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“I regret it. I swear to the gods,I regret it.”

Before I could reply, he was grabbing the front of my coat, yanking me deeper into his room, pulling me nearly flush with his body. And like a floodgate opening, the confessions began falling from his lips, his growl of a voice sending shivers racing over my skin.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a second,” he said, his grip on me shifting, his hands slipping underneath my coat, taking hold of my hips. “I’ve barely eaten. Or slept. All I’ve really done is think about how badly I wanted to follow you into your room last night and make you forget everything outside of it. How badly I wanted to make you forgeteverythingexcept me, to bury myself so deeply inside of you that my name would be the only thing left for you to gasp out. To fall asleep, still inside of you, and then wake up and do it all over again.”

I was breathing too hard, my heart pounding too fast, to properly reply.

“I’m tired of fighting with you, Nova.I want you. More than I should, more than makes sense, more than any godsdamn sword or kingdom or anything else.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that we’re on two separate sides of a war. I don’t see how we both win—”

“I don’t care about winning.” His lips crashed against mine, pressing so completely they sealed away any chance of properly breathing. I was dizzy when he finally pulled away and whispered, “I concede defeat.”

The walls spun around me.

He cupped his hands against my face, steadying me as he kissed me again, slower this time.

“I don’t know what’s going on outside of this room,” he said against my lips, his voice low and ragged, “but…stay. Just stay here. Don’t make me beg.”

I closed my eyes against the spinning, leaning my forehead into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around me, enveloping me in the scent of him and his soap; a bright burst of citrus—fresh, tangy, clean. Underneath it lay his more familiar earthy scent, grounding the brightness. Warmth overtook me as I breathed it in—a warmth unlike anything I’d ever felt. The bright blaze of lust was there, gods help me it wasalwaysthere, but something else had started smoldering underneath it. Something more like a steady, constant glow that I could settle into.

Something that made me think of home.

“Do you even know how to beg, Light King?” I murmured against him.

He laughed softly. “For you, I would manage it.”

I lifted my head. He brushed a hand across my cheek. Threaded his fingers into my hair. His eyes burned into mine, their golden color even more mesmerizing than usual—because I knew he saw nothing else but me in that moment.

Hewantednothing else.

“Stay,” he repeated. “Please stay. And we can figure out the rest later.”

I’d already made up my mind.

I walked back to the door. Closed it. Locked it. Every inch of me was trembling. I didn’t know what happened next. I justknew I didn’t want us to be interrupted—that I wouldn’tsurviveanother interruption.

I turned back around, and the sight of him expectant and waiting for me took my breath away all over again.

He held out his hand. I stepped forward and took it, letting him pull me in. My palm came to rest flat on his chest. His free hand slid around to my backside, cupping my curves, bringing my body firmly to his once more.

I gazed up at him. “You concede defeat.”

“Yes.”

“I win.”

He brushed a hand across my cheek. “You do.”

“And what have I won, exactly?”

The smile that crossed his face was nearly my complete, instant undoing.

Wordlessly, he led me over to the long, cushioned bench that stood at the foot of his bed. Pausing here, his hands roamed over my body, removing my coat, undoing the belt cinching my dress, deftly unfastening the buttons at the back of that dress so he could slide it down.

My head tipped back. My eyes closed as he trailed kisses along my bared shoulders before moving lower, taking hold of my dress as he did, rolling it down along with the supportive binding underneath. The fabric bunched up beneath my breasts, pushing them up to meet his eager mouth. He curved a hand around each breast in turn, gripping them possessively, while rough strokes of his tongue turned their satiny tips into stiff peaks.

A soft moan escaped me.