Chapter 23

Chapter

Twenty-Three

ALYX

M y hand drifts to the small cut on my arm. It’s not even bleeding anymore, but the skin is torn. I sweep my hand over it, smiling as I remember my shock at Joha landing that blow. Shaking my head at the foolishness of what we just did, I drop my hand and turn away, leaving my torn, bloody clothing on the floor of my rooms. I will need to move them before my ladies-in-waiting attend me in the morning, but for now, I’m alone and allowed to be just Alyx, not the queen-to-be.

I hurried back after Joha left, not wanting to be caught slinking around. Something about our encounter unsettled me anyway, so I wanted to get away so I could clear my head.

The candles flicker brightly, casting my sprawling rooms in warm white light and shadows. I’ve been assured these are very good rooms, and my ladies-in-waiting seemed overjoyed, but to me, it is just another place to lay my head.

I have not had a home since that night, not even my room in Crux’s kingdom.

My bed is set back in a rectangular addition to the suite with windows above it, which is currently shaded and covered. Before it is a sitting room with a formal table as well as all the knickknacks expected of a queen-to-be. To the left is a separate dressing chamber filled with more clothes than anyone could ever need, a mirror, and a vanity table. To my right is a private bathing chamber with a huge, clawfoot, metal tub and indoor toilet.

There are gilded decorations everywhere, along with ancient pottery and tapestries. It’s like they took all the opulence they could think of and threw it into one room. Take the ceiling for example—they hid the wooden beams by draping red, gauzy fabric around it, creating a soft, cosy interior.

It works, settling the nerves inside me, which isn’t necessarily a good thing. There are, however, lots of places to hide my weapons without snooping guards or ladies-in-waiting finding them. It was the first thing I did when I came in here.

Sighing, I slide a dagger back into the holster on my thigh, unable to sleep without one or two on my body. Wearing nothing but a blue sleep gown they provided, which I must admit is the comfiest thing I’ve ever felt, I begin the task of darkening the room from the many candles.

My mind drifts as I do.

I remember the look on Joha’s face as he left me there. I remember the way it felt to spar with him. It felt good. He wasn’t the king, and I wasn’t an assassin. It was just Joha and Alyx.

Snap out of it , I tell myself. Annoyed at my own feelings, I lean over and blow out a candle, extinguishing some of the light leading to my bed.

I stiffen, bent over as the air behind me changes.

It’s a slight shift, but one an assassin would recognise anywhere.

I’m not alone.

Dragging my blade from my thigh, I turn with a whirl and bring it up to gut whoever dares attack me, but I hit the bedding hard as a body clashes with mine, their hands capturing my wrist as if knowing my movements. My blade is flicked away, embedding in the wall to my left with a thud. I kick and twist, adrenaline fuelling my actions as I act on instinct. Freeing my hands, I roll us until the person is below me. I hold another dagger in my hand, having pulled it from my bedding, and press it to his neck before I truly look at who it is.

“Crux?” I frown in confusion, not understanding.

Using my hesitation, he flips us again, slamming my hands to the bed repeatedly until my fingers spasm and the blade drops. Gripping my hands in one of his, he presses mine above me, stretching me out below him. He sits on my thighs to stop me from bucking and freeing myself, and I freeze below him.

Annoyance and confusion swirl through me, as does a spark of desire as I stare into his tanned, scarred face. The candles flicker behind him, caressing his skin and lighting up his almost black eyes as he peers down at me silently.

I glare up at him as he grins down at me, a cocky, smug smile curving his lips. I jerk my eyes up and away from them, letting my irritation fuel me and ignoring the spark of desire that ignites inside me at being so close—pesky fucking thing. “What the fuck do you think?—”

He cuts off my words with his movement, his head tilting down. His intention is clear in his eyes.

My whole heart freezes, my eyes widening, but I do not have time to figure out how to react because his lips are on mine. He nips, licks, and kisses my unmoving lips.

Crux is kissing me, tasting every inch of my mouth as I lie shocked beneath him. Of all the times I have imagined this, I never thought it would happen, and now he’s here, in my rooms, kissing me . . . .

