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Chapter Twenty Three

S o it wasn’t until much later, when Zynara led her through the darkened palace to her own rooms, that they found each other properly.

“Come in,” Zynara murmured. It felt like an invitation to something far more important.

The door clicked shut behind them, sealed the world out, and Lottie’s chest tightened all over again.

Zynara’s rooms were different again. Another expansive sitting room that led deeper into the suite.

High ceilings and teal-coloured walls with vast mirrors and french doors.

Tall potted plants hunched between bookshelves.

But where the Q’sar’s rooms were chaotic, Zynara’s were neat as a pin.

Still far more casual than royalty had any right to be, and equally stuffed with all the trappings of a vibrant, scientific mind—but ordered.

Lottie almost thought ‘uptight’, but there was a battered leather jacket thrown over the back of a chair.

And there were the long, sheer curtains billowing in like sails on the night breeze.

Everything here was real. Zynara was real.

And Lottie—who’d spent her life being everything to everyone—stood there, wondering if she could be real too.

Zynara turned, arms crossed, studying her in that way she did, like Lottie was a puzzle to be solved. An equation to be balanced. A risk to be assessed.

“You told him,” she said, her voice low.

“I told you too,” Lottie pointed out, half a smile pulling at her mouth. She shoved her hands into her pockets to stop herself from reaching out. “I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Zynara stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “You didn’t lie. You just didn’t tell me. Not all of it.”

She was so tall and so proud. Her poor lonely Qasira. Lottie could feel the heat of her. They were almost touching. She wanted to put her hands on Zynara’s hips and pull her in, but she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

“I didn’t want to tell you because it hurt.

My humiliating past laid bare, and the god-awful admission I only hit you up as a con.

” Lottie sighed. “And to be fair, Sami had already shared my file. He’s your personal intelligence officer, isn’t he?

You knew, and we still didn’t talk about it.

We lied to each other, princess. You see how that works, right? ”

“You were here to manipulate me,” Zynara said, but there was no malice in it. Only sadness. She knew what Lottie was now. It gutted Lottie worse than a knife ever could.

Lottie nodded.

“Just promise me you’re not still trying to do that.” Zynara reached out, brushing her fingers along Lottie’s jaw like she was committing her to memory.

Lottie screwed up her eyes.

There was an awful silence.

“ Are you still trying to manipulate me?”

Lottie suddenly wheeled away, her hands in her hair, her beautiful future still balancing on an edge.

“Agh!” she cried. “Look at us both, princess. We’re hopeless.

Two strong, powerful women—sexy as fuck, mind you—but trapped in our own dilemmas.

You are the best and only person to rule Ain Zargiers.

You know it. I know it. But if I suggest you do, you’ll think I’m exploiting you.

If I don’t” —she blew out a harsh breath— “Agh, I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I don’t persuade you.

There’s so much at stake! Your country, your businesses, quite possibly your life if your idiot brother doesn’t settle down, net-fucking-zero, the whole damn planet, my job, my actual life—you have no idea how fucking scary my boss can be— And…

and us. ” She looked at Zynara still standing stiffly in the middle of the room. “There is an us, isn’t there?”

It was Zynara’s turn to hold the agony of the moment.

“If I am to be Q’sar,” she gritted eventually, but she paused.

Lottie crumbled. “I know! I know ,” she wailed.

“The Q’sar of Ain Zargiers can’t be involved with a worthless, useless spy like me.

I understand. I accept that. I’m not good, princess.

Whatever you think I am, it’s not something you need in your life.

I am so full of shit. I lie and steal and kill.

I subvert governments, entrap politicians and blackmail princes.

I get paid to flirt with royalty, Zynara. I’m rubbish.”

Zynara ignored all of that. “ If I am to be Q’sar,” she repeated, “will you leave me to do it all alone?”

Lottie gaped at her. Was that what Zynara was scared of?

“Oh,” she said, stupidly.

“Because I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

“I will be wherever you want me to be,” Lottie whispered. “Here, if you’ll have me. Right by your side, if that’s allowed. I will be wherever, whatever and whoever you tell me to be.”

Zynara closed the space between them with two long strides. “Not the way I want you,” she whispered. “I fell in love with you way back in a bar in London. I fell for a girl who sang like an angel. Who was that girl?”

“That was me.” Lottie breathed it like a prayer. She’d felt the same thing. “I knew you were my queen even before I found out you were a princess.”

