None rang true.
She was about to go out and lie to him.
Eventually, when she could delay no longer, she lifted her head and walked out, preparing for the sight of him lying in wait on the bed of her future nightmares of denial but she found him seated at the open window of their bedroom instead. His gaze was on the distant Thromian mountains and the lavish courtyards below. He wore lounging pants and no shirt, and sipped slowly from a tall glass. She ignored the voice that told her he was devastatingly handsome. His body rippled perfection outlined by the moonlight. Her steps faltered, and she started to lose her confidence as she padded across the thick carpeted floor and then even more when he turned to look at her. Treating him with contempt and dismissal was going to be hard. His eyes gleamed their usual wicked yellow, the gaze as always one of hungry worship. It threw her stomach into turmoil. No woman could withstand the awed glances of heated reverence he gave her. She continued her walk, determined to reach him and have her say but as she neared him, his mouth parted with a sigh of pleasure and his eyes slowly lit up with violet. It made her throat run dry and her hand self-consciously went to the neckline of the lace nightgown Leyahanna set out for her.
If she wanted to stop Wrexel’s hungry gazes from throwing her stomach into lurching anxiety, she would need to find ratty track pants and t-shirts. She opened her mouth, but he silenced her when he lifted a second glass from the window seat and held it out to her.
“What is that?” she asked wearily. She needed a clear head and yet something stronger would help the words that stuck in her throat.
“Juice.” He looked at the side cabinet. “But if you want something else?”
“No.” She took the goblet.
Going to the bed or running didn’t seem like viable options so she sat on the window seat as far as she could from him. Butterflies raced through her stomach at the way he peered over the top of his glass at her. She was reminded of his confessional moments when he was poised above her. The moaning admission of her effect on him, the way his hand shook when he first touched her.
“Revan’s touch fully healed you?” He interrupted her thoughts.
“Yes.”
Focus, Amber!
“My body is sound, but my mind will never be.”
A small smile crept at the corners of his mouth, mocking her and reminding her of how she had lost herself to his touch and it infuriated her.
“Tonight was unavoidable; I hope you committed it to memory because it will never happen again.”
There.
She had said it.
He never flinched. “We’ll see.”
Anger bubbled within her, but he drained the rest of his glass and stood up. “Let’s go to bed then.”
To her mortification, she began to babble, reminding him that she was not his to enjoy at liberty, that he had something that night he would never have again but he stepped closer to her and put a finger on her lip. “I said bed, Amber; if I want to have sex with you I will make the request clear.”
“Good, then I can make it clearly known that we will not.” She just managed to get the words out, for his closeness began to disarm her as always.
Again, the knowing, mocking smile. “We’ll see.”
He took the empty glass from her hand and set it down, leaning too close to her as he did it. He lifted her from the seat by gently cupping her elbow and leading her to their bed. Amber slipped between the satin sheets and turned on her side with her back to him.
Hours later, she heard his deep, even breathing and wanted to kick him from her precarious position on the very end of the bed. While she lay agonizing that he would reach for her, pull her into his arms, touch her in ways that made her lose her mind, he had fallen asleep.
23
Covet
Wound up was an understatement.
She had been in the castle for days.
Days of him leaving early, spending most of the day away, and then returning in the evening to eat dinner with her and train Banjo, who hadn’t been able to sit on command for all of his dog life. Wrexel spoke lightly of subjects like the creatures who lived within the 104 or the architectural structures going up on Rheese. He asked her to change whatever she didn’t like about her new home, and engaged her in deep conversations about life, the universe, and Thromian law.
He did not extend what he said would be a clear request for sex in any of their moments together, even when his eyes flared with open longing.
It was annoying!
He was giving her no opportunity to rebut him.
She bristled with frustration as she watched Banjo following his hand motions with absolute rapt attention, obeying every command on cue and without the promise of a treat. His reward from Wrexel was a single stroke across his head with three fingers.
She couldn’t get him to sit for a burger.
She watched Leyahanna rushing to do his bidding with the same worshipful attitude and her jaw set.
He was deceptively charming.
A handsome wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Every night when they went to bed, he left her to agonize as he lay at a distance, not extending a hand toward her.
Not that she wanted him to.
The devious touches when they were in their lounging area, or when he suggested they walk after dinner. The hand on her back that settled as if he owned her. The way he gave her spine a single stroke, or held out a glass of wine and gently moved her hair from her cheek.
Annoying, gentle, unassuming touches that asked for nothing when his eyes clearly told her the opposite. He never lost the hungry gaze and it never ceased to thrill her.
She watched Earth movies to keep busy and to cut out the need for conversation. He seemed content to sit at her side, a frown of confusion on his face at the rerun sitcoms she liked. One hand extended across the back of the couch, he would play with her hair, winding it around his fingers.
Sometimes they would run over the nape of her neck and she would catch herself sighing before she glared and moved away.
She was getting to the point where she wanted to scream, “Make a move so I can rebuff you,” but Wrexel was showing her every day she was out of her league and he was deceptively patient.
