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CHAPTER TWO

KAZ

I followed Talia down the corridor, her hips swaying with a confidence that seemed almost defiant. Each step brought us further from the throne room and closer to what awaited us.

The consummation.

The thought sent a jolt of heat through me that I immediately tried to smother with guilt. This woman was Javed’s sister. I’d killed her brother. And now I was expected to bed her.

What the hell have I done?

Talia stopped before an ornate door and pushed it open without hesitation. I followed her inside, scanning the room automatically for exits and threats. Old habits.

It was a large suite, clearly her personal chambers rather than some guest room. The walls were lined with bookshelves interrupted by tall windows that looked out over the gardens. A massive four-poster bed dominated one side of the room, while a sitting area with plush chairs occupied the other.

Talia kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief that seemed startlingly intimate, then reached up to unpin her hair. Dark waves cascaded down her back, transforming her from prim and proper princess to something wilder, more dangerous.

My mouth went dry. She was stunning, there was no denying it.

Light red skin that seemed to glow from within.

Delicate black horns curling from her temples like an artist’s brushstrokes.

Her tail, slimmer than mine, moved with a languid grace that drew the eye.

And her scent—jasmine and embers—filled the room, wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

Stop it. She’s not for you to admire. Not really.

She crossed to one of the chairs and draped herself across it like a cat claiming territory. Everything about her posture screamed indifference, from the tilt of her chin to the loose dangle of her fingers over the chair’s arm.

It was as much a mask as the demure princess act she’d put on for her father. I recognized the performance because I’d spent my life doing the same, showing only what others needed to see, keeping the rest locked away. Nobody trusted a panicked leader.

But what was she hiding?

“Are you going to stand there all night?” she asked, one eyebrow arched in challenge.

I remained with my back against the door, keeping a respectable distance between us. “I killed your brother.”

The words hung in the air between us, ugly and unavoidable. Better to name the dragon in the room than pretend it wasn’t there, breathing fire on everything.

Something flickered across her face, too quick to read, before her expression settled into practiced blankness. “Yes, you did.”

“And now we’re mated.” My mate. Fires below, she was my mate.

“Your powers of observation are truly remarkable,” she drawled, examining her nails. “Is this what counts as expertise in your clan?”

I ignored the jab. “How can you stand to be in the same room as me?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, and for a moment, I glimpsed something raw and honest in them. Then it was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable mask.

“My brother brought his fate upon himself,” she said simply. “We’ll carry on without him.”

I hadn’t expected that. Javed had been cruel, yes. And gods, once the full truth of his bullshit came out, I’d have torn the court apart to keep Rava from his grasp, ancient agreements and honor be damned. But to hear his own sister speak of him with such clinical detachment...

“Still,” I pressed, “I took your brother’s life. I took your family’s heir.”

“And now you’re the heir.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut. “Funny how things work out.”

The casual way she referenced the position I’d— we’d —just been forced into set my teeth on edge. Did she think I’d orchestrated this? That I’d killed Javed as part of some elaborate scheme to seize power?

Fuck, I hated this shit. Politics and lies and all the damn intrigue. Give me a straightforward fight any day. At least I knew where I stood when blood was spilled and blades drawn.

The silence stretched between us, taut as a bowstring. I cleared my throat.

“Drink?” she asked, gesturing toward a decanter on a nearby table.

I moved mechanically and poured two glasses of amber liquid, my mind racing. This woman was my mate now. Mine to protect and provide for. Mine to know. And yet I knew almost nothing about her beyond her lineage and what little intelligence my clan had gathered over the years.

Princess Talia Fitsum. The quiet one. The sister who’d happily faded into the background of court politics. Or so we’d thought.

Looking at her now—the gleam in her eyes, the perfect posture even as she lounged—I wondered how we’d underestimated her. There was clearly more to her careful demeanor than simple survival.

I handed her one of the glasses, our fingers brushing briefly. Even that small contact sent a surge of heat through me. Insistent, demanding need licked at my insides. I pulled back sharply, unable to meet her eyes.

Damn it all, I needed to get a grip. Yes, Talia was my mate.

