Page 90 of The Gathering

“Why would I be?” Bala said, sarcasm in her tone.

A quiet scoff left Lex, and she shook her head. “I don’t play games, Balandria,” she said. “I—“

“Then tell me why you lied to me,” Bala interjected.

Lex stepped up to her. “Would it change anything?” she asked. “I still did not come to your room. Nothing I say will turn back time.”

Bala started to respond, but Lex did something then that Bala never expected. Her hands brushed Bala’s arms, and the Second Sun knelt before her.

“So let me make it up to you,” Lex said, her doe eyes brightening when she leaned forward to kiss Bala’s knuckles.

Bala’s stomach fluttered seeing her like that, and she felt her chin lift.

“After dark.”

Draven clapped his hand over Aydra’s mouth as he picked her up against the wall, the victory and adrenaline of the meeting pushing the both of them over the edge. They were in the servants’ hall, the rest of Haerland still mingling not five feet away on the other side of the unlocked door.

He kissed and bit at her throat, and her muffled moan made his hair stand on end. Her hands were in his hair, pulling and tugging everywhere he liked it.

Draven pulled her underwear from his pocket. “Open,” he said as he took his hand off her mouth. Aydra looked like she might smile.

“You’re gagging me?” she asked, head tilting.

“I intend to taste the Queen that just put all of Haerland on their knees,” he growled. “Open wide, my Queen.”

The sharp heels on her shoes dug into his back as he settled on his knees, her legs on his shoulders. He liked her like this—fully in his grasp and at his mercy. Every time he sucked on her, she limped above him, holding his hair as her anchor, and her screams muffled behind fabric in her mouth.

He intended to use that same lace to tie her spread eagle that night. Perhaps gag and blindfold her with the stockings he knew she had stashed in the top of her dresser.

A servant walked in on them once, and he swore it only made her come faster.

“Thank you for not ripping my pants,” she teased as he buckled them for her.

He tightened the belt tight enough that her mouth sagged slightly with the jerk, and he hovered over her a moment, his hair falling to tickle her shoulders.

“When I get back from meeting with Nadir, I want you ready for me,” he said. “I want every strip of lace you own laid out on the bed. Every dagger. Every belt.”

Aydra’s eyes widened, an eager smile lifting her lips. “What would you like me wearing, my King?” she asked.

“The only things you’ll be wearing tonight are my hand and my crown.”

Dorian hung around the meeting hall for another hour with the Blackhands. He’d lost track of Aydra and Draven, as well as the rest of his friends. But he’d been having so much fun chatting with Hagen about the possibility of going to the mountains that he’d lost track of time. Corbin had joined him after a while, making Dorian very aware of himself when he would laugh or when the Belwark would join in their banter.

Eventually, Dorian clapped Hagen on the shoulder and dismissed himself from the crowd, Corbin following after him.

A tense silence filled the halls with every step they took. Dorian found every hair standing up on his skin, an intensity that had his bones itching radiating between them.

“Did you need me tonight?” Corbin asked.

Dorian fumbled with the hem of his sleeves. “I think if there were no Belwarks in this hall that I would have you already,” he said in a low voice. He glanced sideways at his Second, who was staring at him with the same lust from the night before. His gaze darted over Dorian. And just as he opened his mouth to speak, Draven’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Hey, Prince—“ Draven called to him. Dorian and Corbin stopped short to turn, and Draven gave the Prince an upwards nod, beckoning him.

“What’s that about?” Corbin asked.

“No idea,” Dorian answered. He looked over Corbin again, giving him a full once-over. “Find me later?”

“Is that a command?” Corbin asked.