots out my seething fury and sense of loss. I need someone powerful enough to root me in time.
Alistair isn’t that man.
I hate what Killian said, though it’s true. I am a woman, and therefore, I am property. Nothing is my own. Not even my life.
Somehow, I manage to doze off. I’m awakened from a restless nap by my maids, who bring in a tray laden with food.
“It’s good you rested, my lady. Tonight’s ball will be tiring and it will run late.”
“I’m not hungry right now.” I wave away the food. “Besides, tonight is a banquet.”
“For everyone except you, Princess. You will be on display. Now eat.”
I pick at the food while they fuss over my hair. I’m washed and perfumed—rose scented, naturally—then trussed into a fabric column of stiff boning. I can’t bend at the waist, only tip forward from the hips up. It’s awkward, but I see why they chose this torture device when they drape the gown over me.
Layers and layers of pink tulle and red satin give the effect of a rose in full bloom. The bodice is an innocent creamy white with petal decorations. The ensemble is both gorgeous and completely the opposite of my preference.
In my heart, I’m still a farmer’s daughter, despite the tiara pinned to my hair proclaiming me a princess.
Sighing inwardly, I exit my chamber and am struck with an electric jolt by the sight of Killian waiting for me. My lips curve upward.
His curve downward. His eyes turn to slate, though he doesn’t break eye contact.
Our game is back on. No rules. Winner takes all.
I hold his gaze for a moment and lift my chin. Were it possible to straighten further in this corset, I would, but my posture is already as perfect as can be.
“You look very handsome, Sir Ironheart.”
He offers no compliment in return. The fire in his gaze and the stiffness in his gait are tribute enough.
“Your family is anxious to meet you. They regret missing your presentation ceremony this morning.”
“Did they say why?”
“Delayed by a monster attack. All members of the duke’s family survived, fortunately. I am to bring you to them for a private meeting. Prince Alistair is with them now.”
He falls into step beside me.
