A vein popped at his temple, his fingers flexing at his side. “Trysts. Your new husband would loathe knowing it’s taken me no time at all learning the nuances of your body—how to soak you without laying a finger on you—in a way that would take him the entirety of his short, miserable lifetime.”
The wave of heat that hit her nearly caused her knees to buckle. “Just hours ago, you were singing his praises in front of everyone. Not so fond of Maximilian at the thought of me riding him, are you?”
Garin closed his eyes, struggling to compose himself. “He is a fine leader and excellent commander. He will make a proper husband.”
“But is he a good man? Will he make an excellent lover? It’s anyone’s guess.” She reveled in Garin’s envy, trailing the scalpel teasingly along her skin. “I suppose I could always keep you around for that once I let him believe he’s deflowered me.”
“Bleed yourself already.”
Her arm yanked of its own accord, the prick of pain at the base of her palm registering belatedly. She’d missed her wrist. Scowling, Lilac dropped the scalpel and hovered her palm over the cup of milk.
Together, they watched the red stain the cream in blotches. Red flowers in the snow.
“You’re just afraid of what you’ll lose,” she whispered, hand stinging, “when I willingly follow through with what you wanted all along. You didn’t consider how jealous this would make you.”
“You are my thrall. Iwantedthis for you, your kingdom’s safety and security above all else. I lose nothing, not when you are mine.” He looked down at his hands. “You act as if you had a choice.”
There was scorn in the undercurrent of his words; Lilac bitterly wondered if Garin had ever truly thought her marriage through. If it had even crossed his mind that their marriage might sentence Maximilian to a fate worse than death by Garin’s own hand because of his very nature. And what he felt.
Lilac had seen him angry. She couldn’t imagine what his jealousy might look like. Maybe, there was a part of her deep down, that yearned to find out.
“I do have a choice.” She brought her face inches from his, stroking his cheek with her bleeding hand and leaving a small smear of herself on him. Lilac dragged her thumb over his pursed lips, just as Kestrel once had. “And that choice is Maximilian.Hewill be my husband. From now on, you will not take of me what I willingly give to him.”
Garin’s jaw tensed, eyes filled with disdain. He remained still as Lilac brushed her mouth against his—slid her tongue along his bottom lip, tasting her own blood. She trailed her free hand up his bloodstained thigh, reveling in how tight the front of his trousers had grown.
He only spoke when her fingertips graced the outline of his erection, irritation and threatening desire sweeping his expression. “You wouldn’t want the emperor knowing you’ve come all overmycock, that I’ve had my hands tangled in your mouth and hair. Especially while you’ve been bleeding.” He shook his head, his face brightening a bit. “The thought might drive him to madness. To throw himself onto a blade, or off a cliff.”
“Oh?” Lilac straightened, her lower back spasming. “Is that what craving me makes you want to do?”
His glare up at her was a command in itself. His irresistible cologne filled the room, beckoning her. Lilac gasped when her muscles tugged her back toward him; there was no fighting it.
She braced her hands on his shoulders, but before she could climb into his lap, Garin’s head snapped to the door—and his grip on her will vanished.
Hastily, Lilac pushed off of him and lunged for another cloth, mopped the mess she’d made on his face, then wrapped it twice around the crook ofGarin’s elbow, tying it into a tight knot. The milk in the mug had turned an alarming shade of pink; she picked it up and shoved it at Garin, then pressed a piece of bread into his palm. Lilac held her bleeding hand against the fabric of her dress and yanked the curtains open just as the mechanical sound of the door unlocking came.
Madame Kemble appeared in the doorway. Her scrutinous gaze fell upon Lilac sitting on the chair—and Garin sipping his milk and munching on a piece of bread.
“Did you bloodlet him for me, Your Majesty?” Kemble said, sounding startled.
“I instructed her,” Garin replied through a mouthful.
Lilac expected him to further his lie, to mention that his parents were herbalists and medics. But he continued chewing, saying nothing more.
Her gaze flitted between the both of them, landing last on Lilac. “I wanted to come by to check on you. Make sure you were still breathing.”
“She at least hasn’t poisoned me further.” Garin offered a feeble smile. “I’m in good hands.”
Kemble squinted. Lilac wondered if the nurse also sensed what she could, if she could smell the heady mixture of smoke and wood hyacinths hanging thickly in the air.
Whatever Kemble sensed, she decided against mentioning. “I’ll be back,” she muttered, face bright pink.
She closed and locked the door.
Breathing hard, they sat in silence. Lilac kept the pressure on her hand until the bleeding stopped. Smothering her desire proved more difficult now that they weren’t egging each other on. She leaned back into her chair, willing the aching tenderness in her abdomen to subside.
Garin took his time with the rest of his meal, eating with his eyes softly shut, moving on to the biscuits when he finished his bread. Lilac picked at her nails, watching the way he savored each bite—his tongue sweeping his lips, the bob of his throat. The inhuman swiftness of his large hands that emerged whenever he wasn’t masking his true nature.
Garin swallowed the last of it, swigging the rest of his blood-infused milk and finally glancing up at her appreciatively. “Thank you.”
