Page 65 of Warrior Princess Assassin (Braided Fate #1)

But now she’s kneeling in front of me , her eyes wide and trusting, my fingers tracing a line of water across her cheek.

Both of these images tangle up in my mind, and suddenly, my cock stiffens. I’m grateful for the bubbles.

But then she puts a hand over mine, and the rest of me goes tense. I pull my hand back automatically, without meaning to.

Jory frowns. She puts her hand back on the rim of the tub.

After a moment, I put my hand back over hers.

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, as if she suddenly understands the significance. As if she finally understands why I can touch her, though it’s so very different when she touches me .

“You could have told me,” she says, and her voice is so soft. “About the slavers.”

My hand goes still. “No,” I say. “I couldn’t.”

“I really would have tried to help you.”

“No one could’ve helped me,” I say, and I mean it. “Not even you, Jor.”

I should tell her to leave. I need to tell her to leave. Touching her is reckless, because every time I start, I never want to let her go.

But I brush a damp finger along her cheekbone again, more slowly this time.

Her breath catches. Just a little. Just enough.

The king will probably kill me for this, but we’re alone and it’s warm and I’ve been in love with her forever.

I lean forward, just a bit, and brush my lips against hers.

I smell the lavender, I taste her tears.

Her lips part, and she kisses me back. But it’s small.

Gentle. Soft. Nothing like the rough-and-tumble passion she shared with the king before I interrupted.

Would I want that? I don’t know. I take hold of her hand, then press it to my cheek. But when her fingers land on my skin, I freeze.

She draws back, but she leaves her fingers there. I leave my face there.

“Am I hurting you?” she whispers.

“No, lovely.” But maybe she is. A little. My body wants to recoil. It’s exquisite, though. This pain.

She wets her lips. “Please don’t stop.”

The plea in her voice means we should stop.

When I’m wrapped up in shadows, it’s easy to resist her.

Right now I’m naked and hard, and I’m so aware of the feel of her palm against my cheek.

There’s a part of me that hates it, but there’s a part of me that’s imagining the slow path of her hand down my body.

I draw a shuddering breath. “I’m not sure the king would approve. ”

Her eyes turn sharp and hard. “I’m not sure I care.” Her lips part. “Asher, please.”

I am not this strong—or maybe my body simply knows what it wants.

I surge forward and press my mouth to hers again, and this time there’s nothing small or gentle or tentative about it.

When I tease at her lips with my tongue, her mouth parts, and it wakes something inside me.

I force myself to be slow, drawing at her lips until it pulls a small sound from her throat.

When she bites at my lip in response, I forget myself.

I rise up a bit and grab hold of her waist, jerking her against me.

But then her hand slides into my hair, and I break free, gasping. A tiny bit of water sloshes over the side again, sizzling.

Jory lets me go, breathing hard. “Oh,” she gasps.

I slink back under the suds again, then lean against the side, my fingers tight on the edge. Wet spots are all over her dress, and I wince.

“Forgive me,” I say.

“Don’t apologize.” She drops to her knees beside the tub again, cautious of the stones. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are swollen. “Do it again.”

Fuck . I’m so hard I’m pressed into the side of the tub, and I draw a ragged breath. If she keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to drag her into this water and pull her down on top of me and she’ll learn a whole lot all at once.

But then I force myself to think clearly, and I realize what she said. I open my eyes and look at her. “Jory. Do you really want—”

“Yes.” Her eyes are heavy lidded.

I put a finger over her lips and give her a stern look. “You almost kissed the king last night. Do you really want me, or are you mad at him ?”

That draws her up short, and she goes still. A flicker of sorrow washes over her expression.

“Both?” she says softly.

I sigh, then nod toward the corner of the room, because the water really is growing too warm. “Fetch me those linens, Jor.”

She does, and I stand, wrapping them around me as I go. She takes one glimpse down at the outline of my cock straining at the fabric and she turns bright red—then whips around, covering her face again. “Asher!”

“Well, that’s your fault,” I say. “If you ever start using your teeth on a man and he doesn’t go rock hard, consider it a warning.” I step over the side and onto the stone floor. “What on earth does Lady Charlotte think you’re doing over here, anyway?”

“She’s sleeping. She said she stayed awake last night to make sure the king didn’t take advantage of me.”

