The howl of the wind was muffled now, and over it, she could hear him breathing. Each inhale and exhale ratcheted up her need as her eyes roved over his body, marking the way the muscles in his jaw flexed as he watched her with equal focus.
Reaching blindly for the lantern, Lara turned the flame up high, then set it to one side, her eyes never leaving his. Clasping hold of the sodden bodice of her dress, the neckline clinging to her peaked nipples, she slowly peeled the silk from her body, discarding the garment on the floor. Then she lay back on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows. With deliberate slowness, Lara allowed her knees to fall open.
She watched his control snap, watched as he held his ground only because of the strength of her stare, his desire apparent against the rain-soaked trousers that were all he wore. “Take them off,” she commanded, his low laugh making her skin prickle with the need to have his hands on her once more.
He unbuckled his belt, then hooked his thumbs over it and pushed, the weight of the knife fastened to it dragging his trousers to the floor, where he kicked them aside. This time it was Lara’s turn to catch her breath as she took in the hard length of him, for while she’d seen him naked before, it had never been like this. Her thighs trembled beneath the floodgate of her need to have him, and she nodded once.
In three strides, he was across the room, but rather than pinning her to the bed, as she’d thought he would, he fell to his knees before her. Ithicana—and its king—bent to nothing and no one. But he bent for her.
Aren kissed the inside of her left knee. Then her right knee, lingering on an old scar that ran halfway up her inner thigh. His hands, rough with callouses earned defending his kingdom, caught hold of her legs. And with her quivering beneath his grip, he lowered his face and slid his tongue inside of her.
Her hips bucked, but he held her against the bed, licking and sucking at the apex of her thighs until a moan tore from her lips. She fell back against the sheet, hands reaching for him, pulling at him, but he only lifted his head long enough to give her a feral smirk before sliding his fingers into the spot his tongue had just vacated.
Lara’s back bowed and she grabbed at the edge of the bed, the world tilting as he caressed the inside of her, his mouth consuming her again, the pressure building deep in her core. Lightning flashed as his teeth grazed her and the world shattered, her vision fracturing as waves of pleasure washed over her until she was left gasping and trembling.
Aren didn’t move for a long moment, then with tenderness that broke her heart, he kissed her stomach before resting his cheek against it, her fingers tangling in his hair.
But she wasn’t done with him. Nor he with her.
He climbed over her with the grace of a panther on the hunt. Catching hold of her hands, he pinned her arms over her head, his knuckles digging into the mattress. For a heartbeat, she resisted, pushing against his far superior strength. And then her body yielded. Not to him, but to herself. To what she wanted. Her life had been spent as an unwitting pawn in her father’s machinations, but no longer. Every victory or mistake, every tender touch or fit of violence . . . They would be hers now. She would own them. She would own this moment.
Lifting her head, she kissed him and felt him shudder as she locked her legs around his waist, drawing him down so their bodies pressed together. The kiss deepened, all tongues and teeth, heavy breaths more felt than heard over the rumble of thunder.
The tip of him brushed against her, and Lara moaned into his mouth, her body knowing what it wanted, desperate for him to fill her. She ground her hips against him, gasping as his cock teased inside of her before pulling away.
“Not everything will be on your terms, love,” he growled into her ear. “I will not be rushed.”
“You are a demon after all,” she whispered, but her ability to speak vanished as he released his grip on her wrists and his face lowered to her breast, mouth sucking and teasing her nipple, his hand back between her legs. Her own hands drifted to his shoulders, fingers trailing over the hard curves of his muscles, tracing the lines of old scars and new, then down his spine, relishing the way he shivered beneath her touch.
But it wasn’t enough. She bit at his neck, wanting him closer, wanting their bodies and souls to merge, never again to part.
“Aren. Please.”
He reared back, taking her with him. On his knees, he held her against him, eyes locked on hers as he slowly lowered her onto his length. Head falling back, Lara shrieked into the storm, clawing at his shoulders as he sank into her and then stilled.
“Look at me.”
She did, pressing her cheek against his hand as he reached up to cup the side of her head. “I love you,” he said, his lips grazing against hers. “And I will love you, no matter what the future brings. No matter how hard I need to fight. I will always love you.”
The words undid her, broke her apart completely, then forged her into something new. Something stronger. Something better. She kissed him, long and hard and deep, their bodies rocking together.
Lowering her back to the sheets, he pulled out, then thrust back in with torturous slowness. Then again. And again. With each pounding stroke, their bodies grew slick with sweat. She gripped his hand, her other hand dragging through his hair, down his back, needing to possess every inch of him as her own body tightened, burning, burning toward release.
She would fight for him.
She would bleed for him.
She would die for him.
Because he was her king, and even if it meant assassins hunting her for the rest of her days, she would damned well be Ithicana’s queen.
Release washed over her, violent as the tempest battering her kingdom, and she felt her body’s pleasure pull Aren over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, howling her name as the room shuddered beneath the onslaught of the storm, then collapsed, his breath ragged pants in her ear.
