Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

He turns back to the guards, who seem to have made his shit list. “You’re lucky I’m not an enemy. You’re lucky my king has signed an alliance with yours. Because you’re both incompetent idiots who have no business guarding her,” Rip growls, his voice the low boil of a brewing anger, and that anger seems to stoke my flushed skin, makes my chest tighten. “Leave, before I tell your king how you behaved.”

The guards gape. “But the favored—”

“I will walk her to her rooms, and she’ll be far more protected by me. Unlike you two, I would never back up if a threat approached.”

My stomach does a flip, and a surge of emotions rises in me. I should be irritated that he’s stepping in when it’s none of his business, but instead, I’m...relieved. I’m relieved that he’s here, relieved that he’s defending me in his own way. Relieved that he’s Rip.

“Commander—”

“If King Midas saw how useless you were just now, he would bolt your arms to golden beams. But I’ll let you in on a secret.” He leans in close to their faces, the spikes on his arms like talons ready to strike, while the scales on his cheeks glint beneath the waning light. “I’d punish you far, far worse.”

I hear one of the guards gulp.

“Now go the fuck away.” He jerks his chin up, and that’s all it takes. The guard with the key thrusts it at Rip before the two of them turn and flee like their feet are on fire, steps rushing off until the noise fades completely.

I’m left alone with Rip, and as we regard one another, time seems to go still, flattening out between us like an iced-over lake.

I swallow, and his eyes trace down my throat, the skin at my neck flushing as if I can feel his gaze like the drag of a nail. Why does it all of a sudden seem as if my heart is a fawn picking her head up from behind a leafless shrub? Like I’m prey already entangled, not by teeth or claws, but by spikes. By the thorns hidden in the twist of the brambles I so willingly walked toward, my heart’s blood coating each barb.

There’s no mistaking it. Right now, at my weakest and my most vulnerable, the truth lies bare, like a maiden stripped down to nothing.

No matter how many times I try to lie to myself, no matter how many times I try to shove him out of my mind, the truth is in the blush of my skin and the ache of my chest.

This male with the bottomless eyes has already snared me.

Chapter 15

AUREN

The ticking time between us is marked only by the beats in my chest, one that seems to match the thrum of the pulse in his neck.

Even though we’re standing in this wide entry, white beams crisscrossing overhead like the leather straps over his chest, it feels as if we’re in a tiny enclosure together, eating up every available space.

Rip assesses me where I’m slumped over the railing, and if I didn’t feel so awful, I might care about how weak I look. Yet my mind is far too burned out, so all sorts of caring have gone straight out the frosted window.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly. His tone is different. So very different from the one he used with the guards. The sound of his smooth voice somehow seems to coat my body, like mist over a starlit pond.

“Me? I’m great. Perfect. Never better,” I reply sardonically, though my words are too sloppy, too slurred.

Rip narrows his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Drunk on power.” Much to my embarrassment, an incredibly loud snort erupts out of me as I begin to laugh at my own bad joke. Then I just start laughing harder at the frown on Rip’s face, until my entire body is shaking with mirth, making it even more difficult to stay upright. Yep. I’ve finally cracked. My senses drained right out along with my magic.

When the corner of Rip’s mouth twitches with amusement, my stomach flips at the sight. My laughter ebbs away with the pull of the tide, my hysterics drying up like an abandoned shoreline.

Warring desires have me unsure of whether I want to get away from him...or get closer.

Bad idea. Bad, horrible, terrible idea.

Yet my tiredness has stripped me down, because I just want to breathe. To stop planning, stop pretending,

stop worrying, and just be for a moment. Though this is treacherous water, and I never was a good swimmer.

Suddenly nervous, my eyes dart around with the need for a distraction, with the need to do...something, just so I don’t take a step toward him, because I don’t trust myself right now.

“I need to go to my room,” I spout, voice belying my nervousness, my need to flee.

I jolt upright and move to take a step, but intense dizziness hits me, and my jellied legs give out. My feet slip from beneath me like the carpet is suddenly slick, and a bubble of alarm pops from my mouth as my legs buckle.