Page 206 of Dare

A delighted yelp launched from my mouth as he whipped me around. Those crystal eyes glittered, and his lips parted as if what he saw robbed him of breath.

“And you have melted me,” he swore.

No one had ever looked—looked—at me that way. Like a woman and a goddess. Like a lifeline. Like a human being. Like anyone else on this continent, yet like no one else in this universe. My heart kindled as though he’d lit a match.

I laughed as he snatched my thighs and hauled me off the terrace floor. Based on the low growl slicing from his tongue, I knew what this man wanted. Divine Seasons, we never got enough of each other.

With my legs knotted around Jeryn’s waist, I stroked the harsh angles of his face. “But we’re not done yet.”

“Indeed,” he hissed against my smiling mouth. “We shall never be done.”

As the snow fell, my villain king snatched my lips with his. Then he carried me back inside, back to the pile of furs, and back to the flames.

60

Aspen

Six months later.

At parties, something always broke. Whether a pricey glass or a fancy vase, the casualty inevitably went down, spilling glass or ceramic shards across the floor. But other things could shatter too. Things people couldn’t see, because they didn’t look closely enough.

My fingers clutched the gate bars. Between the intricate ironwork, I peeked into the maple pasture, where our band hosted a farewell revel.

Eliot played his lute, his eyes gleaming at a nobleman with dark skin and gray hair, who stared back with a smitten expression. After a slow burn courtship, the pair had been going hot and heavy ever since.

Meanwhile, the ladies threw back their heads and laughed.

Queen Avalea and Nicu ignited a lantern, letting it soar into the clouds.

In the shadows, Poet whispered dirty talk against Briar’s mouth, something pornographic based on how she curled into him.

Jeryn pinned Flare against a tree while she playfully dodged his kisses, making the king work for his snack.

Beneath an arbor, courtiers flocked around a knight, each of them wishing him well on the confidential Autumn mission to which he’d been assigned. At one point, the soldier grinned politely at something a lady said, his gesture staining her cheeks a fresh ballerina pink, the exchange containing enough sweetness to rot a person’s teeth. Such a perfect damsel, with a perfect hourglass figure and perfectly manicured fingers. Just like the rest of them.

It wasn’t the first time he’d attracted a fan club. Neither would it be the last. All of them would still be here when he returned from his crusade.

Poet had said it could take months. He’d also said it could be years.

My eyes stung, but I sucked it up. Like the Winter King had once guessed, tears hurt when they struck my flesh.

At that moment, Aire’s head lifted. For an entire thirty seconds, his eyes—the blue of a midnight sky—searched the pasture.

I clenched the bars, the husk inside my chest throbbing. I pretended that gaze sought a girl who wore a hood, that he could see through any barrier and find her, that she occupied a tiny corner of his mind.

Wishful thinking. Pipe dreams.

His gaze flickered in concern, failed to locate me, and returned to his audience.

My chest splintered like wood chips. Again, something always broke at these shindigs, but it wasn’t always the stuff others noticed.

Smoothing out the secondhand gown I’d saved up for, I released the bars. I’d been invited, had gotten dressed up for the occasion, but honesty? Because sure, I could be honest sometimes, I didn’t feel like tossing back shots of hard cider and getting shitfaced tonight. I’d only embarrass myself in front of him, and if my sloppy tongue went rogue, I might admit something I shouldn’t.

Below my sleeves, I glimpsed the wood grain and leaf pattern disfiguring my hands. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I arranged the cloak and shielded my features. Through the lower town and past The Wandering Fields, I trekked into the beech forest. In that amount of time, I broke a record and managed not to cry. Yay for me.

My mangled heart was another matter. At this rate, I’d need a hammer and a few nails to repair the damage.

Not three seconds into the woods, a voice cut through the night. “Do they suspect anything?”