Her body responded as if he’d touched it. He continued to make comments about her supposed infatuation, but she felt like they were destined. How to convince him?
If he’d just commit to her, she’d sleep with him, and then his seal would break, proving what she’d known all along. He couldn’t deny evidence like that! Nothing could be more convincing—not her arguments, not her holding out.
What if she gave it up? Would the undeniable proof jump-start their future together?
Or break her heart?
FORTY-SEVEN
Though Rune and Josephine had been releasing pressure a few times a day, just being around her ratcheted up his need. He was having difficulty concentrating. Right now, he should be on guard against threats along the Venetian canal, not staring at her.
But in the moonlight, her creamy skin looked even paler, her eyes darker. Her hair shone, appearing almost black. At that moment, she tucked a curl behind her bewitching ear, as if to tease him.
She turned back to the water, but not before he saw her irises waver with desire. He wasn’t the only one in need.
“Let’s give it fifteen more minutes.” She leaned forward to rest her forearms on the bridge railing, drawing his attention to her black miniskirt.
Erection straining against his pants, he fantasized about taking her just like that. He’d smooth that skirt up her hips, tug her thong aside, then work his cock inside her right here. If she was his, he would come in her, claiming her.
He forced his gaze away from her to study their surroundings, marking vantages and blind spots. He knew Nïx was playing with them, foreseeing their movements, yet these weeks hadn’t been wasted. Rune had used the time to recruit Josephine.
He could now admit he was securing her loyalty for himself far more than for the Møriør.
How long will she bloody hold out from me? While his will seemed to weaken, Josephine grew more powerful in all aspects. Even she’d noticed it, attributing her increased speed and strength to his blood.
His regular donations left him with no negative effects. Just the opposite. He felt energized. But if they went too long between feedings, he’d get heated, as if he had too much blood, his body overfull with it.
All parts of his body. His throbbing shaft woke him each morning. He would cut himself, waking her with the scent of his blood, then eagerly steer her to his cock.
He’d told her she couldn’t go less than twice a day. When she’d asked if that included “snacks,” he’d thrown her over his shoulder and whacked her on the ass, informing her that nothing about him was snack-sized. She’d laughed and laughed. . . .
As much as she’d been drinking, had she dreamed his memories? At times, when he revealed something about himself, she wouldn’t seem surprised at all.
He was apprehensive about her seeing his past in that brothel. Would she run screaming? Or pity him? He didn’t think he could handle her pity.
As if he could handle her running away from him? Already he was addicted to her laugh, her candor, her blazing sexuality. She was more tempting than meadowberries to a halfstarved slave. . . .
I’m going to have to tell her soon.
“She’s not coming,” Josephine muttered. “This is getting old.”
“I thought you were enjoying yourself with me.”
“You, I like. This—not so much. She could at least make these no-shows more interesting.”
“Each time I figure we’re walking into an ambush.” And why, he wondered for the thousandth time, hadn’t Nïx contacted his enemies, passing along Rune’s predicted location? King Saetthan, for one, had a colossal bounty on his head and was a fey ally of Nïx’s—
“Rune, look! In the water.”
A model boat floated down the canal. He turned to Josephine. “All yours.”
She started to go intangible.
“No, Josie. Use your telekinesis.” He’d been encouraging her to practice.
She nodded, aiming her hand at the boat. Her brows drew together as she lifted it, directing it closer. Off by a ways, she levitated to snag it in the air. But at least she hadn’t destroyed it outright. She ripped free a note affixed to the mast.
She no longer acted as if she could read, just handed over the missive.
In one week, she’d learned much of the runic language; she would pick up reading English so quickly. He tore open the envelope, finding a crisp invitation card. Once all this was over, when he had her settled in Tortua, he’d teach her. For now, he read aloud:
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO ATTEND THE 2915TH ANNUAL TITANIA COURT BALL 10:00 ON THE EVE OF THE PINK MOON
“What’s Titania?” she asked.
“A fey kingdom.” The pink moon was this month’s full moon. He gazed up at the sky. The ball would be tonight. With the time difference, they had roughly eight hours till it started.
Josephine canted her head. “Okay, so what’s this ball thingy?”
He crumpled the invitation. “A trap.”
Rune stood by the fire in Tortua, gazing at the flames. He’d dressed in his formal attire for the ball thingy, was only awaiting Josephine.
He wanted to leave her safely behind, but her vow compelled him to keep her close. So he’d debated not going. Titania was a staunch ally of Sylvan, and he wagered Nïx would never show.
In fact, he believed the soothsayer had planned these twelve days to lead up to this ball—as a favor to King Saetthan.
Yet Rune’s duty to the Møriør demanded he attend, which meant Josephine would too. She was eager for it, though he’d explained everything they’d be up against.