Page 20 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Twenty

S everal hours later, I found myself once again being prepared for an event, but this time, it was different. I was restless, and my skin felt electric. My blood thrummed under my skin. It had been doing that ever since the arena. I still couldn’t believe Malik marked me. Of all the women he could have chosen . . . Was it because we shared that kiss? Surely not. He was Zehvitian. The kiss probably meant little to him. And though I wasn’t an idiot—I knew he was attracted to me—I still didn’t think that was the only reason. I thought of the day we first met in the throne room and all the encounters since. The way he had sought me out the night of his father’s funeral. Perhaps the King of Zehvi felt more for me than I wanted to let myself believe.

I stared down at the now dried red paint on my hand.

When my maids found out what it was and what had happened, Hilde had sneered and demanded we wash it off, but I feared it would be an insult to do so before the night was over.

Oblivious to my whirling thoughts, Astrid hadn’t stopped buzzing since I returned from the Nest.

“Of course he chose you, my lady. He is a smart man, after all.” I shot her an exasperated look, which she pointedly ignored as she flung open my wardrobe and began flicking through the gowns there. “What color shall you wear tonight?”

I glanced once more at the paint on my hand and, feeling suddenly reckless, I spoke up.

“Actually Astrid, if you would, see if I may borrow a gown from Princess Zara for tonight,” I requested as I ran a brush through my hair, refusing to look at either of them as I did. I did not think Zara would mind if I asked to borrow a gown, and we were roughly the same size, even if she was slightly taller and had a few less curves.

There was a pause before Astrid answered, “Of course, my lady. Do you have any preference for color or style?”

I shrugged. “Whatever the princess thinks would be best, or whatever she can spare.” I glanced at her in the mirror. “I cannot claim to be an expert in the fashions of her people.”

“Of course, my lady,” she said again, breaking into a wide smile.

“Though, I would prefer something on the less revealing side of the current fashion,” I stipulated, thinking of the gown—or rather more like undergarments—I had seen Priya wearing at the Coronation Games.

Astrid’s smile softened, and she inclined her head.

“Are you sure it would not be more prudent to wear one of your own dresses, Princess?” Hilde asked. “I’m not sure how your mother would feel about you wearing such immodest garb. It would reflect poorly on—”

“My mother isn’t here, Hilde,” I stated firmly, halting what would no doubt have been a lengthy diatribe. My words were greeted with a long silence before Hilde bowed slightly, no doubt biting back all the words she truly wished to say. Though I was sure she would say all of them in a report to my mother at the first opportunity.

There was a knock at the door, and Astrid moved to answer it. She exchanged a few words with someone on the other side of the door, then returned carrying a large rectangular box with a sealed note resting on the top.

Astrid was near beaming when she declared, “A gift from His Majesty. And he bids you open it directly.”

I gaped at her for a few moments and then stood to reach for the note, opening it with shaking hands.

My heart was pounding erratically in my chest as I set the note aside and lifted the lid of the box.

All of us gasped—even Hilde—as the gorgeous gown inside was revealed.

It was a two-piece Zehvitian-style gown. The fabric was a deep blue with silver embroidery—Halmarish colors, which I knew couldn’t be a coincidence. Heavily embroidered designs spanned across the bust and sides, and along the jewel-encrusted waistband of the skirt. The arms, as well as the overlay of the flowing skirt, were made of a sheer blue gauzy fabric.

I ran a hand over the soft material. It was stunning. A gown like this would have had to have been commissioned days, if not weeks, ago. Which meant Malik had intended for me to be his partner tonight for some time.

“Well, try it on!” Astrid demanded in her excitement, and for once, Hilde’s forbidding frown did nothing to dampen the girl’s eagerness.

“Do you think this wise, Your Highness?” Hilde asked. “Encouraging Prince Malik’s attentions will only feed the court gossip already spreading about you and he and the nature of your . . . relationship.”

“It’s just a dress, Hilde,” Astrid said dismissively as she helped me quickly slip on the gown.

I didn’t bother to respond as I took in the dress. The neckline was modestly square and thankfully high enough in the back that it covered my scars. It only showed a small sliver of my lower midriff, not exposing it completely as so many did, though it still felt odd to have any skin on display at all.

