Page 45 of The Nightmare Bride

Air jetted from his nose. “Yes. It’s like I told you—the liberators help people. And I’d heard the gossip, in Hightower. Suggestions that Kyven wasn’t the kindest of men. Though I didn’t know a thing about dead animals or seneschal’s daughters until you told me in the marsh yesterday.”

The power of his regard proved too much. I dropped my gaze, only to find myself eye-to-eye with that birthmark I loved so much.

Had loved so much. Had, past tense.

“Where is he, then?” I managed. “The real Kyven?”

“Dead.”

I jerked my gaze up again.

The intensity of his focus sliced into me.

“And before you go giving me that look, know that I had nothing to do with it. His carriage overturned on its own, for no other reason than he was driving too fast on a road that’s been filling with potholes for years.

He died in the accident, and his attendants fled, and it fell into our laps, Harlowe.

The carriage, the prince’s clothes...the whole thing, like an opportunity offered in an open palm.

And it made sense to me to take it. Everyone would’ve gotten what they wanted.

Including you, if only...” He pressed his lips together.

“What?” My voice rang with challenge. “If only I hadn’t taken Amryssa’s place?”

“Yes, but...” He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his heart, splaying my fingers against hot skin. “I’m glad you did. I’m so unbelievably grateful it was you, because I never would’ve known what this was like, with her. I wouldn’t have known what this was like with anyone but you.”

I hissed between my teeth. “There is no this .”

“There absolutely is. Don’t you dare deny it. Every word, every look, every nightmare you’ve ridden out with me, every confession, it’s all been real. This insignificant question of my name doesn’t change that.”

The urge to cry crowded my breathing. I couldn’t name this darkness inside me—fury, or broken-heartedness, or some perverse melding of the two that had somehow mutated into an undercurrent of desire.

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to dive into his arms and stay there.

I wanted to scream until I shattered, then shout that this was all his fault, that now it was his job to catch all the pieces.

“Fuck,” I muttered. Tears scrabbled up my throat and stabbed at my eyes. I blinked, unwilling to let them fall. “What even is your name?”

He sidled closer, his familiar scent raveling me into a chaotic knot.

“The same one you’ve been calling me.” Something raw boiled beneath his words.

“The one I’ve asked you to call me. It’s spelled differently—K-A-I—but I’ve been truthful, even about that.

About everything. Gods know I tried not to be at first, but acting didn’t feel like acting, with you.

It felt like lying. So I just...didn’t.”

“Kai.” I tested the name on my tongue. “What, you’re telling me you have half the prince’s name, just by random chance?”

“If any of this is random.” He stared me down. “I’ve never put much stock in the gods, but I have to wonder if Zephyrine can do more in her sleep than just dream people into a frenzy. Because all of this seems...strangely convenient. As though someone designed it this way.”

I blinked, unwilling to let him distract me with philosophy. “Ky. Kai. Fine, your name’s the same, but that accent? The way you talk? Lies.”

“No,” he said, with the same dark edge that had flavored his words in sleep, or in moments of high emotion, though I hadn’t understood the significance until right now.

“This is me, lioness. At my truest. I’ve spoken this way for years.

To friends, to lovers, to everyone who knows me.

Windfell belonged to the sullen boy who hated himself.

Hightower is for the man who claimed sovereignty over his own life.

So you can’t tell me I need permission to speak this way, or some nonsensical birthright.

Not when this is what feels like mine, what tastes right in my mouth. ”

“It’s not what you were born with,” I snapped. “Which makes it a lie.”

“It’s not,” he growled, his anger rising. “No more than that face you wear, which, if I’m not mistaken, you weren’t born with, either. At least if Lunk is to be believed.”

I gaped up at him, wildfire sparking in my breast. “How dare you?”

“How dare you ? You of all people should understand what it means to define yourself. Because you and I are the same, lioness. How can you not see that? We’re people life tried to sweep under the carpet, only we stood up and refused.

We reinvented ourselves and didn’t waste a moment on apology. I didn’t then, and I won’t now.”

“No, apology is obviously completely beyond you.”

“I’m sorry ,” he said. Despite the fury tightening his words, he sounded like he actually meant it. “But only for telling you I was Kyven. I’m not sorry for coming here. Or for marrying you. Or for falling half in love with you. Or for convincing you to fall half in love with me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shrieked. “I’m not half in love with you.”