It’s like the spell pops. My hands grip his back, my lips part, and he rumbles a satisfied groan, deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth and tangles with mine as we duel for dominance and submission.

I’ve been kissed before—I am not a virginal maiden, after all—but I have never been kissed like this.

It’s as if I am the air Crux breathes, as if he could not bear to part with me even for a second. We melt into one.

His hair hangs down around his face, shielding us, and his hard body pins me down more securely as he deepens the kiss. It’s brutal and hard, just like him.

Perfect.

It’s is better than I could have ever imagined, but annoyance fills me—annoyance because he waited so long and that he dared to kiss me right now, while my mind is on another man.

Unable to let him be in full control, I wrap my legs around his waist and flip us once more. My hands pin his above his head and my thighs bracket his waist, pressing my core to his rapidly hardening length. The feel of the huge organ makes my eyes widen as I perch atop it. He arches up, chasing me and kissing me harder.

“Are you happy to see me, or is that a blade?” I ask between kisses.

His lips tilt in a smirk. Sliding one hand down his body, I find a dagger in his pocket and tug it out, throwing it away. “Happy to see me it is,” I murmur as his hands snap up, breaking my grip. His meaty fingers grip the back of my hair and pull me solidly down across him, holding me hard and fast as he bites and sucks my tongue until all I can do is moan and relent.

His knee suddenly wedges up and flings me back.

I tumble to the mattress as he crawls up the bed, stopping to kiss my chest over my rapidly racing heart, and then his lips are on mine again. Groaning, I fist his messy hair, tugging him harder against me until our teeth clash.

Desire so strong I choke on it races through my blood, heating me until I cannot take it. I roll my hips, needing more of his brutal, punishing touch.

Needing to be lost in him.

All the years of repressed desire, wondering, and wanting from afar erupts between us until we fight to get closer and gain the upper hand.

We fall from the bed with our momentum, and I grunt as my back hits the wooden floor. When I hit a post, I jerk away and slap his face in warning. His head jerks to the side, his brown hair still gripped in my fist, and when he slowly turns back to face me, my heart stutters at the gleam in his black eyes—pure hunger.

I gasp when he lifts me to my feet with just one arm, throwing me back against the post as he forces himself between my thighs and kisses me. The power of our bodies rocks the table behind me until I hear something smash as it hits the floor, but I don’t care.

I reach up and tear away some of the gauze attached to the wooden ceiling, wrapping it around his throat and yanking him back. My feet hit the floor as I step away, touching my raw, bruised lips as we both pant.

We stare at each other, shock and desire reflected back at me in his eyes.

The very things I am feeling.

“Run, little assassin,” he growls.

I turn to race to the closest weapon, but he hits my back, knocking me to the floor and flipping me. More decorative items fall around us as we hit them, and his mouth finds mine once more.

I dig my teeth into his plump lower lip, making him growl like an animal as he jerks above me. “Alyx,” he warns.

“Crux,” I retort, licking the sting as I stare into his black eyes.

Snarling, he cuffs my throat and kisses me again. What was hard and feral turns drugging and loving as we kiss leisurely, like we are making up for lost time, until we break away.

Our foreheads press together as we pant.

As I come to, blinking away my desire as much as I can, panic winds through me, and he must see it in my eyes.

We crossed a line we never should have crossed.

I’m going to lose him, lose everything?—

“Shh, don’t. Don’t think right now. For one moment, let’s just be. Tomorrow doesn’t exist; neither does yesterday. It’s just now, just us and how much we want each other. No other worries.”

I nod my head slowly, relaxing at his words, and he kisses my forehead. “Just us,” I whisper.

I do not know why Crux kissed me or why he came here tonight, but I cannot be sorry or even regret it. I have wanted to kiss Crux since I was a girl, and it was better than I could have ever imagined.

It felt right, like we were made for each other, but it does not stop my shock or secret delight.

No, I don’t know why Crux kissed me, but I can’t seem to care right now—not with his taste on my lips and him looking at me like he is debating eating me alive.