A Fate of Wrath & Flame (Fate & Flame 1)

He snorts. “Don’t ever let him hear you say that.”

“He said you took pity on him after. Helped him survive and made him a soldier.”

“We helped each other survive. Another side effect of the venom is the euphoria of releasing it into a vein. It’s an exhilarating feeling, and when you give in to it once, it’s difficult not to keep giving into it.”

“You’re saying it’s addicting.”

“Yes. Addicting. Highly. Another reason why the act is banned within Islor. It took months to get the urge out of my system. Elisaf and I went into the mountains north of Lyndel, under the guise of helping him transition. Really, it was both of us battling our urges.”

I feel him exploring my face as I squeeze the cloth and watch the water pour down over his chest. “So, you trust him completely, then.”

“More than anyone else I know.” He pauses. “And now you know one of my deepest secrets.”

I sense the question hanging in the air. Tell me your secrets, Romeria.

The relief that I feel with Wendeline knowing is staggering, but I can’t assume the reception of my news will be as welcomed by the king, nor will the glaring proof that yet another of his trusted people have lied to him.

“You have a cut,” I whisper, stalling a moment to study a thin red line across the ball of his shoulder.

“It’s already healing.”

I slip my hand below the waterline to travel over his abdomen, the ripple of muscle against my palm mesmerizing. I’m exploring far more than is probably smart. His body tenses as I lean forward to reach even farther. “You really should wear armor when you swing around that sword of yours.”

He seizes my hand, halting it, his chest heaving with each breath. “We’ve played this game before, haven’t we?”

“I don’t know. Have we?” I lock gazes with him. Now that I know what I am, I can never step foot near the nymphaeum on the blood moon, which means I’m never leaving these lands, a reality that has not yet sunk in. What will happen to me? Wendeline thinks I have an important path to take, and it involves this man.

This king, who believes himself under some spell.

Maybe he is.

But how then do I explain what I’m feeling for him?

“Maybe this time, it isn’t a game,” I whisper.

His shallow exhale skates across my cheek. “Should we find out?” He pauses a few beats and then guides my hand downward, along his abdomen, farther, releasing it just shy of the assumed target, his gaze fixed on mine as he waits for me to make the next move.

Beneath my palm, his taut muscles tense with anticipation. But it’s in his bright eyes that I see the truth—he’s as confused and conflicted as I am, but he wants it to happen just as badly as I do.

My blood races as I curl my fingers around the hard length of him, the skin velvety soft against my palm. Whatever else he is with me—angry, resentful, frustrated—he cannot hide his attraction.

His head falls back against the tub, a pained look on his face. “I did not think you would do it.”

“Did you not want me to?” I slide my hand down as I touch him thoroughly, memorizing the feel and weight of him against my palm. “Should I stop?”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “What I want right now is for you to climb into this tub.”

“With you?”

He smirks. “If you dare.”

I call his bluff, but not in the way he expects.

Kicking off my shoes, I climb into the warm water. Zander’s eyes flash wide as he shifts, his legs slipping between mine to make room for me. Water splashes over the sides and onto the marble tile as I settle onto his lap, my violet dress billowing for a second before sinking beneath the surface.

The surprise fades quickly as our mouths crash into each other in a tangle of lips and tongue and teeth and our hands frantically wander as if attempting to touch every inch of each other all at once. I can’t help myself. The tip of my tongue slides over his teeth.

With a deep chuckle—he knows what I’m searching for—he yanks off the capelet with a jerk of his fist, tossing it aside. “Those are annoying,” he whispers, burying his face in my neck while his hands tug at the top of my dress, slipping the capped sleeves off and dragging the bodice down to my waist.