“Wouldn’t it beunwiseof us to risk being here without even attempting to get answers?”
Her eyes lit up, brighter than that damn dress. “What did you have in mind?”
“Do you think this palace has a library?”
“Brystin sets me on edge,”Mila admitted, voice so low I could barely make it out as we strolled through the wide palace corridors.
Created this. Lancaster and Mora had created this entire structure, from the marble beneath our feet to the rich tapestries draped along the walls to every last candle.
“They all do,” I agreed, and quirked my head to the left. “Let’s try this way.” We seemed to be traveling into the depths of the building.
“They do,” Mila said, a step in front of me. Her long white braid swayed down her back, the soft, embroidered fabric of the fae gown draping across her hips and leaving little to the imagination. “But Lancaster and Mora seem easier to understand. They’re here for their power. How they ended up here, where the rest of their family is, I don’t know. But at least that makes sense.”
I pulled my eyes away from her ass long enough to process what she’d said. “Did you hear what Brystin was saying on the way to dinner? About his tracking andassignments?” Bile built in the back of my throat.
“I did.” Mila’s eyes widened with concern. “Tracking power sounds dangerous. We need to be careful around him.”
I nodded. It wasn’t the implication that many of his assignments involved dismembering enemies, the memory of my own torture, or even Mila’s torture, that haunted me. It was the twisted grin on the male’s face as he’d said it—the way he’d seemed willing to do anything for the scent of blood in the air. For thefunof wreaking havoc.
That unsettling thought followed us as we continued winding through the palace. We passed a few pairs of fae, some carting linens or baskets of food and casting us wary looks, but not a single one stopped us.
“They don’t seem to care that we’re here,” Mila observed, as a female with long black hair braided in a crown around her head kept walking, the pockets of her apron weighed down.
“Probably because we’re being watched,” I muttered. “They’ve likely been told not to engage unless we give them a reason, but to trail us.” And without thinking, I slipped my hand around Mila’s waist, turning her back to the wall, right up against a heavy tapestry.
She blinked up at me. “Yes?” But she bit her bottom lip, a sultry look clouding her eyes.
Dipping my head, I whispered in her ear, “Let’s give them a reason.”
Her hands curled against my chest, slipping under the lapels of the fae jacket to clutch my tunic as she exhaled. A decadent, breathy sound that had my cock aching. Maybe this was a bad idea.
She arched her back slightly, her breasts pressing into me, and my skin felt tight.
This was definitely a bad idea.
Placing one hand beside her head, I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and brought my lips to hers. I kissed her, slowly and indulgently, my tongue stroking against hers.
Angels, I wanted her. More than teasing kisses, more than a show to weed out who was watching us—I wanted every piece.
My fingers dug into her hair, tilting her head back, and a soft moan hummed up her throat, begging me to hurry my pace.
How could I ignore a request?
I dropped my other hand to her ass, pulling her tighter against me, and the reins on my control were ready to snap when she writhed?—
“Excuse me?” My head snapped up at the voice. The fae female with the braided coronet stood not two feet away, eyes wide. “May I help you with something?”
I flashed her a lethal look that saidwhy are you interrupting? But Mila’s cheeks flushed, and she falsely stuttered, “Oh, we-we’re sorry. We were, um, looking for the library. But we seem to be lost.”
The lustful daze in her eyes covered the lie nicely. Lost, distracted, hoping to lure out whoever was assigned to follow us when they thought us a pair of ambling warriors. Any excuse would work.
The fae assessed us, eyes shrewd. “Were you given permission?”
“Yes,” we both answered.
Mila looked up at me, her grin sending my heart pounding, and I wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her away from the wall with her back pressed to my front. The female tracked each movement, watched closely as my fingers tightened on Mila’s hip, massaging the silk. Her expression softened at whatever she saw between us, believing us nothing more than lust-drunk young warriors.
Apparently she forgot warriors were entirely capable of lying.