“Now that ,” he said, leaning closer, “is a bald-faced lie. As far as I’m concerned, that makes us even.”

“I should slap you.”

“Go ahead.” Kai stared down, his mouth tight. His eyes were licks of blue fire, scorching away the air in the room until nothing remained but the stillness before a lightning strike. “But slapping me won’t stop me from wanting you, and it certainly won’t stop you from wanting me.”

I stared, too stunned and angry to answer.

“So do it.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Slap me as hard as you can. I beg you. So long as you kiss me, afterward.”

My breathing grew harsh and frantic. Oh, goddess.

Something was happening inside me, some unquenchable thirst rising up, transforming every heartbeat into a fresh ache that cried his name.

Ky. Kai. It was the same, wasn’t it? And so was he.

Because when I looked at him now, I saw the same man who’d held me in the darkness and winked at me over the dining table.

Who’d guided me through the nightmares and painted fire across my throat with his tongue.

Not only that, but he was the only one who could do this to me.

Who could steal my breath and feed it back to me in the form of knowing looks and heated words.

Who could take my heart and reshape it in his hands.

Who could soak up the candlelight like some fiery, avenging angel—one who’d marked me for capture and now held my eyes with the focus of an archer sighting down the shaft of an arrow.

His fingers tightened around my hand. Gravity bent me closer, threatening to suck me into his orbit. I wanted...

Seven hells, I wanted him . So very, very badly.

My nostrils flared. If I didn’t escape him right this second, I was going to do something incredibly fucking stupid.

So I shoved him away and stalked off in the only direction available—the bathroom.

I stomped into the candlelit circle of mirrors, my reflection breaking into a hundred shimmering shards.

Kai followed and stopped behind me. In the mirrors, shadows honed his face to a collection of blades—sharp eyes, sharp cheekbones, sharp fury that demanded some kind of response.

“You were supposed to be a prince,” I accused his reflection. “Who was supposed to marry a seneschal’s daughter. And instead, you’re just...nobody, married to some other nobody. It’s actually kind of hilarious, if you think about it.”

A warning flashed in his eyes. “I am far from nobody. And you couldn’t be less of a nobody if you tried.”

His response carved out a hollow space within me. And...shit. I couldn’t stop myself.

I whirled around and slapped him. Hard . Fire lashed my palm as his head snapped to the side. The crack of flesh reverberated from tile and marble and glass.

He straightened slowly, his breathing turbulent. When he swept his hair back from his face, embers smoldered in those chilled-fire eyes.

As if he’d liked that.

I flexed my stinging palm. “That’s for not being Kyven Windermere.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth and smiled, predatory, and I could no more squelch the need surging up in me than I could stem the gush of a burst dam with bare hands.

Because my anger had multiplied, sharpening into a double-edged blade that sliced at me with such savagery that I couldn’t distinguish anger from desire.

Fuck, I didn’t care where he’d come from. I just wanted to inhale him. Punish him. Tear him into pieces and consume each one. If only this once.

I stepped in and yanked his face to mine. Our mouths collided in what amounted to the fiercest kiss of my life.

It was like breathing lightning. Like drinking an inferno. His mouth was hot and demanding, his tongue a delirious force that obliterated all reason. His hands captured my ribs and crushed me close.

My body went molten, and I broke away, dazed. He tilted his forehead against mine, my ribcage still folded in his vise grip.

“And that?” he breathed. “What was that for?”

“Also for not being Kyven Windermere.”

He gave a gravelly chuckle. “Well, would you look at that. All I had to do was get angry for you to finally admit you want me.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He pulled back just enough to let me glimpse the heat crowding his eyes. “That is what happens next, yes.”

I studied him. He licked his lips, his eyes fanatical and gleaming, and I was lost. Utterly and completely. I had never wanted anything the way I wanted him, with every molecule. Because prince or not, he was still him , and I craved him like I craved my next breath.

This prick.

“Fine,” I said. “Do it. But you’re not allowed to enjoy it.”

Before my lips finished shaping the words, he was devouring me again. This time, it wasn’t a kiss, but something beyond that. A starburst, exploding me into blazing need.