They barely moved for what seemed hours. Lara curled into the warmth of his arms, her mind drifting as he stroked her naked back, as he covered her with a sheet when the sweat on their bodies began to cool. It was only when his breathing turned to the soft measure of slumber that she lifted her head.
Brushing the hair back from his forehead, she gently kissed him. And because she needed to say it, but wasn’t ready for him to hear, she whispered, “I love you.”
With her head resting against his chest and his heartbeat in her ear, she finally allowed sleep to take her.
34
Lara
The typhoon raged for four days, most of which Lara and Aren spent in bed. Very little of it did they spend sleeping.
Moments outside the bedroom were spent playing cards and peculiar Ithicanian board games, for which Aren was a terrible cheater. Hours of her reading aloud while his head rested in her lap, his eyes distant as he listened, his fingers interlocked with hers. He told stories of his childhood in Ithicana, which mostly seemed to involve avoiding his tutors in favor of running amok through the jungle until Jor chased him down. He told her about the first time he, Taryn, and Lia had raced for their lives on Snake Island, taking turns while their friends watched from boats on the water.
“What about Ahnna?”
Aren snorted. “She isn’t stupid enough for such stunts.”
There was an edge to his voice that caused Lara to set her glass of juice down on the table with a loud clink. “You need to apologize to your sister for what you said. It was uncalled for.”
Aren turned away, shoving a book back on the shelf and draining his own drink. “She almost got you killed.”
“It was an accident. And lest you weren’t paying attention, she was also the one to save both our asses.”
“Noted.”
“Aren.”
He refilled his drink. “I’ve said worse to her, and she to me. She’ll get over it.”
Lara chewed the insides of her cheeks, understanding that it was not reluctance to apologize, but rather the knowledge that he’d be asked to justify his actions as pertained to h
er. “There is a substantial difference between cruel words exchanged between siblings and threats uttered by a king to the commander of his armies.”
He gave her a belabored sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll apologize when I see her next.”
“Which will be when?”
“God, but you are persistent.”
Lara gave him her sweetest smile.
“The council meeting before the beginning of War Tides when we discuss our strategy. Ahnna represents Southwatch, so she has to be there.”
Her mouth opened to ask where precisely the meeting would take place, but then she shut it again. These past days Lara had been careful not to pry into any details a spy might be interested in, cautious of giving Aren any reason to doubt her loyalty. Part of her wondered if that would ever change, or if her past would always tarnish their relationship.
“Why don’t you ever talk about your sisters?”
Her sisters. Lara closed her eyes, fighting the unexpected burn of tears. It was a conscious effort on her part to think of them as little as possible. In part, it was to avoid the pain in her chest that came with remembrance, the gut-wrenching sense of loss that came every time she realized that she’d likely never see them again. The other part was her fear that if she kept them too close to mind, she might accidentally reveal they were still alive, and that information might get back to her father. And for their sakes, she couldn’t even trust Aren with the truth, for if he ever found cause to turn on her, he might do so by turning on them. “They’re dead.”
The glass slipped from his hand to smash against the floor. “You aren’t serious?”
Lara dropped to her knees to pick up the fragments. “Everyone who knew about my father’s plot was killed, with the exception of Serin.”
“All of them? Are you sure?”
“I left them facedown on the dinner table, surrounded by flames.” She remembered the feel of Marylyn’s golden blond hair beneath her fingers as she had moved her sister’s head out of the soup bowl. The way she, her father, and all of their party had ridden away from the compound, her sisters abandoned to luck and their own wits. A bit of glass pricked her finger and she hissed, sucking the blood from the wound before returning to the task.
Aren’s hands closed over hers. “Leave it, love. Someone else will clean it up.”
“I don’t want Eli doing it.” She picked up another fragment of glass. “He tries to do everything too quickly, and he’s sure to cut himself.”
“Then I’ll do it myself.”
The shards of glass fell from her hands, and she watched how the bits of amber liquid on them caught the light. There was still so much she hadn’t told him.
“My childhood was ugly. They tried to turn us into monsters. It might be that they succeeded.”
The only sound was the rain outside.
“That day of the attack on Serrith Island . . . There were a dozen or so dead Amaridians on the path leading up from the cove.”
“I killed them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. You were outnumbered, and your death wasn’t . . . It wasn’t part of my plan.”
He exhaled a long breath, then repeated, “Wasn’t part of your plan.”
Though Aren knew the truth and had forgiven her for it, part of Lara still feared that he’d change his mind. That these past few days were nothing but a trick: a way to show her what might have been if she’d come to this marriage without betrayal in her heart.
He drew Lara to her feet. “No one can know. About any of it. Too many of my people were against this union to begin with. If they learned you were a spy—and a trained assassin—sent to infiltrate our defenses, they’d never forgive it. They’d demand your execution, and if I didn’t agree to it . . .”
Lara felt the blood drain from her face. Not because of the threat to her life, but because of the threat to his. “Is it better for you if I go? We can fake my death, and all the troubles my being here present will be solved.”
Aren didn’t respond, and when she finally found the nerve to lift her head, it was to find him staring off into the distance, eyes unfocused. Then he shook his head sharply. “I swore a vow to you, and I intend to keep it.”