I roll my eyes and take another linen from a rack, rubbing it through my wet hair. “I’m glad you were safe.”

She half turns to look at me. “You seemed to be rather cozy with the king yourself.”

That’s so unexpected that I flush immediately.

Especially because it summons the memory of the way the king rolled onto his knees and took hold of my chin.

We are not competing.

The way Jory leaned in to touch a finger to my cheek.

I close my eyes and swallow. I’m going to be hard for an hour at this rate.

“It was just cold,” I say, and I hate that my voice is rough.

I force my eyes open, and I walk past her, wondering what kind of clothes I might find in the bedroom.

The wardrobe is surprisingly well stocked, with dresses and trousers and tunics and underthings stretching from one side to the other.

I run my hand across the fine fabrics, all silk and velvet and calfskin leather.

I haven’t worn anything this nice since I lived in the palace in Perriden.

Jory hasn’t said anything, but I can feel her eyes on me.

“What?” I say flatly.

“He was going to kill those children, Asher.” Her voice is so soft. “He wants this alliance and he wants to protect his people and he wants to make things right . I believe all of that. I’ve seen the kindness inside of him.”

So have I. I think of the king breaking his bread in half—or telling one of his soldiers to make sure Lady Charlotte had enough silver to buy that woman’s freedom.

Jory continues, “But he didn’t tell those settlers who he was—and this is why! When his people approached him, he was ready to kill them! He gave the order—”

“I was there.” I randomly pull trousers and a tunic from the closet.

“How could he?” she demands. “How could he, Asher? Is that why the rumors are so terrible? Is that why everyone is so afraid—”

“Jory.” I toss the clothes on the bed and turn to face her. “He didn’t see children.”

“How could he not see children? They were right—”

“He saw attackers. He saw enemies. He saw a threat .”

She falls silent and stares at me.

I take a step closer to her, and I reach out to take her hand. Then I press her palm to the center of my chest. Even with me controlling the action, there’s a moment where I go still, where my heart stutters, begging me to recoil.

She must see a flicker of it in my expression, because I can see the response in hers. It’s something akin to pity, and I hate it. But I need her to understand.

“You felt that?” I say softly.

She bites her lip, uncertain now. “Yes.”

“The slavers broke me, Jory. Over and over again, until my body learned that if someone touched me, something bad was coming.”

“Asher.” She frowns a little. “You’re not broken—”

“Oh, I am. It changed something in here...” I put my hand over hers, tapping over my heart. “And it changed something in my head. So now, even when it’s someone I trust, even when it’s someone I love , I still feel it.”

As I say the heavy words, I’m surprised to realize they’re not entirely true. At some point, I stopped wanting to recoil when Ky touches me.

That’s too complicated to examine. Especially when Jory’s hand is so heavy against my chest.

“He’s broken, too,” I say. I think of his nightmare in the inn, the way his eyes were dark and full of shadows.

When that boy crashed through the door with an armload of firewood, he was out of his seat, ready for an attack.

When the Draeg soldier stumbled out of that hut behind Jory, I thought he might call fire and level the entire encampment. “He’s just broken in a different way.”

“How?” she whispers. “He’s not like you.”

“Not by slavers. By war . He’s learned to see a threat—and kill it. Because the alternative is that it would kill him first. Or worse, his soldiers. You’ve seen how deeply he cares for them. Who knows how many he’s seen die?”

I watch emotions pass through her eyes as she works that through. “Is that why you told me to leave him be?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

I give her a look. “Because a lot of broken soldiers visit brothels, Jor.”

Her expression twists like she thinks I’m teasing—but then she must realize I’m not. “Oh,” she says softly. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“I certainly can’t solve it. But I don’t think he meant to slaughter children. I think he’s a man who was attacked and responded in kind. They didn’t just come at him with grievances. They weren’t unarmed. One of those men did draw a weapon.”

“But he didn’t see the children .”

“But you did, and you stopped the fight. And when you called for his men to disarm, the king listened to you. It’s not the first time, either.” I kiss her on the forehead. “Seems like a powerful alliance, Your Highness.”

Her mouth opens. Closes.

“Look at that,” I say. “Maybe I can solve it.”

