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“Are you mad?” she breathed against his mouth.

“Absolutely,” he answered, his large hands grasping at anything he could. Her hair, her jaw, the material of her dress…

“Someone could see us.”

He let out a small laugh against her open mouth that told her he didn’t care.

Her stomach fluttered.

Emara returned his fire then, clasping her hands at the nape of his strong neck, and that’s all he needed to ensure that she wanted his wild mouth on hers. This time, the kiss was sharp and daring, and it sent a wave of dizziness over her. He wrapped a large hand around the nape of her neck, pinning his body even closer to hers as he enclosed her against the cool stone of the alcove.

He hadn’t kissed her since the waterfall, and she hadn’t realised how much she had needed it—the taste of him. A sense of earth-shattering desire flooded through every part of who she was, and her lips parted, opening further for him, to take…take everything. The effect of his kiss utterly consumed not only her mouth, but every inch of her body, and the palace around them faded away as his tongue brushed against hers. He had just gifted her a kiss that could never be removed from her lips.

Finally, he broke free, “I have wanted to do that since I saw you in that dress.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Her heavy breathing affected her efforts to speak, or even think.

“Because we wouldn’t have made it to the dinner at all if I had, and the whole palace would talk of the empress who hadn’t arrived to dine with the Supreme.” He ran his teeth along her jawline, still angling her neck with his hand. A small moan parted her lips. “That sound,” he rasped, “has been running through my mind ever since the cavern. Did you know how tortuous it was to be on a horse with you the whole journey here, knowing exactly what my name sounds like on your lips when I make you come?”

Emara’s mouth went dry. She inhaled, stomach pulling in. “That sounds like a terrible problem to have.” Her heart banged in her chest, and she cursed to herself at how much he affected her. “However, you are a trained and skilled hunter, I am sure you have endured worse.” She swallowed, her toes curling.

His blue eyes dilated in a way that made Emara forget to breathe. “You see, I don’t reckon there is a greater torture than sitting behind you, with your body so close to me, and not getting to feel you against me the way I want.”

She giggled, trying not to let another moan escape her mouth as he leaned forward and nuzzled into the soft spot in her neck, teasing her skin with his teeth.

“I would have let you,” she whispered to him in confession, her hands pressed against the coolness of the alcove to ground her. “Kiss me. Even if that meant we wouldn’t have made it to the ballroom.”

Suddenly, he stopped and pulled back from her.

A lazy smile appeared. “And I would have savoured every last minute of it.”

He spoke with a slow huskiness that made her toes curl again, and she sent up a prayer to the Gods to give her more willpower than she had now.

A cough interrupted their secret moment. “This looks cosy.”

Emara’s heart leaped, and she turned to see the Supreme’s guards standing before her. Torin didn’t react the way she thought he would, by pulling back and acting like nothing had happened. Instead, he kissed Emara’s temple and turned slowly towards his brethren from another clan. “It was.”

A knot of dread tightened in her stomach at his tone, and as she looked over his tensed back, she could feel the air pull from her own lungs. She couldn’t see much of Torin’s facial expression, but she knew it would have turned stone-like, masked, a warrior again.

“Are you not supposed to be guarding the Supreme’s witches instead of kissing them in dark nooks of the palace?” One of the guards’ eyes didn’t falter from Torin’s face; the other’s looked over her, his eyes roaming to places she didn’t want.

Emara straightened her spine.

Torin placed his hands behind his back and Emara’s eyes went straight to his fingers that were straining white, fisted. “With all due respect, she’s not your Supreme’s witch.” His sour tone made Emara take a step forward. “She’s not anyone’s property.”

The guard’s coldness snuck through even when he spoke, his beady eyes still on her. “She is her coven’s witch. She works for our queen.”

Torin sucked in a breath before a dangerous smirk revealed itself. “Your queen?” he asked. “Since when did hunters have a queen? You may work for the Supreme, guard her, but she is not your faction leader. It would do you good to remember that.” He winked towards the heavily armed guards.

One of the guards growled.

“Let’s just go, Torin.” Emara reached out and tugged on the arm of her protector.

Torin didn’t move. He didn’t move his gaze from the two guards standing before him.

Finally, the second guard broke away from the stare off to glance at Emara. “The Supreme would like to see you at once.”

“What for?” Torin questioned.