I inspected myself in the mirror. It was much simpler than most of the dresses I had seen Zehvitian women wear, but much more elaborate than anything I had ever worn. It contrasted beautifully with my hair, which I wore partially braided back. Astrid had twined a silver chain through the hair at my crown that dipped down with a teardrop pearl at my forehead.

The fabric itself was also a revelation. It was the first time since coming here that I wasn’t hot and uncomfortable, or at least warm in my clothing. And I felt beautiful. After my conversation with Malik in the garden, I had commissioned a few lighter gowns be made for me to better fit the climate, but they were nothing like this. Now the foreign texture of the material against my bare skin made a small, wicked thrill dance through me.

As I reached the banquet hall, the sounds of exotic flutes and two-toned drums swirled through the guests and added to the festive air. I nodded to a few members of the court I had come to recognize as I stepped into the room and was just about to accept a drink from a passing servant when a conversation filtered into my awareness.

“. . . no way he can truly mean to choose her as his Hassai,” one woman was saying. “He only marked her during the games because she’s visiting royalty.”

I froze as I realized who they were discussing. My body flushing hot, then cold.

“A political maneuver. She’s a fool if she believes he actually means anything by it,” a second woman agreed.

The two women obviously had no idea I was standing within earshot and I quickly moved further into the room to escape hearing any more of their conversation.

A large area had been cleared for dancing, and I let myself be entranced by the hypnotic, sensual movements of the many couples, trying not to think on what I had overheard.

“A very different experience from a Halmarish dance, is it not?” Leif observed as he came to stand beside me. Thankfully his question distracted me.

“Simply scandalous,” I agreed.

The stoic man actually smiled, and I had to admit he looked rather good standing there in his formal clothing. It was one of the first times I had seen him forgo his gray riding leathers. He looked fierce and intimidating. “What would your mother say?”

“I hope to the Nine I never find out,” I laughed honestly and eyed him. “Are you here to caution me in her stead?”

Leif sobered somewhat. “No, Princess. Not tonight. But since you finally broached the subject, please know that during our previous . . . discussion . . . that it was only out of concern for you that I said what I did.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I know you meant well. It’s just—” I halted as I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. I shifted, seeking . . . something . . .

And locked eyes with Malik as he approached, striding purposefully toward me. He looked magnificent in a dark formal jacket detailed in red stitching and open to reveal a blood-red tunic underneath. His short beard had been freshly trimmed and his black hair was smoothed back from his face.

But all of that was not what had a frisson of awareness racing down my spine and over my skin.

As he approached, that dark gaze took in what I wore from my slippered feet to the chain woven in my bright curls. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as I took note of the primal need and desire sparking in his eyes.

Leif looked to see what had caught my attention, and his jaw clenched.

Malik came to a stop before us and extended his hand to me, the golden gauntlet around his wrist glinting in the light. “Shall we, Your Highness?” he asked rather formally—no doubt for Leif’s benefit—though there was a slight tilt to his lips.

I fought to steady my breathing as I nodded and took his hand. I watched his eyes flare as he noted his mark still on my skin. I looked at Leif.

“I trust you know what you’re doing, Princess,” was all he said, before bowing his head. “Your Majesty,” he said to Malik.

Malik didn’t take his eyes off me as he tucked my hand against his arm. “Rider,” he replied, before sweeping me towards the dancers at the center of the room.

He leaned close. “You look absolutely devastating in that dress, siren.”

“Well, it is you I have to thank for it,” I murmured.

He smiled down at me. “You were made to wear it.” The words came out sounding like they held more weight than they should, but his expression gave nothing away, and so I dismissed it.

By some unknown signal I must not have been aware of, the musicians halted, and everyone cleared the dance floor as Malik and I stepped onto it. Nerves assailed me as I suddenly became aware of the eyes of the room on us. Blessedly, we weren’t alone for long though, as the Talonar warriors and their chosen partners also took to the floor.

“I don’t know the steps,” I said under my breath, feeling intensely vulnerable.

“There are no set steps,” Malik explained simply.

With that, the music started back up and Malik’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me close—nearly as close as we had been when we kissed—before settling on my hips. Then he began to move.

I felt flush and stiff as I tried to copy his movements, uncomfortable and uncoordinated. This was so different from anything I was used to. I avoided dancing at Halmarish functions, and when I did dance, it was never with such a captive audience.