And yes, in another time and another life, I’d happily fuck her on every surface in the room.

But I couldn’t ignore the fact that she was Javed’s sister.

That we’d been thrown together under less-than-ideal circumstances.

And that there was every possibility she wanted as little to do with me as I did her.

So why did the thought leave me cold?

I retreated to a safe distance and took a long swallow of my drink, welcoming the burn. “Tell me about Leona.”

Talia’s eyes tracked my movement across the room. The corners of her mouth quirked up, quickly hidden behind the rim of her glass. “Leona Cadum. Daughter of the Malum clan. Twenty-two. Recently graduated from university.”

“Why would someone take her?”

“Why does anyone take a noble daughter?” She shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Ransom. Political leverage. Personal vendetta.”

I moved to the window, using the excuse of studying the gardens below. The weight of her gaze followed me, and I couldn’t tell if she was watching me as a potential threat or something else entirely. Her interest felt dangerous, and not just because of the mate bond humming between us.

“Your father seemed concerned with her return.”

“The Malum clan has been loyal to the throne for generations.” She shifted in her seat, the sound as much an accusation as if she’d lobbed the words at my head: Unlike the Kadhans.

“Leona was to be mated within the year. Formal suitors were being considered. Return her, and you potentially cultivate favor with two families in one go.”

I turned to face her. “Maybe she didn’t want the male chosen for her.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose. “So? If it is good enough for their queen, then they should be happy to fulfill their duties.”

The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

I studied her more closely, seeing past the mask to the rigid set of her shoulders and the tight line of her jaw.

I couldn’t fault her logic. Not really. Most of those in power were happy to let others do as they ordered, and then fuck off to do as they pleased.

There was honesty in leading by example.

A small whiff, strongly covered by the bullshit of tradition and propriety, but honesty nonetheless.

“Is that what you believe?” I asked quietly.

Her eyes narrowed. “What I believe is irrelevant. What matters is what I do.”

“And what you do is whatever your father commands.” I shouldn’t antagonize her. None of this was her fault. I did this. I took her brother’s head. And now we were both paying the price.

But something about her cool acceptance of our situation grated on me.

“As you’ve done,” she countered, rising from her chair. “Or was there some other reason you agreed to claim me as your mate today?”

I set my glass down harder than necessary. “You know why I agreed.”

“To protect your sister.” Her lip curled in a sneer. “How noble.”

“Would you rather I’d refused? Left you to whatever fate your father had planned next?” I pushed off from the wall, stalking closer. “Don’t pretend this is what you wanted, princess.”

Her eyes flashed. “What I wanted? What I wanted was to be seen as more than a womb to continue the bloodline. What I wanted was to be judged on my merits rather than my gender.” Another step closer. “What I wanted was the throne that should have been mine after you cleared out the competition.”

This, this finally felt like the first time seeing her.

No masks, no composure. Just her. Fierce, ambitious, and deeply, murderously, frustrated.

Fire crackled in her eyes with every slinking step she took to close the distance.

She craned her neck to glare daggers up at me, and that look would forever be seared into my mind.

“Instead,” she continued, “I get to watch a mercenary sit in my rightful place while I play the dutiful mate.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

“In the other scenarios, I’d at least have been taken away to some lord’s manor and allowed to run it as I saw fit.

A queen in my much smaller domain. But now?

” She gestured between us. “There is no hiding from my diminished status while tending to the male sitting in my seat.”

I wanted to taste her rage.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth, then back up.

Yeah, I fucking wanted that.

And she wanted it too.

I don’t know which of us moved first, but suddenly we were a tangled mess of limbs and lips and tongues.

Fire sizzled along my nerve endings wherever we touched.

Every instinct roared at me to strip her bare, bend her over the nearest available surface, and bury myself inside her. Claim her, mark her, make her mine.

I groaned into her mouth, and gods. She tasted like fire and spice, like everything I’d ever wanted and everything I shouldn’t have. But her hands were in my hair, pulling me closer, and I was drowning in the heat of her.

She broke the kiss, her breathing as ragged as mine. For a moment, we just stared at each other, both stunned by the intensity of what had just happened.