Page 46 of The Death King
I steadied as I grabbed the doorknob, knowing exactly what lay on the other side. I stared at the shiny handle before I turned it and stepped inside. A fire that I didn’t make was in the fireplace, the glow of the flames casting shadows in the corners. This time, I was prepared to see his face, but even then, I wasn’t truly ready for it.
He sat in the armchair in just his trousers, his chest bare with little shadows behind the mounds of muscle. Cords underneath the skin popped and had their own shadows tucked just behind their paths. He lounged with one elbow on the armrest, his closed knuckles propped against his cheek. His eyes were on me the moment I walked into the room, like he’d already been staring at the door because Khazmuda had warned him of my approach.
I stood there and stared at him, his dark hair slightly messy like he’d taken a shower and quickly scrubbed the towel through his damp strands. It was the same color as his eyes, midnight black, foreboding.
I’d kissed that mouth…but couldn’t really remember it. I couldn’t remember most of it, just aware that an earthquake had happened between my legs that sent shivers up my spine. Once the pleasure had passed, my mind stirred and came to reality, and I understood what had transpired. I was horrified…and embarrassed. “Waiting for me to go to sleep so you can make your move?”
He gave no reaction to the insult.
I moved to the corner of the couch, the spot farthest from him, and sat with my back against the armrest. After the bitter cold of the outdoors, this room was so warm and cozy, the flames strong like he’d just started it in the last half hour.
He continued to stare at me, fingers curled under his jaw, his stare subtle but ruthless at the same time.
“What do you want?”
“I’m the king of this castle, so I don’t need to justify my presence.”
“Alright. When are you going to leave?”
His eyes bored into mine.
Sometimes that stare was too much. Sometimes I had to look away before he sucked me into his soul.
“Did you enjoy Khazmuda’s company?”
“Yes, he’s lovely.”
“What did you think of the valley?”
“You’ve been there?”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s our place…or at least, it was.”
It was hard to imagine the two of them spending time together in a field of flowers flooded with sunshine.
“But I don’t mind his sharing it with you.”
“It was nice to have some fresh air. It was nice to be away from this place.”
“You’ve been treated more like a royal guest than a prisoner.”
I turned to him. “So that’s how you treat all your guests? Sneak into their room and slip your fingers down their underwear?”
There was no shame or remorse in his eyes. “Just you.”
“Oh, I’m flattered.”
“That wasn’t my intention when I walked in here. But the blanket had fallen to the floor, and your dress had risen up your thighs and exposed your white panties underneath.”
I pictured myself lying there, knees parted, my bottom half on display. I felt a twinge of embarrassment that flushed my cheeks, but I swallowed and bottled it deep inside. “That doesn’t make it an invitation.”
“I didn’t need one.” He hadn’t moved in all this time, his fingers still against his jawline, his eyes still wide like he didn’t need to blink. His muscular body looked even more defined in the firelight. If I’d walked in here under different circumstances, it would be hard not to stare. “I told you I’m not sorry, so don’t hold your breath for an apology.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To remind you how much you liked it.”
I held his stare but felt the embarrassment and shame course through me. This was the man who’d taken my home away from me, who’d sent me to the desert to work until I collapsed. And after the situation I’d just left, how could I possibly want anyone?