Page 49

Interrupted by the Arrival of an Old... Friend?

I wake, enveloped in warm, strong arms. Light is filtering through the curtains. I’ve had my first deep, dreamless sleep since we arrived.

Hell, maybe since I woke up three years ago.

Khaosti is awake; I can tell from the tenseness of his muscles. We’re wrapped around each other, my thigh flung over his hips so I can feel that he’s hot and hard beneath my leg.

I can’t resist a wriggle, and he groans.

So I do it again.

Suddenly, I’m on my back, and he’s looming over me, his tousled black hair falling over his forehead, his golden eyes sleepy. “Good morning.”

I blink up at him, speechless. He has that effect on me; he steals the words from my mouth. I moisten my lips with the tip of my tongue, and he groans again.

He lowers his head and kisses me slowly, and my body heats up, going languid and boneless. His lips part mine, his tongue pushing inside, and flames lick over me. I feel them in my breasts, in my belly, and my hips rise to press against him.

He deepens the kiss, and I slide my tongue along his. He drops more kisses along my jaw, then burrows his face against my throat and bites my skin, licks it, and I’m lost.

He goes still, and I almost growl. If he calls me a little girl now, I’ll likely kick him in the balls. Then someone thumps on the door, and the flames flicker and die.

Not fair.

Khaosti eases himself off me just as Hecate calls from outside, “Prince, remove yourself from that bed where you have no right to be and get out here. You have a visitor.”

“Fuck,” he mutters.

He sits up and scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Now,” Hecate shouts, and her footsteps stamp down the hall.

I haven’t moved. Khaosti turns to look at me, a rueful smile on his gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to kiss you again.”

I glare at him through narrowed eyes.

He shrugs. “I slept well. That’s not happened for a long time. So, thank you.”

I push my disappointment away. Maybe it’s for the best. We have things to resolve between the two of us. The truth is I know so little about him—what he wants, what he believes in, what I mean to him. He’s starting to open up, but there’s a long way to go. So maybe it’s not the time for us to get any closer physically. I have a feeling making love with Khaos will alter me in some fundamental way. I suspect I’m going to have to make some tough decisions soon, and I can’t guarantee that what I decide will align with what Khaosti wants.

I sigh and sit up. “I did as well. Who knew that cuddling up with a werewolf could be so restful?”

He snorts. I don’t wait for a response but just get up and head to the bathroom. When I get back, he’s gone.

I find them in the kitchen: Khaosti and Hecate, and… I come to an abrupt halt because I recognize the other man sitting beside Khaosti. It’s Trystan, Khaosti’s friend. I met him that first night. He’s the one who wanted to cuff me, and I scowl. I head across and pour myself a coffee, then pull out the seat next to Hecate. It’s a little like drawing battle lines—us against them.

I glance at Khaosti’s face; he doesn’t seem happy to see his friend. His expression is closed off, tense.

“So, what’s happening?” I ask when I become fed up with waiting for someone to tell me.

Khaosti sighs. “What are you doing here, Trystan? I told you to go home.”

Trystan is a good-looking guy, with dark blond hair pulled into a ponytail and clear blue eyes, but something about him rubs me the wrong way. A flash of anger flickers behind his eyes at Khaosti’s question.

“I was ordered to report to the palace,” he says.

“My father?”

“Who else? He’s not happy.”

“What did he want?”

“To know where you and the girl are.” He casts me a glance, and his expression turns ugly.

“You told him about Amber?” Khaosti’s tone is curt.

“What was I supposed to do? Lie? Because that always goes so well. If you remember, the last person who lied to your father was tossed off the palace roof.”

I’m really beginning not to like Khaosti’s father. A lot.

“It’s not as though I could tell him much,” Trystan continues. “You haven’t exactly confided in me.” There’s an edge of bitterness there.

My stomach rumbles, and everyone looks at me. “What? I’m hungry.” Dinner had been disturbed by the last visitor. I wonder how he is and turn to Hecate.

“Stefan—”

But she shakes her head, and I know he’s dead. My appetite vanishes. I didn’t know him well, but it doesn’t seem fair. “I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing I could do. To some, the bite of the shadowguard is lethal. Now eat—you need your strength.”