On the fourth morning, faced with another day of waiting for him whilst she planned her rebuttal, she was certain she would blow up with frustration so she told Leyahanna she had to exercise. They made their way down to the lowest courtyard.
Leyahanna agreed to the run but ordered an additional guard. “It’s on the ground, Amber, and although our wing has Shihlo to the left and Staede to the right, the Monarch would find it easier to get you outside.”
“Surely he would not come down and attack me?” she said with alarm and then shook her head as Leyahanna ordered the guards. “Who would fight off their king for me?”
“He would send an assassin, Amber.”
Amber shivered as she spoke, remembering that somewhere within the huge expanse of Four Wings lived an angry king who would like nothing more than to see her dead.
* * *
She walked out into the courtyard and saw that Leyahanna had posted three Thromians on guard.
Typical of their kind, they lowered their heads in greeting but had no compulsion to hide their warm reaction to the leggings and tight vest she wore. Thromians were so open about everything sexual that they had no issues showing appreciation toward her. They lacked the reserve that humans did. She was grateful for their protection but felt horribly self-conscious as she began to run around the long courtyard. She focused on her surroundings instead and ignored them.
She could not deny that the parts of Four Wings she had been able to explore were indeed something to behold. The décor was lavish and rich in color. She found herself stopping to admire many a portrait and tapestry and marveled at the way both new and old were so expertly merged. Holograms, walled depictions of different inaugurations and battle scenes – both painted and on moving screens �
� peppered the large, wide passageways. She enjoyed walking on the detailed tiled floors, taking in the design that must have taken the builders years to complete. Thick carpets, chandeliers both elegant and otherworldly… there was always something to make her stop and study.
The balconies and courtyards, however, merely made her sad. Grey stone tiles and boxed cylindrical hedges in neat walled-off areas. There was no lack of greenery but it was always unnaturally presented, perfectly sculpted, and maintained. Amber missed normal parks with uneven grass and trees growing in freedom that she could lie beneath and catch her breath. She missed the smell of freshly cut lawns, the crunch of leaves beneath her feet, and muddy running shoes to prop outside the front door.
The center of the square that she jogged around was filled with boxed and tended flowers, some daintily carved shrubs, and weird ornate statues, making a perfect round track for her exercise routine. It did little to relieve her homesick feeling.
The idea that she would never run in a park again made her fight a rise of tears as she passed the guards. They stood unmoving, arms folded, watching her intently and with unconcealed interest.
Soon the joy that only exercise generated returned, and she settled into a decent pace, oblivious to her surroundings. She turned the corner at the end of the long courtyard and looked for Leyahanna, needing some water, and saw that she was no longer alone.
* * *
Standing at her side, arms also folded, watching her intently was Wrexel, the guards no longer in attendance. She lost her pace and rhythm, feeling self-conscious once again as she neared them. He, too, did not hide his reaction to her. A gleaming look of appreciation in swirling purple filled his eyes, and she felt like she was prey running into an ambush. When he didn’t show her his appreciative reaction, she found herself looking for it sometimes. It was something she realized she both liked and hated. There were moments when she didn’t need the color indication; the hunger in his gaze was direct, robbing her of clear thought. This was one of them. The look in his eyes was so warm and intense that her legs buckled. Amber’s ankle wrenched as she slid onto the ground, scraping her knee along the graveled ground.
She was mortified, especially when Wrexel ran to her immediately, his speed shocking. He was at her side within seconds. He knelt beside her and placed one steadying hand on her shoulder as he lifted her leg to survey the damage to her knee. Amber sighed when his palm cradled her calf and his eyes roamed over the gash.
The heat from his hands seeped into her skin and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning when he lifted her into his arms to carry her back to the castle. Her head lay against his chest; his arms wound around her thighs and back, cradling her as if she weighed nothing.
“I can walk.” She wriggled a little, unnerved by the close proximity and caught her breath when he said, “I know.”
* * *
Amber sat on the couch while Leyahanna sprouted words of concern and then dashed off to fetch the medicinal droid at his command, leaving them alone. “Let’s get these leggings off so we can see the damage.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and slowly eased them off her waist and down over her thighs, his hands brushing against her bare flesh. Every touch, despite being ones of care, were deliberately sensual, his hands lingering on her skin, cupping her feet when he took her shoes off, eyes sliding over her underwear and bare thighs with a heated glance. Amber was ready to scream with relief when the droid came in, certain Wrexel would abandon his gentle touch with his large hands and leave her care to the droid. However, he gave out orders instead and the droid dutifully handed him everything he asked for to clean the cut.
He took his time examining her ankle and then he gently probed along both legs to check where else she was hurt. Amber struggled to control her breathing and cursed herself. She realized that she had been starved for his touch for days and wallowed in misery that she couldn’t find one ounce of angry resolve to slap his hands away, throw Travis in his face, or demand the droid attend to her. Instead she sat, half-trembling, her body spiraling into a slow burn. When he leaned toward her, she knew she was lost; a thousand retorts came to mind but they all arrested on her lips that were an inch from his.