“But what if Father dies, and the alliance fails?” She pauses. “And what if the king’s magic really is causing his fields to go barren?”

I snort. “Now, those are problems I definitely can’t solve. Turn around so I can get dressed.”

She gives me a rueful look. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Suit yourself.” I drop the towel.

She whirls so quickly she almost smacks her face right into the wardrobe. “Asher! You are never this bold!”

She’s right, I’m not. But much like the way I mentioned the fighting rings, there’s something a bit freeing about knowing my past is no longer a secret.

That she finally sees me—and it didn’t scare her away.

Maybe that’s wrapped up in the way the king doesn’t flinch from my past. A new emotion has been building in my chest for the last couple days, and it’s so unfamiliar that I can’t even identify it.

It’s not confidence or courage. It’s something else entirely.

It’s an easing. A loosening. Not all the way—nowhere close—but it’s something.

I reach for the trousers. “Well, I told you about using your teeth.”

Her cheeks turn pink. She says nothing for a long moment, and I work the laces.

“Can I ask you a question?” she finally says, and her voice goes a bit quiet.

I tug a tunic over my head. “Anything.”

“Do you fancy Ky?”

I freeze. The question is sobering, especially since I don’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know how to fancy anyone anymore,” I say.

Despite that, I can’t stop thinking about the king on top of her.

I can’t stop thinking about the weight of his hand on my face, or the way he offered me a bowl of food after I tried to kill his soldier.

I can’t stop thinking about that moment in the tavern when they were both touching me at once, how I felt it right down to my core.

Even now, it’s a low pulse of heat in my belly.

I need to stop thinking about this. Since enduring the slavers, I’ve never wanted anyone but Jory.

“You let him touch you,” she says quietly.

I swallow, because I didn’t realize it was so obvious. To my surprise, warmth is crawling up my neck. I look over at her. “Do you fancy the king?”

“I don’t want to,” she says softly, but her cheeks darken, and I know she’s thinking of his body pinning her to the ground, the way his hand stroked over her breast.

Fuck . Now I’m thinking of it, too. I frown, then run a hand back through my damp hair. “I don’t want to either.”

“You were so angry last night.” She pauses. “I thought you might be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” I say, and I mean it. Whatever I feel, it’s not jealousy. At least not entirely.

“Really?”

“Jory.” She’s still turned toward the windows, staring out at the mountains.

I cross the distance between us and put my hands on her waist, then pull her flush against me.

She gasps in surprise, but her body yields under my hands, and she all but melts right into me.

Even clothed, feeling the warm curve of her ass against me is more intense than I expected, and it pulls a low sound from my throat.

I lean down to whisper into her ear. “Do I feel jealous?”

“Asher,” she breathes, leaning into me. I desperately want to stroke my hands up her body. To finish everything we started in the washroom.

There’s a part of me that wishes I hadn’t told her the truth.

The boy she knew would pull away and put some distance between us.

But now she’s pressing herself against me, her ribs heaving a bit against mine.

Instead of slinking into the shadows, I want to hitch up her skirts and bend her over against the bed.

But then I think of the way her hand slipped into my hair. How it made me jerk back. I think of what she’s longing for—and everything I’m afraid of. My heart stutters a little.

I let go and step back.

She spins, her eyes full of fire.

“ No ,” I say.

This time she crosses her arms and pouts. Her cheeks are all flushed, and some of her hair is beginning to come loose from the braid.

“Jory,” I say. “You are killing me. And your fiancé might really kill me. Move. I need my boots.”

“Why?” she demands.

Because the king is alone—and he shouldn’t be.

The thought hits me harder than I’m ready for. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t . That flicker of not-quite-jealousy in my gut should be rejoicing that Jory has found something about him unappealing.

But I remember the way he woke from that nightmare. I saw the look on his face after he realized what almost happened—and he heard Jory’s censure.

It reminds me of all the reasons I wouldn’t tell her about myself .

I tug a boot on and work the laces. “We should go find him. I don’t think you should leave things between you as you did.”

“He’s probably with his captain,” she says. “Or the other soldiers.”

I frown and pull on my other boot. “That man needs a few minutes away from soldiers.”

“We’re not allowed. He told us not to explore.”

At that, I look up and meet her eyes. “Jory. When has that ever stopped us?”