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Me and Namir continued to spend our evenings in his space, while he taught me to read and write. We stayed longer and longer each night, distracting ourselves from discussing topics that neither of us seemed willing to bring up.

Despite our avoidance of any conversation resembling sex and all other truly serious topics, we had fun together. He cracked jokes, I replied with sarcasm, and we could usually volley back and forth until we were both grinning.

But he didn’t open up about his past to me, and I didn’t open up about mine to him.

Still, every night we played around in my bed together, both of us naked as we learned to bring each other pleasure without letting our bodies truly connect.

Lavee convinced me to spend one or two days a week in her hair salon, with her and her many friends there. The fae there were chatty and gossiped like mad, but it was fun to be around them anyway. Lav had taught me how to blow hair dry with a device made for that purpose, and though I didn’t really enjoy doing it, I had to admit I was getting quite good at it.

But by the time my fifth week in the castle rolled around, I was starting to get frustrated with my situation.

Not my living situation; I loved the castle, and the city, and even the kingdom. Hell, I loved my life, there.

But I was frustrated with Namir’s practiced grins and the way he avoided discussing his past.

So, near the end of the fifth week, when we closed our lettering books, I didn’t get up with Namir. Instead, I remained seated on the couch, with my legs tucked up under my ass.

“What are you doing?” His voice was as playful as always, his hands braced on the back of his couch as he leaned a bit closer to me. There was intrigue in his eyes, and as far as I could tell, his emotions were genuine for the moment.

“I think I’ll stay in here tonight,” I remarked, turning and laying on my side on the couch, so my legs were draped over the cushions too.

“Will you?” Namir flashed me one of his playful smiles. It was one of the genuine ones, and I fucking loved those.

“Yep. You did offer it to me when I was choosing a room.”

“I did.” He leaned a bit further over the back of the couch. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“You’ve proven yourself trustworthy for the most part, and we spend every night together anyway. Might as well sleep under the stars.” I gestured toward the massive mattress that hadn’t been touched since Namir and I met.

“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to the idea,” he stood up straight, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Are you ready for bed now?”

“Mmhm,” I agreed, though I made no move to get up.

His eyes only lit up further with interest. “What game are you playing here, Love?”

It wasn’t a game—and I felt a bit bad for making him think it might be one.

“Do you remember the first time you kissed me?” I asked him. We’d spent hours and hours with our lips locked since then, our hands exploring each other’s bodies while our mouths made love.

“Of course I do.” His voice grew lower and sexier.

“Do you remember when you bit me?” He had been careful not to do so again—so, so careful.

The humor and interest in his eyes vanished completely, his body stiffening. “I think about that every single day.”

Something told me he didn’t thinkpositivelyabout it every single day.

But we were making progress, I thought. This one awkward conversation could lead to another, more awkward, more important one. And we needed that.

“So why haven’t you done it again?”

His expression darkened further. “I hurt you, Diora. I’m the fucker who’s supposed to protect you, and I hurt you.”

Now that we were getting into the meat of the conversation, I dropped the pretenses. My feet hit the floor as I stood too.

“You’ve been holding yourself back since then; I can tell. And I’m tired of this distance between us, okay? I want to see you passionate, and I want to see you lose control with me. I don’t want you to be afraid of hurting me; I didn’t survive hell to be treated like a damned ceramic doll.”

His expression darkened. “You want to see me passionate?”