Page 21 of The Nightmare Bride

D ancing.

Was that what we were doing? It felt more like having different parts of myself flung in different directions, moment by moment.

Kyven dipped and spun me, seemingly without effort. And I’d downed so much ale that I let him—a willing partner, pliant in his arms.

At least he made it easy, his instinct for the music impeccable.

If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve sworn he actually knew this song, because he seemed to anticipate every twang of the banjo and rattle of the tambourine.

But that was impossible. This song was pure Oceansgate—bayou music, fiddle-heavy and chaotic, not remotely suitable for the rarefied rooms of Hightower.

Which could only mean he was a natural. I briefly wondered if his innate sense of rhythm carried over into other...activities, then promptly stopped wondering, because what?

Fuck, I was drunk. I had no other excuse for the rogue thoughts tainting my mind.

Or for the staticky thrill that shot through me every time Kyven steered me with a hand on my back or a nudge of his hips.

Still, I didn’t stumble once, not until a stout patron with an inflamed nose bumped into us and sent me reeling.

Kyven caught me neatly and wheeled me back in, nestling me in the crook of his arm. “Excuse us.”

The man only glared, unplacated. “Hmph. If it isn’t the bog-witch and the prince. Descended from your towers to rub elbows with the likes of us, eh?”

My scalp tightened. The man lurched away, clearly deep in his cups.

I watched him fade into the crowd, surprised to realize our presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. At all. Half the women stole glances at Kyven, while the men put up a wall of flinty glares. In the corner, someone flashed crossed forefingers in my direction.

“They haven’t been doing this all night,” I said. “Have they?”

Kyven smirked. “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”

“A...while, apparently.” Shock cut my words into stilted pieces. Usually, the townspeople’s hostility drilled into me, impossible to ignore, but tonight... “I must not have been paying attention.”

“Yes, well. I tend to have that effect on people.”

I peered up at him. How strange. Even now that I’d realized, I didn’t care what anyone thought. Not right now. “Are you saying you’re distracting?”

His grip tightened, bringing me closer. “I prefer the term ‘all-consuming’, myself.”

All-consuming. It was a ridiculous claim. Outlandish. But my pulse surged, drawn by the gravity of those lunar eyes. I groped for a retort and failed to locate so much as a breath.

His other arm came up, pulling me into him, chest to chest. The music rollicked onward, stranding us amid a flurry of sound and activity.

“All-consuming?” I finally found a pocket of air in some unexplored region deep in my lungs. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

Kyven searched my face. This close, his scent drowned me—wild marsh and woodsmoke and lonely, star-strewn nights.

Except those long-ago evenings had never felt like this one, so hot and close and intimate.

Out there, no one had ever stared at me like they could map the exact shape of my soul if they spent long enough trying.

“I think every bit as highly of you,” he said. “If it’s any consolation.”

“It’s not,” I said, but my fingers seemed to disagree, because they closed around his shirtfront as if trying to draw him closer.

His lids dropped. “Careful.” He made the word into a mouthful of warm honey.

Careful . It was probably the most honest thing he’d ever said to me, a word to heed, but my body had apparently undergone a spectacular divorce from logic. I quivered inside, my breath a ragged starburst, and didn’t let go of his shirt.

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said, “I might have to do something about it.”

I missed a beat, then another. “Do something? Like what?”

“Well, I had no plans to kiss you tonight. But I could absolutely be prevailed upon to change my mind.”

Hot needles swarmed in my gut. My eyes dropped to his mouth. He would taste like apples, I was sure. Sweet and crisp and delicious. Except...no. He was awful. The very idea was awful, and I hated everything about it. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you were the last man on earth.”

“No? Then why did you come?” His mouth snuck up at the edge, that tug pulling a corresponding hitch from my chest. Gah.

No matter what else he was, he truly was beautiful.

Annoyingly, disgustingly so. “Were you in it for the sparkling conversation? The free ale? Or did you intend to stare at my mouth all night and pretend not to find it interesting?”

I swallowed a shaky breath and heaved my eyes up to his. With more effort than it should’ve taken, I unhanded his shirt and shoved.