“Amber.”
“Yes.” God, her voice sounded whispery and desperate.
“The bandage is waterproof; you can shower with it.”
Ugh!
* * *
A couple of days later, Amber walked around Wrexel’s corridors and stopped at each portrait displayed.
Leyahanna translated what she read and helped Amber learn more about Throm. It was part of their daily routine that she enjoyed. It kept her busy, and it kept her from agonizing that Wrexel had still not done more than torture her with his presence.
She shook her mind off the guilty obsession that was growing within her and focused on her surroundings instead. Four Wings was indeed a treasure trove of history.
Wrexel was out on what he called military maneuvers, but Amber had overheard him telling Shihlo that he suspected the Monarch Gilroth was planning another terrorist attack. Wrexel hoped to circumvent it. The king was still claiming the existence of a black party, unhappy with the constitution, but all the brothers knew that he was the motivation behind it.
Whatever maneuvers Wrexel was on, he would be back in a day or two, so Amber was determined to enjoy the time alone. When he departed, she relaxed, glad to be free of the mental torment Wrexel seemed to create every time he touched her.
Amber had tried.
For a week and more… she had tried. But she desired him more than she hated him, and she lost the battle daily. She kept comparing Travis with Wrexel. Physically, there was no match. However, the fact that Wrexel was more attentive, more focused on her every need, and completely captivated by her during every second they were together made her bristle.
She did not want to find fault with Travis but there were times when she wondered how deep their love had been. Wrexel had her fully in his control and it was reminiscent of her time with Travis. But with Wrexel, she got to rebel and fight against it; with Travis, she was made to feel guilty until she acceded.
Amber rounded the corner in the elaborate passageway, her thoughts very much her own, and came to an abrupt halt when she saw Staede seated at the foot of one of the larger statues. He made for a handsome and daring picture, all rakish, wicked charm and a dazzling smile to match.
She had seen him briefly in passing and there had been a few moments of wicked insinuation when he caught a brief moment alone with her or the odd inappropriate gaze, but for the most part he had been polite but preoccupied. Wrexel breathed an audible sigh of relief each time he left.
However, Shihlo had not been convinced, warning Amber to be aware that Staede was as devious as he was patient and at all costs she should avoid a fight between the brothers by avoiding time with Staede.
“Hello, sister… of Shihlo,” Staede added after a pause, his grin lecherous.
Amber smiled. She had to admit that his wit, if not his constant leering, was refreshing in the few moments they had shared. She had yet to share a laugh with Wrexel the way she had laughed with – or, rather, at – Staede. Wrexel had banned Staede from his wing in his absence and had ordered Amber to defer all requests for a royal visit. He had been right; his ship had been gone a day when Amber had received a call requesting a brotherly visit.
She had declined hours ago, but now Staede had found a way into the castle wing that Wrexel claimed was a fortress.
“I thought you had been banned from Wrexel’s domain.” She folded her arms and ignored the way he admired the effect on her breasts.
“Being banned is my favorite kind of invitation.” He slipped off the statue’s foot and waved a hand at Leyahanna. “Off you go, little Gweithi. I’ll send you a little bounty of jewels for your silence.”
Leyahanna’s eyes sparked with outrage.
“I will not leave my mistress and you cannot pay me for treacher
y,” she hissed. “Kindly leave or I will alert the guards to have you removed.”
“Go ahead.” Staede gave a flamboyant bow. “Go on,” he said when she remained standing at Amber’s side.
“Call. For. Help.” He said each word slowly as if she were impaired.
Leyahanna reached for her monitor and then groaned. “It was missing this morning,” she wailed.
“Somebody put it in in the back of the bedroom cupboard,” Staede offered gallantly as Leyahanna spluttered with anger.
“Come, my lady; let’s return to Wrexel’s living quarters,” Leyahanna urged.
Staede stepped forward and took Amber’s arm. “Go and get the monitor; I will take over the tour. Relax, Leyahanna, you should have the guards here to remove me within ten minutes. I can’t do much harm in that time.”
Leyahanna stared at him and then at Amber. “Come, my lady,” she begged.
Amber turned to leave but Staede reached out and caught her hand.
“Afraid to spend even ten minutes with me?” he asked. “Don’t want to upset the husband?”
Amber removed her arm from his. “Not afraid at all. Go retrieve your monitor, Leyahanna, and ask the guard to remove our guest. I’ll stay here to watch the event.”
Staede smiled as Leyahanna darted off after flashing a look of disapproval at Amber. They watched her leave. Then Amber jumped when he whispered into her ear.
“Oh dear, I wonder if she thought I meant her bedroom cupboard.” He grinned at Amber and held out a large hand. “So, frail little Earthling, let’s continue your tour, if you are as unafraid as you claim.”
“I am,” said Amber. “Let’s move on to the next statue and you can tell me all about it.”
AMNESIA Page 31