Page 18 of Till Death

“I bet you snore.”

“I should really see a doctor for that. And the morning breath is atrocious.”

“Because you’re a mouth breather?”

“Helps with the snoring.”

“Makes sense. And what are you doing for that balding patch on the back of your head?”

He threw his palms up. “Whoa, whoa, Princess. It’s all fun and games until you cross the line. This hair is and always will be perfect.”

“Well, that’s the deal-breaker. I can’t marry someone with fragile masculinity.”

He wanted to move forward so badly, to reenter my space, to overwhelm me. But the foot he’d lifted to take a step with replanted itself, showing his restraint as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Still, he practically growled at me, his eyes darkening. “If you crave masculinity, I’m certain I can deliver.”

“That’s an awfully bold statement for someone that just had their pants around their ankles.”

He softened. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want to look.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to… So, let’s say I agree to marry you twelve hours early. What’s your plan? We just stand here and initiate the binding? Is that what you want?”

“What do you want, Deyanira?”

The way he spoke my name, the way his voice tumbled down my spine, enraptured me. For a second, I felt weak, but the way he looked at me, the way he spoke to me, made me feel more. Stronger. Enough.

“I’ll marry you anywhere but in my father’s castle. If we’re taking our future into our own hands, it should be on our terms. No traditions. Just our solemn vows and the binding. But should I wear the veil?”

He picked his weapons off the floor, stowing them into their rightful places before coming to stand before me and taking my hands. Intentionally touching me once again. “No. Save the veil for tomorrow. I think I’d prefer to watch you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

“At least we can agree on one thing.”

“Most women tend to find me very agreeable.”

“Perfect statement to tell your future wife the day you meet.”

He locked his fingers with mine, tugging me toward the window. “Come on, fearsome, king-slaying Death Maiden with thirty-two titles. Let’s ruin everyone’s plans.”

Chapter 8

Chasing the king through the narrow alleyways of Perth as he tried and failed to avoid most people was entertaining. He’d go left, change his mind, pull me right, and continue on.

“Do you have a plan, or are we wandering aimlessly until the sun rises and you can change your mind?”

He stopped, pressing into me, and my back collided with a damp brick wall as two drunks passed by, stumbling and cackling with laughter. Caged between his arms, our world felt different from theirs. My heart raced beneath his amber gaze.

He leaned down to whisper, “Sorry for this, but the best plans are the ones that go awry. They won’t recognize me, but they will notice you, and if word gets out that the princess was seen with a strange man the night before her nuptials, we’ll have more explaining to do than I care for.”

“There’s an abandoned temple four blocks north, next to the graveyard on Tolliver’s Pointe. We can get to the rooftop from the outside, and no one goes there because they don’t want to anger the old gods.”

His eyes glistened. “They are old gods for a reason. But if we’re to be married, I guess a temple is appropriate, as long as we don’t go inside. I hate them.”

Staring down at me, his mouth so close I could feel his breath, he dropped his arms, lifting a finger to run it down my cheek. Always touching me. And I hated that it didn’t make my skin crawl.

“No kissing,” I whispered. “It’s a tradition we have to keep if we don’t want to revoke the binding.”

A thumb brushed over my lips. “It is the worst one.”