Khaosti is tense, his shoulders rigid.

“Can I talk to you?” Trystan says. He looks across the table at Hecate and me, then back to Khaosti. “Alone.”

I think Khaosti is going to refuse. I hope he does, but then the tension goes out of him, and he gets to his feet. “We’ll go for a walk.” He looks straight at me for the first time since I entered the room, and a faint frown crosses his face. “Don’t worry.”

He turns and strides out. Trystan gets up hurriedly and follows him.

I finish the rest of my bread and then sit back and turn to Hecate. “Where did he come from?”

“He was picked up this morning, just outside the wards.”

“He was lucky the shadowguard didn’t get him.”

“Very lucky,” she murmurs. I give her a sharp glance, but she doesn’t say any more.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“Not to me. Just demanded to see the prince. Arrogant fucker.”

I grin at that. “I’m surprised you let him in.”

“I thought about leaving him out there. But then I decided we might learn something useful from him. I’d love to know what Khronus is up to right now. If he knows his son is with me, he will not be happy. In fact, there’s a good chance he’s shitting his pants.”

“You know Khaosti’s father?”

“Once we knew each other well. But that was a long time ago. Another life.” She sighs and gets to her feet, a closed-off expression falling over her face like a mask. She gets that way sometimes. I know the memories make her sad, and I can’t help but wonder what happened back then. But I know from experience that I won’t get anything further from her.

“Where are Winter and Thanouq?” I ask.

“Winter has gone to the temple, and Thanouq is checking the wards.”

I get to my feet as well. Everyone has something important to do. Except me. All I have to do is remember, and I can’t even do that.

Suddenly I’m restless. “I’m going for a run.”

I run until I’m exhausted, then I head for the stable and Stella. I find her company soothing. A shadow falls across us, and I glance up to see Khaosti standing in the doorway. He’s alone.

“What have you done with your friend?” I ask.

“Murdered him and buried him in the vegetable plot.”

“Good. I don’t like him.”

He grins. “The feeling is mutual. He thinks you’re trouble.”

More than he could possibly imagine—or is that just wishful thinking? “What do you think?”

“I know you’re trouble. I just haven’t worked out what sort of trouble yet.”

“Who is he exactly?” I ask.

He shifts a little, as though he knows I’m not going to like his answer. “He’s my liege man. My body servant.”

What does that even mean? “He’s a guardian like Khendril?”

“No, he’s pure blood but from one of the lesser families.”

“Let me get this straight. He’s your servant. Like Brown? Are you really so helpless that you can’t look after yourself?”

“It’s tradition.”

I give Stella a last stroke of her velvet nose and wander over to him. “You know, traditions are just a way of life that develops because of certain conditions. They’re historically interesting but not to be adhered to if those conditions change. You Astrali types need to get a life and move with the times.”

A smile flickers across his face, but it’s gone in moments. He’s still tense. I’m guessing the meeting with Trystan didn’t go too well. “He’s also my friend. He’s been with me all my life. We grew up together, and he has my best interests at heart.”

I don’t argue with that, but I also don’t agree. I sense a darkness in Trystan. A bitterness. Maybe he doesn’t like being a servant. I certainly wouldn’t. “Is he a wolf? Like you?”

“No. He doesn’t have a beast. Some don’t.”

I’m sort of glad about that. The idea of Trystan as a wolf is scary. But I’m guessing it’s one more thing that adds to his bitterness, his feeling of inferiority. “Why is he here?” I ask. “What does he want?”

“He brought a message from my father. He orders me home. And he expects me to bring you with me.”

“And are you going?” I don’t ask if he’s taking me with him because, guess what—that’s not happening. I’m not helpless or alone anymore, and I’m not going near Khaosti’s father.

“I don’t know,” Khaosti replies.

I don’t like that answer. In fact, I hate it.

But there’s nothing I can do if he decides to leave. It’s his choice. I don’t want him to go. But I won’t beg. And maybe it’s better if he goes. Maybe I won’t feel so conflicted.

Anyway, everybody has always left me. Why should he be any different? God, I’m full of self-pity today.

“Just don’t expect me to tag along with you. That’s never going to happen.”

And I leave him standing there.