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She sat sensually against the bed like the Gods themselves had hand-delivered her as a test. His pulse pounded against the veins in his neck, his temperature rising with every second that he drank her in. Emara’s tempting nightdress exposed more skin on her thighs than he thought he could handle. She had the kind of curves that intimidated a boy and sent a real man wild. He wasn’t intimidated by any of it. He was entranced.

Her eyes were on him too, analysing his reaction. He didn’t care how he looked as he ran a hand over his jaw, unable to hide the expression on his face.

“That…is…a very dangerous game you are playing, angel.” He kept his eyes on her face as her lips parted a second before she spoke.

“I know,” she responded, the lyrical lull of her tone light, keeping their eye contact unbroken.

He hadn’t expected her to admit that she was playing him, but she had said it so confidently that she even had him fooled.

“Are you sure you want to play this game?” He took his time as he walked over to where she sat. “I have been known to be the winner,” He leaned down, so close to her face, and placed a hand on either side of the wood, barricading her in. “Every time.”

“Not this time,” she said, not even a stain of colour flushing her cheeks.

She was getting good at this—very fucking good, indeed.

Emara lifted a hand to his face and ran a thumb over his jaw and then down to his chin.

His heart pounded.

Why did the Gods send her? Why? Thorin, why?

He was about to crumble to his knees, but he managed to keep his front for a little bit longer.

“We shall see about that.” He straightened. With one hand, he reached up to his collar, unbuttoning the fabric of his grey tunic. Lifting it from the back of his neck, he pulled, taking it over his head. He threw it onto the ground and watched as her beautiful, cosmic eyes explored his body, changing colour from a light grey to a fiery darkness. The longer she lingered, the deeper the lust grew on her face.

That’s the reaction he had been looking for.

She wanted this just as much as he did.

Squaring her shoulders, she stood, taking Torin by surprise, and he moved back with her, giving her space. She was much smaller than him, and if he really wanted to, he could pick her up and throw her onto the bed. But he refrained, awaiting her next move in their dangerous little game.

To be fair to Emara, this was the best game of ‘who was going to crack first’ he had ever played, without a single doubt. Every other time, it had only taken him looking at someone a certain way and it was game over. So he delivered his game over smile.

But she didn’t flinch.

Not Emara. Not his angel.

Instead, she moved her hand from her thigh, up to her navel, travelling up her waist, circling in sensual little swirls as it reached her breast. She tugged at the lace of her nightgown strap, and it fell off of her shoulder, sliding gently down her golden skin. She threw him a sensual smile, knowing exactly what she was doing.

And that’s all it took.

One fucking lacey strap and Torin Blacksteel, second-in-command of the Blacksteel Hunting Clan, was undone. He moved towards her, his legs unwilling to stop. And she fired up her hand, halting him in his tracks.

Evidently, he would stop if she commanded it. He would rack his brains later for the answers to why he took orders from her and barely from his own commander. Not now, not when she looked so beautifully distracting.

A dominant, smug smile pulled her lips into the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

How the fuck is she about to win this? Torin didn’t care. He would let her win, even if it meant she would give him nothing but a small kiss. One. Just one. Just enough.

Who was he kidding? It would never be enough.

“Say them,” he begged, his nostrils flaring. Those two little words he had promised not to cross the line for until he heard them from her mouth.

Kiss me.

“Say them,” he pleaded again.

“Do you not want to play anymore?” she said mockingly, pulling at the other strap on her nightwear. He watched it fall down her other shoulder and he envisioned himself licking where it lay.