“Is what a mistake?”
Lips gently parted, my veins still sizzling with warmth, I stared at him. In the weeks after signing my contract, I’d never considered the question. I’d been willing to marry him just togain my freedom. In those first months at the castle, my hatred had shielded me from anything that might root in my heart. The lure of him. His golden eyes and sweet scent, the crescent scar on his lip and dark stubble across his jaw. The rasp of his voice, the way I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The callouses embellished in his palm, rough and yet soft when our hands crossed paths by accident.
Mihauna, I must have truly despised him to not fall under the weight of his spell. But I no longer hated Kye. Hatred had kept my head above treacherous waves for months, guiding me to shore. Hatred was a familiar course, a current in the water I knew like the back of my hand, beckoning me along like a compass. I’d promised myself I’d kill him on my wedding night—only to find he’d never even betrayed me.
And what was once a simple, recognizable loathing had blurred, my clear current vanishing altogether. I didn’t know the way to shore. Kye had ripped me off course and into uncharted territory.
Heat crackled inside me. We sat inches apart on our bedrolls, knees joined, his hand over mine, and a slow fire billowed between us. He waited for me to answer him, but I forgot what I’d said. All I heard was the intoxicating murmur of his voice, smooth and rough all at once.
You’remywife.
I’d be lying if I said the words he’d once uttered to Burian before killing the pirate hadn’t chimed softly in my head in the weeks since our escape. But neither of us mentioned our wedding. Nor the fact that neither of us had wanted it. That we’d each thought we’d been trapped by the other as Thaan watched across the palace court, playing us both for fools.
Marry Kye. Fight in the war. Murder Hadrian.
My mind stuttered on the last thought. Hadrian. And the oath I’d made to kill him.
Kye might forgive me for marrying him. For his stolen memories; for robbing him of his will to choose. But I was certain he’d never forgive me for murdering his brother. For being the sole reason he inherited a throne he despised. A fate he was desperate to escape the day we met.
And yet, it was in my blood. I’d taken a vow. I had to kill Hadrian.
Or I had to die.
He’d never forgive me.
I pulled my eyes up to meet his, my own question answered. Thiswasa mistake. I shouldn’t be touching him. Shouldn’t lean into his words, his body, every time I glanced his way. My current of hatred had washed away, but the sea was rife with other currents. I still had Thaan.Hewas what I should be thinking about. Thaan and the Breath of Safiro, the stone that, according to Selena’s diary, held my freedom.
The back of my throat hardened to ashy coal, and I gulped it down. Moisture glazed over my vision as my hand dropped away from his, trickling over the blades of grass between us. I sifted them through my fingertips as I thought of what to say, words tumbling around in my head, each one too much to give, and each one not enough.
He waited patiently, though his shoulders sagged. “Is what a mistake, Leihani?”
“This. Us,” I whispered, unable to meet Kye’s eyes. “I think it might be.” The man before me analyzed my words in burning silence, air striking me in a soft blow as he exhaled into the dusky wind. The pit of my stomach grew black and hollow at my own words. He finally sank into his bedroll, shifting to view the canvas of stars over our heads through the trees, and I heard him swallow.
Without warning, I ached to touch him. To take it back. To tell him it was a lie. That lying was all I had, because I was sure he’dnever find peace with the vow I’d made, but I was almost just as sure I might never find it without him.
My arm stretched between us, finding the smooth curve of his shoulder, and my fingertips drifted over it. Warm, firm, familiar, the feeling of him lit embers under my skin, dazzling and bright. He turned his head, golden gaze seeking mine, and the view of him nestled over his bedroll, lashes thick and eyes shining, sent a punch to my gut.
“What is it you want, Leihani?” he asked, his voice suddenly full and low andrough.
You’remywife.
I licked my lips. Closed my eyes. Gathered my courage. All of it. Every drop I had.
“I wantyou.”
23
Maren
Kye gazed at me in surprise, scoring over my face, reading me with uncertainty.
“I want you,” I said again. Firmer, stronger. His eyes fell again to my lips, body taut as a string. The sultry scent of him cascaded through the wind, brushing across my cheeks, and my own hunger rose its head to seek it out. The primal urge to meet his body with mine stole through the air. To strip him bare of clothes and everything else, to crack him open and slip through his walls, a fortress of glass and iron as tall as Laurier Palace.
“Ineedyou,” I said, my resolve hardening even more. “Please.”
Kye hesitated for only a moment—the briefest flicker of doubt—but something in my voice shook his conviction, slanting his eyes to mine, and then he sank over me in a single motion. I stretched to meet him, hands swerving down the flares and knots of his arms as his mouth loomed hot over mine.
He wrapped his fingers around the back of my skull, pinning me to his open jaw, swallowing me in a rush of breath and the soul-wrenching glide of his tongue. Fire lit low in my belly, waking something that had slept within me since the day we’dbeen taken from the beach at Cynthus Castle. It roused so fiercely I wondered whether it had even slept, or if it had simply lurked in the shadows of my blood. Waiting for the moment to snap my veins back to life. Slow, sweet, predatory. Whatever it was, it threw my weight into him, driving my hands under the hem of his shirt and ripping it over his head, seeking firm muscle as they traveled up his abdomen to his chest, hunting for both warmth and luscious weight.
