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Arrik pulled her hand away and kissed her palm. “Fractured tiles on their own are ordinary, but mosaics are stunning pieces of art. We’ll pick up the pieces together.”

“Don’t say such things.” She trembled. “We’re enemies.”

“No, love. We’re inevitable.”

Her pulse leapt as he slid his hand through her hair, desire heating his gaze along with an emotion she didn’t want to name. It was much too soon for such things.

He leaned close and Wren met him halfway, their lips colliding in a kiss that made her body tingle and her soul sigh.

Arrik’s stubble scratched at her chin in an alarmingly good way as his lips eagerly molded to Wren’s. It was a bit like dancing with a new partner. A few stumbles until one found the perfect rhythm. She bit at his lower lip just hard enough that he growled into her mouth, sending a thrill down her spine. His tongue flicked across her lip and she opened to him.

Wren sank her fingers into his braids, the silver beads tickling as she tilted her head and pushed closer, desperate for more. Heat spread through her body that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with longing.

Kissing the dark elf prince brought her to life. Hot and startling life.

Wren wanted Arrik.

Neededhim, in every sense of the word.

He groaned when she caressed the tips of his pointed ears, but broke their kiss and pulled away.

“No,” Wren protested, panting heavily against Arrik’s chest. “I want—”

“I want it too, trust me,” Arrik murmured, voice so low it was barely audible.

She lifted her head, shaken to the core. There was no mistaking the desire painted across his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils.

“So then—?”

“When thishappens for real, I want it to be aboutus,not because of the ghost from your past.”

Wren flinched as if someone had doused her with ice water. Was that what she’d been doing?

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and untangled her fingers from his hair. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, mortified, “I don’t know what came over me.” Fraternizing with the enemy. Her mum would be ashamed.

Is he really the enemy?

“What came over you is the feeling I’ve had to keep restrained every time I’ve seenyoufrom the very first moment I saw you flying through the sky on your dragon.” She stared up at Arrik, hardly knowing who he was. The prince chuckled humorlessly. “I am not ashamed to admit it, but I’ll be cursed if I take you to bed for the first time while you think of another.”

This wasn’t something Wren was sure she knew how to process. “First time?”

His gaze darkened and he gave her a wolfish smile. “There will bemanytimes, my darling. Many times.” He kissed her cheek. “Thoughts for another time, though. We have much to speak of.”

She shivered. So many things had happened so fast, and now she had a moment to breathe, she realized Arrik was entirely correct. This very second was not the time for her to throw herself at him.

There would come another time. Another day, when Wren’s mind and heart were far more settled and she could make a decision based not simply on pure impulse. The prince had saved her from regret and possibly shame.

“So what happens next?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the horizon. It looked as if a storm was brewing. Wren wiggled and Arrik hissed, causing heat to rush into her cheeks. She clambered out of his lap, avoiding looking at the prince.

“Considering the uproar after Cathal’s murder—”

“So it wasn’t a hoax?” Wren interrupted him.

“No.”

Wren finally looked at Arrik. “Are you okay?”

His jaw flexed. “It is what it is. I didn’t want him to die but he is one less piece I have to worry about.”