Lara’s chest tightened. “My father will send assassins for me. Anyone close to me will be in danger.”
“Not if they don’t know where you are.”
“They know I’m at Midwatch, Aren. And it’s not as impenetrable as you seem to think. My father won’t let my betrayal go easily.”
“I’m aware of Midwatch’s limitations, which is why we won’t be staying here.” He pulled her into his arms. “And your father will let it go if he believes the cost of revenge more than he wishes to pay.”
Revenge was worth any price to her father. “Let me go back to Maridrina. Let me kill him and end this.”
“I’m not using you to murder my enemies.”
“He’s my enemy, too. And the enemy of the Maridrinian people.”
“I don’t disagree.” Aren’s hand moved up and down her spine. “But assassinating your father will accomplish the exact opposite of what we’re working toward. Even if Serin can’t prove it was Ithicana, he’ll cast the blame at our feet, and it won’t be long until the Maridrinian people forget Silas the tyrant and start demanding vengeance for Silas the martyr. Your eldest brother is cut from the same cloth as your father, and I don’t intend to hand him an army set on Ithicanian blood.
“If they attacked,” he continued, “we could likely convince Valcotta to ally with us and crush them, but it would be your people who suffered. And at the end of it, we’d be back to the same place as we were fifteen years ago, our peoples hating each other.”
“So we do nothing, then?” Everything he said was true, but Lara couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.
“We watch. We prepare. But . . .” He shrugged one shoulder. “Any action we might take at this point would cause more harm than good.”
“With Valcotta attacking Maridrinian merchants attempting to land at Southwatch, my homeland will continue to go hungry.”
“It would all resolve if your father would give up the war with Valcotta. Let farmers return to their fields and tradesmen to their trades.”
But he wouldn’t. Lara knew that for certain because her father would never concede defeat.
“As it is, storm season will help by chasing the Valcottan’s back to their harbors. Vencia’s harbor is the closest of any to Southwatch, and your people will capitalize on the short breaks in the storms. Impossible as it is to believe, the storm season is better for your countrymen than the calm. Food will arrive on Maridrina’s shores.”
Aren wouldn’t lie to her—Lara believed that. She trusted him. Even if it killed her to do nothing.
He was quiet for a long time, then he said, “But there are two sides to this, Lara. Very few Ithicanians have ever left our shores. Very few of them have ever met a Maridrinian. The result is that they believe your father is the sum of your people. I need you to help me change that. I need you to make them see that Maridrinians are not our enemies. To make them want more than just an alliance of paper and words between kings, but an alliance between our people. Because that’s the only way we’ll ever find peace.”
“I don’t see how that can happen while he lives.”
“He won’t live forever.”
Lara exhaled a long breath. “But my brother, as you say, is just like him. He’ll take advantage of the utopia you envision.”
“I don’t envision a utopia, Lara. Just something better.” He kissed her shoulder, his lips warm. “It’s past time we stopped allowing our enemies to dictate our lives and start living them for those we love. And for ourselves.”
“A dream.”
“Then make it reality.” Reaching into his trouser pockets, he extracted a small silken pouch. “I have something for you.”
Lara’s head turned, her eyes widening as he extracted the delicate
links of gold, emeralds and black diamonds flashing in the light. “You mentioned a fondness for green.”
Carefully, he brushed her hair to one side and fastened the necklace around her neck. “It was my mother’s. My father had it made for her years ago, and she almost never took it off. The servants found it in their rooms after—” He broke off, shaking his head to clear the emotion. “She always said it was meant to be worn.”
Lara trailed one finger down the gold and jewels, then pulled it away, her hand balling into a fist. “I can’t take this. Ahnna should have it.”
“Ahnna hates jewelry. And besides, you’re Queen of Ithicana. You’re the one who should wear it.”
Taking her hands in his, Aren turned her toward the large mirror on the wall and pressed the fingers of her hand against the large black diamond resting at the center of her collarbone, her pulse throbbing beneath. “Northwatch.” Then he moved down the necklace, naming the larger islands as he went.
“Serrith.” He paused there, kissing her shoulder, grazing his teeth against her neck, feeling her body hitch, then press against him, her head falling back against his shoulder. “Midwatch.” Their fingers trailed over the slope of her right breast, pausing on a large emerald. He made a humming noise of consideration, then continued down the jeweled map, stopping at Southwatch, the emerald nestled in her cleavage.
“It’s yours,” he murmured into her ear. “Ithicana. Everything that I have is yours. To protect. To make better.”
“I will,” she whispered. “I promise.” Turning, Lara rested her forehead against his chest, focusing on the feel of his hands. On the sound of his heart.
Then he went still. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly. The storm has passed. Which means it will have ended south of here, so the Vencia ferrymen will already be on the water heading to Southwatch.”
So strange that she had to put her faith in the Tempest Seas, which she feared more than anything else, to protect both her peoples. Slowly, the tension seeped out of her. “Since it’s safe to go outside, I find myself fancying a proper bath.”
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