Page 32

Move. Do something. Scream!

He must have seen her thoughts flit across her face because his brows slashed down and he shook his head slowly. Wren opened her mouth, and he slapped his other hand over her lips and bared his teeth, releasing a low, soft growl.

A warning that sent a shiver down her spine.

Slowly, very slowly, Arrik bodily moved Wren until she was pressed between him and a tree, out of sight of the now fast-approaching assailants. The bark bit into her back and her heart thundered as she labored to breathe. Arrik’s attention snapped to the left and she followed his gaze. She stiffened as several soldiers came into view.

Was he hiding from his own men?

Wren frowned and turned her attention to the prince. She studied his ferocious profile as he tracked the soldiers’ movements. Even now, he was attractive. High cheekbones, full lips, a jaw that could cut glass.

He destroyed your family.

Evil shouldn’t be so beautiful. It was disgusting.

The soldiers moved closer and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second.

This was it. Arrik had her. She was surrounded.

So then why is he hiding you and willing you to keep silent?

She snapped her eyes open and watched, heart in her throat as the soldiers paraded past where the two of them were hiding. Her pulse thundered in her ears when he turned and his pale silver braids tumbled into her face. His scent, fresh sweat intermingled with sage and citrus, assaulted her. It should have been repulsive.

It wasn’t.

The sound of his breath was calm, heavy, and collected, where Wren’s was rapid and fleeting. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest. He turned his attention on her.

The prince loomed over Wren, his ice-blue eyes piercing daggers into hers. There were bruise-colored shadows beneath those eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in months. That observation satisfied her. After all the crimes he’d committed, the beast didn’t deserve to have a decent night’s sleep.

Lastly, Wren focused on how Arrik felt pressed against her. He wasn’t wearing plated armor—only supple, deeply tanned leather—so she could feel every inch of his tightly-muscled body against her. She wanted to wriggle away but knew, instinctively, that would only make things worse.

He held her gaze and warmth bloomed in her stomach as he studied her face. His lips turned down as if he wasn’t pleased by what he saw there. She prickled and glared up at him. He didn’t get to judge her. Not now, not ever.

Her husband readjusted his grip on her mouth and winced slightly.

Wren kept her expression fixed in place.

Was he hurt? If so, she could use that to her advantage. At his full strength and at such close quarters, there was no chance of Wren overpowering her foe. But if Arrik were hurt…

She might stand a chance.

The soldiers faded from sight and the forest descended into silence.

Wren thought he might finally give her some breathing space, but he didn’t budge. She stared at the hollow of his throat for a few seconds, trying to work out how she was going to escape. He had the advantage, but it was clear he didn’t want to attract the soldiers’ attention any more than she did.

Maybe there was an easier way out of this. The prince seemed to have been warming toward her in the palace before she’d betrayed him. It was clear he liked her body. Perhaps she could seduce him. Her stomach knotted at the idea.

Do what you must to escape.

Wren exhaled heavily through her nose and lifted her chin to look at her dark elf husband through her lashes.

She blinked slowly when Arrik’s proud face was contorted into the most lascivious expression Wren had ever seen. His eyes were clouded with something that might been desire, or possessiveness, or victory, or all three. Just a hint of color crossed his cheeks, his full lips quirked into the barest of smiles. Wren could see the sharp points of his canines. When he noticed where her attention was, he licked his lips.

Wren couldn’t look away. What had caused that kind of reaction? She’d not even started her seduction. She took stock of their positions and blushed. Her entire body had curved into his without her knowing, and she hated it.

The man’s a monster.

A few strands of Arrik’s pale hair—normally pulled back into perfect braids—blew in the wind, softening the sharp angles of his face.A monster.