Most of them are always looking for a reason to punish us, whether it’s changing cells, being denied meals, or going into the oubliette. I have to admit my part seems super easy.
“But what about you?” I ask him. “Are you going to ask the guard for help?”
“We have a bargain. I don’t ask him for anything. He knows that he has to do.”
I’m dying to know who he is, but in the magic of Rys’s arm and his alluring dance, it doesn’t seem so important.
I struggle to break through the haze, the fog of his seduction; it’s his turn now, I guess. He’s distracting me, I know he is, and still I shuffle in time to music I can hear only in my head.
“But…”
“Hush, Leannán. No more questions.” His breath is hot on my ear as he whispers again, “My power grows weak. The iron drains it faster than I can remake it. Still, for as long as it lasts, I beg that you just feel me.”
Oh, I’m feeling him all right. That’s not really a problem. But I still have to know—
To stop me from asking my next inevitable question,
Rys moves his head, angling it so that his lips go from next to my ear to right in front of me. He keeps one hand on my hip. The other eases toward my chin, tilting my head back just enough to make it possible for him to steal a kiss.
No. Not steal. Because, from the moment I made my move on him down in the oubliette, I gave him permission to touch me. Then there was the sex and, yeah, my body knows it belongs to this male. And while it’s a kiss, nothing more, nothing less, but as soon as his mouth covers mine, I feel a jolt low in my belly that has me wishing I could take it even further right now.
I slide up against him. When I’m in his arms, my world begins and ends with Rys. Part of it is how easily he turned my own seduction back on me. The absolute pleasure that comes with a fae’s touch magic. But another part tells me that, even during the beginning of my time with Jim, I never craved being near him like I do with this male.
It’s only been twenty-seven days. Worse, my addiction to him—to his hot and cold moods, his protective nature, his haunted eyes, the way he tries to push me away before pulling me close again, that scar…—is only growing stronger.
His magic is running out. That’s what he just said. Is there enough left to keep us wrapped up in this daze so that I can grab his hand and make him mine again?
It’s reckless. Foolish, too. But I want him so bad that I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t get him inside me right now.
And that’s when Rys lets go of my hip. His lips tear away from mine. After a quick stroke to the underside of my chin, he drops his hand and steps away from me.
We break even further apart, Rys stalking toward the bars of our cell while I back into the edge of the cot. Whether it was during the dance or when he was kissing me, he somehow led me right over there, just like I’d been hoping for.
Only, now that there’s distance between us, I can’t believe how utterly intoxicated I am. That’s the only way to describe it. Drunk with lust and the undeniable urge to sleep with him right here, no regrets.
Whoa.
Now?
I still want him, but the pulsing, overriding need disappears the second his hands are off of me.
Folding my arms around my waist, hugging myself, I start to shiver again—and for a totally different reason this time. It’s like someone has dropped a bucket of ice water over my head. I’m shocked back into consciousness, the warmth leaching from my bones as a sickening chill sets in instead.
I rub the bare skin of my arms. Goosebumps pop up all over my flesh as I demand, “What the hell was that about?”
Rys doesn’t look even a little bit affected. He glances out into the hall, nods when it sees it’s empty, then turns to give me a casual shrug. “My apologies. I needed to ensure that no one overheard our conversation.”
Hasn’t he even heard of a whisper?
“With a dance?”
His lips curve just enough to have my pulse racing again. Yup. He’s not affected, but I definitely am. “Sometimes a dance isn’t just a dance.”
What is that supposed to mean?
I’m confused. I’m cold now, too. My panties are so damp, I’m afraid he can sniff out how close I came to jumping him. And he wants me to believe that we went through all of that to cover his plotting of our escape? Then why did he kiss me? Why did he touch me?
Why did he make me lose my head, then step back before I could give in to the attraction sparking between us again?