The Offering (The Pledge 3)

I pressed myself against him as close as I could get, basking in the feel of his skin so close to mine. My fingers sought his, and when I found them, I clung to him. And still we kissed, our tongues testing each other . . . delighting in the sensation, the movements, the longing.

I arched my back, my entire body aching to be one with him. Max groaned into my mouth as his teeth bit into the tender flesh of my lower lip. “Charlie, stop,” he gasped. “Just . . . stop for a minute. There’s no door on the chamber. Anyone could walk in at any moment. Zafir . . . he knows exactly where you are. . . .” His words trailed away when I lifted my hips again, intentionally trying to distract him from his train of thought.

I didn’t want to be rational, not when every part of me was begging for more. To be impulsive and reckless, and wild and imprudent. Right here, right now, door or no.

Max wanted it too. I knew he did.

And then I heard him howl. He shoved me away from him, his face a mixture of anguish and confusion.

My breath coming in sharp gasps, I blinked several times. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean what’s the matter?” he accused. “Why would you do that?” He rotated so I could see what he was talking about, showing me the angry red marks on his shoulder.

Scratches.

I glanced down at my fingers and saw his blood on my nails. “But I . . . ” I didn’t do that, I wanted to finish, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, because obviously I had.

I closed my eyes as a sensation overwhelmed me, something close to satisfaction.

No. I fought against myself. This can’t be happening. She can’t have this kind of control over me.

But I knew I was lying to myself, that the line between her and me was blurring. That she was just showing she could still manipulate me if I let my defenses down.

And that’s what I’d done. I’d let myself be distracted. “Max . . . I’m so sorry,” I offered, hoping it was enough, that he wouldn’t make me elaborate. “I guess I . . . got carried away.”

He grimaced. “Carried away? Is that what you call it?” He inhaled deeply, and then his shoulders relaxed and he grinned. “I suppose that’s a compliment. Is that what you’re telling me?”

I groaned at his conceit, but I was glad he was so easily letting me off the hook. Glad he was so willing to believe it had been his skills and not something darker and more sinister that had caused me to react so savagely.

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to mine, reigniting that spark that had been so jarringly extinguished, and just like that I was under his spell once more. I knew with that kiss that all had been forgiven.

He eased away from me then, ever so slightly. I followed, moving with him, meaning to settle myself on his lap. I still wanted to be close to him. I still craved his touch, the feel of his skin . . . the beat of his heart.

He grinned down at me as he firmly gripped my hips, setting me away from him and making his intentions clear. “I don’t think you should sit there. Not a very good idea at the moment.”

I couldn’t help the small swell of arrogance I felt at the fact that I could affect him so tangibly, especially since I could never hide the way he affected me. My skin glowed, from head to toe, awash in the fever Max had stirred in me. I leaned my head against his arm.

When I finally dared a sidelong glance his way, my chest tightened. Max’s features were strained as he closed his eyes and exhaled audibly.

My thoughts flashed back to earlier, to what had happened today, the messengers from Astonia. Shame flushed my cheeks as I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Max. You’re right. This isn’t the time or place. There are far more important matters than . . .” I glanced at him again, a different kind of flush spreading over me, and I grimaced. “kissing.”

Max grinned over at me, his arm dropping heavily around my shoulder. The gesture was chaste, and I realized he was still struggling with his control. “Damn, Charlie. There’s nothing wrong with kissing,” he muttered, pressing his lips to the top of my head and sighing. “But we do need to figure some things out. Brook’s ready to fire the first shot. She’s tired of diplomacy. In her mind the war’s inevitable. In fact, to hear her tell it, it’s already begun.”

I already knew as much. Despite our differences—or rather, despite the fact that Brook was still keeping me at arm’s length—I knew her feelings on the matter. She believed I’d been too lenient when we’d discovered that Queen Elena had infiltrated our country with her spies. The fact that one of them had turned out to be Brook’s own father had only galled her more, spurring her desire for vengeance against the Astonian queen.

Now this with Xander . . .

“What do you think, Max? Xander was—” I stopped midsentence and corrected myself. We had no way of knowing whether Xander was dead or not. “Is your brother. What do you think we should do?”

Max didn’t hesitate. He’d already considered this matter. “It’s not about whether he’s my brother or not. It’s not about Xander at all. It’s about whether peace can be reached. Xander believed it was possible—”

“But look where that got him.” It was Brook who’d interrupted him, startling me, and I shot upright. I guess my “private place” wasn’t as private as I’d assumed it was.

I glanced at Max, who didn’t seem to notice that he was still shirtless. He stretched his arms casually across the back of the settee, leaning back as if he didn’t have a care in the world, despite the fact that we were discussing whether or not to go to war. “Xander knew the risks when he went,” Max retorted. “Besides, we can’t be certain it was really Elena who sent us that message. What if it’s a ploy to incite a war between our nations? What if some outside force is behind this?”