Except he didn’t move. His arms circled me like hot iron bands.

My heartbeat expanded to claim my whole body. Sweet Zephyrine, how had we ended up here? I’d meant this to be an investigation, yet I hadn’t asked a single question. I’d gotten distracted. Drunk on gorgeous eyes and a soft, inviting mouth.

And booze. Yes, definitely the booze.

“Don’t read anything into this,” I said. “I only came because I wanted to know about Vick.”

“Vick?” Kyven’s gaze thinned. “What do you care about him for? Don’t tell me you’d rather he kiss you?”

I made a face. “No, of course not. I hate him.”

“The same way you hate me?”

“More.” I shook my head. “Or...no, less. Obviously less, because I hate you most of all. Goddess, would you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Asking loaded questions.” I pushed again, and this time he released me. “Ones that damn me no matter which way I answer.”

“If a mere question can damn you,” he said, “maybe it’s time for some self-reflection.”

I stemmed a gasp. “You’re horrible.”

“Come, now. I don’t think you actually mean that.”

I gaped, mostly to cover up the fact that some twisted part of me was busy sighing in agreement. Seven hells, what was happening? I needed to get away from him before I said something I’d regret.

So I whirled and stomped off, not bothering to circumvent the other dancers. I just stampeded through, shearing couples in half, ignoring the hisses and hard looks my flight earned me.

Kyven caught up to me at the edge of the dancefloor, grabbing my hand and whirling me around. The look on his face—triumphant, almost predatory, had me backing away until my shoulders hit the wall.

Which proved to be a mistake. He surged close, trapping me with a palm splayed beside my head.

My breathing spiraled from my control. Goddess, he smelled so maddeningly familiar.

He looked it, too, and I wished I didn’t know every sound he made in his sleep, the exact texture of the drowsy chuckle he sometimes did in his dreams. Or that if I unbuttoned his collar and pushed it aside, I’d find a birthmark under his left collarbone, a pale splotch in the shape of a half-moon.

What had Olivian been thinking, sticking me with him? Then again, the seneschal had warned me against temptation, and I’d been haughty enough to declare myself above it.

Which had obviously been incredibly fucking stupid.

Kyven leaned down. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“No,” I snapped, even as my pulse staged a rebellion in my veins. “I couldn’t care less.”

“I think you like me,” he crooned. “And it frightens the ever-loving shit out of you, because you know I like you, too. What’s more, I think you only refuse to give me an inch because you know you’d end up offering me a mile. And you also know I’d take it, and so much more besides.”

I barely resisted the urge to slap him. “You’re delusional.”

“ You’re in denial.”

“I’m not. The only reason I came is because I needed to know about Vick. It had nothing to do with you.”

His eyes slitted, but that didn’t dampen the victory igniting there. As though he could see through my protests to some secret even I couldn’t decipher. “Fine. If you’re so desperate to know about my attendant, then ask whatever you like. I’d be more than happy to get that out of the way.”

I raised my chin, which I realized, too late, had the unfortunate effect of bringing my mouth closer to his. Now all I would have to do was go up on tiptoes. Which, obviously, I’d rather stab myself than do. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Tell me what Vick’s looking for. At the house.”

Kyven’s jaw flexed. “Money. Valuables.”

Shock blinkered my vision black for a moment. I couldn’t believe he’d actually answered that. Honestly, it would seem. “You mean he’s trying to rob us? What in Zephyrine’s name makes him think he has the right?”

“If you must know, he thinks Olivian’s hoarding riches. That all of you are coddled. Which, in your case, couldn’t be further from the truth, but Vick doesn’t know you like I do. Next.”

A swallow scraped down my throat. Vick could search the house top to bottom and not find a single stashed-away penny, so he could waste his own time all he liked.

I elected to ignore the rest of what Kyven had said completely.

“Okay, so your attendant’s a thief. Fantastic.

But is it more than that? Does he...hurt people, sometimes? ”

That caught him off-guard. His eyes flared before he modulated his reaction. “Only when necessary.”

My thoughts wheeled. What the hell did that mean? Did Vick and Kyven make some kind of demented two-man team? “Do you hurt people?”