Zynara’s mouth twitched. She tipped her chin up. “Idiot,” she murmured, gently. Her fingers were warm. She was watching Lottie’s lips

Lottie felt everything fall into place. She let the tension slip from her body, and her swagger flow back in. But she had to be sure. “You’re the idiot, princess, if you think wanting me is a good idea.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Zynara said simply. “You don’t get to decide what I want.”

And then she kissed her.

“I want you.”

Lottie wasn’t used to this level of bare, emotional openness.

She was in borrowed clothes—plain, sensible underwear the hospital had sourced for her after their ordeal.

She’d never seduced a woman in anything less than satin and lace.

The heels and the tight, tiny dresses were cover—deep down, she’d always known that—but she’d never actually done the opposite.

She’d never stood in front of anyone she loved in cheap polycotton and navy blue briefs.

Scratch that—she’d never stood in front of anyone she loved.

Somehow, it was the most dangerous thing she’d ever done.

“Off,” Zynara murmured. She flicked her fingers at Lottie’s body, and Lottie didn’t even try to hide the rush that swept through her.

Her strong and decisive Qasira was back, and Lottie adored her like that—forceful and masterly.

They were still standing in the middle of Zynara’s room, the lights low, the breeze heavy with the scent of jasmine.

Lottie tugged off a sweater and dropped track pants to the floor. She felt slightly foolish.

Zynara’s head tipped to the side and dragged her eyes slowly up and down her body.

“And the rest.”

Lottie stripped to her skin and gave it all to Zynara—the medical adhesives on her knees, the antiseptic on her thigh staining her skin an ugly yellow, the bruises a deep, dark blue.

She caught sight of herself in one of the wood-framed mirrors leaning against the walls.

Oh, god . She was a mess.

Zynara didn’t agree. “My beautiful, brave, knight protector,” she whispered.

“I’ll be very careful with you.” She stepped closer and put her fingers under Lottie’s chin.

She tipped it up. Lottie could see the exhaustion in her eyes and remembered Zynara had been through far worse today than she had.

“How about we be careful with each other?” she suggested. “I don’t want to play games with you anymore.”

“You don’t want to play games?” Zynara smirked and raised one imperious eyebrow.

It was the final flicker of her act. She let her fingers trail painfully slow down Lottie’s throat, over her collarbone to her breast. She circled it—feather-light—tips of her fingers, backs of her knuckles, then the greedy press of her thumb and a full-handed grab. She squeezed.

Lottie sucked in a breath, and it pushed her harder into Zynara’s hand. Zynara’s lips fell open.

“Well, those games, fuck yeah,” Lottie breathed. She blushed at Zynara’s proud chuckle. “But no other games. I would gladly swallow every lie I’ve ever told just to be truthful to you forever.”

Zynara’s expression crumpled. Her eyes darted between Lottie’s, desperately searching for truth, and Lottie regretted every play she’d ever made.

“Believe me, Niz. Please. I love you.” She stepped into Zynara’s embrace and slid her arms over her shoulders, pressing their hips together.

She felt eternity in the perfect way Zynara’s hands fell to her waist. Their foreheads touched and their noses bumped softly together.

It was sweet, soft and sensual—all things Lottie barely knew—but it was everything she wanted.

“Let’s just do this gently. Every atom of me is yours and I give myself to you. ”

Zynara nodded, and Lottie stepped back to carefully, reverently, peel the clothes from her body—

—and she winced at the appalling seatbelt bruise beginning to blossom on her chest.

“Oh, Niz,” she whispered. She ducked her head to kiss it better.

There was a scattering of tiny cuts around Zynara’s throat and at the V of her neck. Lottie kissed those as well, and a cut on her shoulder blade. Her magnificent Qasira was as black and blue as she was.

They looked at themselves in the mirror.

“We’re a disaster,” Zynara snorted softly.

“We’re unstoppable,” Lottie corrected.

Acceptance finally dawned with a crooked smile, and Zynara gave a gentle huff. “I like you, Lottie Finch.”

Lottie rolled her eyes.

Zynara swatted her arse.

“ Like?! Princess, I’m baring my soul here.”

The hand on her backside squeezed. Zynara peered over Lottie’s shoulder at it. “Is that what you call it? It’s fucking gorgeous.”

Lottie laughed and gave up. She took Zynara’s hand and drew her toward the bed.

Gentle didn’t last long at all.

It wasn’t that they were playing, it was more that Zynara’s towering need for control was wholly natural—her genuine state—and that Lottie lived and died for being possessed.