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Chapter Thirty-One

S he slumped into her chair the moment her advisors left, pressing her fingertips against her temples where a headache throbbed with increasing intensity. The day's events had worn her down to raw nerves—the fight with Zexx, the panicked search through the city, the tense walk back to the tower, and now the interminable meeting with Vellen and Taal.

The last rays of sunlight filtered through the high windows, stippling golden patterns across the stone floor that belied the icy dread pooling in her stomach. For over an hour, her advisors had spoken in increasingly urgent tones about the danger Zexx posed—not just to the peace, but to her position as chancellor.

"His very presence inflames tensions," Vellen had insisted, his usually placid face flushed with apparent concern. "The common people see him as a symbol of our weakness, of our capitulation to barbarians who spent generations raiding our borders."

Taal had nodded gravely, adding, "The council is growing restless. There are whispers, Chancellor, about the ambassador’s presence here. Whispers that could become shouts if not addressed quickly."

The memory of their words made her blood boil anew. The veiled threats had grown less veiled as the meeting progressed, culminating in Taal's parting statement: "We cannot shield you from the consequences if you continue on this path, Chancellor. Send the Dothvek back to the sands where he belongs."

Her fingers curled into fists atop her desk. If Zexx was right—and in her heart, she knew he was—these men were not warning her but threatening her. Setting the stage for her removal if she didn't comply with their demands.

Yet was there truth in their warnings, regardless of their motives? Her people did have a long history of hatred toward the Dothveks. The peace was new, fragile, a seedling that could be trampled by the first strong wind of public opinion. While the females at the reception had found Zexx appealing, their desire alone couldn't protect him if the citizenry turned against his presence—or against her for harboring him.

Could she risk everything—the peace, her position, the stability of their city—for the sake of her feelings for one man?

The door to her office swung open without the customary knock, interrupting her spiral of anxious thoughts. She straightened, prepared to snap that she had not approved any further meetings, assuming K’Nar had returned with yet another crisis demanding her attention.

Instead, Zexx filled the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking view of the corridor beyond. The sight of him sent a flutter through her chest that had nothing to do with surprise.

"Zexx," she breathed, rising to her feet. "I didn't expect—"

He closed the door behind him with one hand, his eyes never leaving hers as he crossed the room in long strides. The intensity in his gaze made her words falter and die in her throat.

"I need to apologize," she said quickly, suddenly nervous that he had come to confront her about her earlier outburst. "What I said before—accusing you of manipulating me—it was unforgivable. I was afraid and I lashed out, but that's no excuse. I understand if you're still angry with me, and you have every right to be--"

Her rambling apology was cut short as he reached her, his hands cupping her face as he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so forceful it bent her backward over her desk. The taste of him—wild and spiced, like nothing she'd ever known before him—flooded her senses, driving coherent thought from her mind.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. "You're forgiven," he said, his voice a husky growl that sent heat pooling low in her abdomen. He traced his thumb along the curve of her cheek as if memorizing the contours of her face. "Your anger doesn’t matter. It only matters that you came for me."

The vulnerability in his voice made her heart ache. "I will never lash out at you again,” she promised, turning to press a kiss into his palm. "I was angry at the truth, not at you. Never at you."

Zexx kissed her again, his lips gentle now, and she realized with startling clarity that she would give it all up—the chancellorship, the power, the responsibility—for more of him, more of this. The thought should have terrified her, this willingness to sacrifice everything she'd worked for, everything she'd believed defined her.

Instead, it felt like freedom.