Kyven held my eyes. “No.”

“Really? You’ve never harmed a woman in your life?”

He frowned. “I thought this was about Vick.”

An icy fist wrapped around my stomach and squeezed. “Just answer the question.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Across the room, a dropped glass shattered, but it might as well have been miles away for all that it affected me.

“Lioness, I’m no hero. Quite the opposite.

But I have never , nor will I ever, take pleasure in causing anyone pain.

Least of all a woman. So no. Never in my life.

Though I can’t conceive of why you’re asking. ”

That answer plunged into me like a rock into a well, causing an explosion of ripples. Seven hells, he looked—and sounded—so utterly sincere. But someone had to be responsible for the dead animals, for terrorizing the seneschal’s daughter.

I gathered my thoughts. “Right. Then...Vick, he’s always been with you, right? Always been your attendant? Traveled with you wherever you’ve gone?”

“No.” Not a moment’s hesitation. “I’ve known him just shy of a year.”

A year . The reply punched a clean hole through the nascent theory taking shape in my head. Yet Kyven’s blunt delivery rang with significance, enough that I sensed something here, some puzzle I could click together if only I could arrange the fragments properly.

“Is that all?” Kyven’s breath fanned across my lips, warm, sweetened with apples.

I shuddered. Or shivered. Who could tell. “No. One more.”

“Yes?”

“Who are you?” I jabbed a finger into his chest. It felt like poking iron. “In here. Who are you, really?”

A parade of emotions crossed his face—alarm, resolve, triumph. “It’s as I said. Whoever I want to be. Whatever I feel like becoming in the moment. I’m a prince, and a pauper, and oftentimes a pirate. And right now, I’m also a man who wants to kiss you very, very badly.”

My breathing stuttered and died.

He zeroed in on my mouth. “That’s the thing, lioness.

What I want above all else is to experience everything life has to offer.

I want to go everywhere. Do everything. Be everything.

Reinvent myself like those theatre-players do, find out which shape suits me best. And right now, with you, I get to be something I’ve never been before. Something entirely new.”

“Which is?”

He leaned closer. “A husband.”

“A...husband.”

“Yes. If only for four more weeks. And husbands are generally known for kissing their wives.”

I searched for a defense and latched onto the first one I could find. “But I’m not even nice to you.”

He chuckled, low and sultry. “I don’t need you to be nice. I need you to be interesting. And gods above, are you interesting. You have layers . Buried under thorns, maybe, but that only makes me want to see what’s there all the more. What treasures you’re guarding so jealously.”

Tingles swept up my spine. “There’re no treasures. I’m just...hard work.” Which normally worked to my advantage. Being difficult had always kept people at arm’s length.

But with him...

“Tell me.” His lids lowered, his lashes splaying across his cheeks. “After seeing me in the yard, do I strike you as a man who shies away from hard work?”

My lungs quivered. An eternity swept past, marooning us inside a swollen, aching silence. Far away, the crowd buzzed. The music rolled on. But my awareness narrowed to our mingled exhales and the way his heartbeat battered against the fingertip I hadn’t yet reclaimed from his chest.

“Well?” Kyven whispered.

“I hate you,” I whispered back.

A laugh rolled from his throat. “That doesn’t bother me in the slightest. And nothing prevents you from kissing a man you hate.”

I tried to list the myriad reasons why I shouldn’t touch him. Why this damnable attraction was inconvenient at best and catastrophic at worst. Because there were a thousand reasons to resist him. A million.

I just couldn’t think of a single one, right now.

My fingers curled around his shirtfront. And?—

Clang . The peal of a warning bell smashed the night apart. Then another. Clang.

Kyven’s eyes shot wide. He snapped upright as the crowd devolved into a scribble of panic. People fled for the exits, men shouting over one another while one woman wailed louder than a newborn.

“The Lady Amryssa,” Kyven said, low and urgent, but I was a step ahead of him, already moving.

Oh, goddess. I’d left my best friend. Sleeping and unchained, with her bedroom door locked but her window unbarred.

I’d left her alone. Then completely forgotten to watch the sky.

And now Amryssa had no one to protect her from the incoming nightmare.