“Relax,” Malik crooned in my ear.

“But all these people—”

“Do not matter,” he stated.

I looked at him.

“No one else matters. Just keep your eyes on me.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked.

“What I mean is, let yourself enjoy tonight. My people expect nothing less, and no one here will judge you for it.” He paused, and his nose scrunched up—the look more adorable than it had any right to be on such a fierce, masculine-looking man. “Well, except perhaps your father’s ambassador, and the statue who is glaring a hole into my back as we speak, and has a stick up his—”

“ All right ! Fine!” I interrupted, as he chuckled. “I will try to relax.”

He gave me a knowing look that was one-part teasing, one-part challenge. “That’s all I ask.”

And so I did.

After that first slightly awkward dance where I had to fight against the stiff formality of movement that I was used to, we danced to another song and another, and I began to relax. Other people eventually joined in, so it was not just the warriors and their partners. We stopped to drink—him wine and me water, since I had sworn off the stuff for the time being after my incident —and I even danced with Harun and a few of the other warriors. At one point, Zara and I both nearly fell down laughing as she tried to show me some dance moves, including swaying my hips like I had seen so many of the women here do. I failed miserably, of course, but had a good time trying, even if I was making a fool of myself. I felt free in a way I hadn’t in a long time. Possibly ever.

Mesmera, Azrun, and dozens of other dragons looked on from the sidelines, or from the high perches overhead that many of them favored when in their minor forms and their riders were otherwise occupied.

Then I was in Malik’s arms again, and this time the dance was slower, the music slightly more sensual.

I didn’t know why it had never occurred to me that Malik would be a good dancer, but it hadn’t. Zehvitians were a very hot-blooded and passionate people. And Malik was their prince. Of course, he would be an excellent dancer.

Dancing with the others had been fun and exhilarating, but dancing with Malik . . . I felt like I had come alive. With Malik, every motion and gesture and sway of my hips felt different, more weighted and charged with meaning. Every breath was a heady rush and any time those dark eyes met mine or his hand grazed the exposed skin at my side . . .

For what had to be the hundredth time that night, my face was flushed, and I glanced away, needing a moment to catch my breath.

What I saw didn’t lessen my blush, but rather increased it when my eyes fell on one of the warriors whose name I didn’t know, who was dancing so close to his partner I questioned whether they might actually be doing a little more than simply dancing.

“Why don’t we get some air?” Malik suggested, having obviously noticed my discomfort.

I looked back at him gratefully. “Let’s.”

I grasped my skirts as I stepped up onto the white stone floor of the gazebo, Malik offering his hand. Though I had visited the gardens many times, I had never actually entered the gazebo. It was small and circular, with only enough room for a few chairs and a simple cushioned divan. An intricate stone railing encircled the structure, at about waist height. I moved to it now, placing my hand on the stone that was still warm from the sun despite the late hour. Faint torchlight reflected off the nearby pond.

Malik came to stand beside me, his large presence filling my awareness. And for some reason it hit me then that we were truly alone here. Malik had dismissed our guards to wait for us at the entrance to the gardens. And something that felt an awful lot like anticipation and eagerness warmed my blood at the thought. My skin felt sensitive and alive in a way it only ever was around Malik. I couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss we had shared. How it had felt to have his lips—his body—pressed to mine. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he would be able to hear it.

“Do you remember that first day I found you here?” he asked, his rich voice warm in the peaceful night, pulling me back from my thoughts. “I heard the sweetest voice and followed it, thinking some forest sprite had stumbled into my garden. Imagine my surprise when I found you there. Your wild, beautiful hair spread out around you, shoes off and feet in the water . . . like the world had fallen away as you sang to the heavens.”

His voice was soft, almost lulling as he painted a picture with his words. It was like I was there, reliving the feeling I had that day. That light, happy weightlessness.

Warm hands encircled my waist from behind, and even warmer lips pressed to the small piece of skin at my shoulder exposed by my neckline. I sucked in a breath. “Siren . . .” he breathed in my ear. I had to bite my lip to keep from groaning at the contact as his lips continued to travel, dropping feather light kisses on my skin until eventually I turned my head towards him, meeting his gaze.

His warm eyes were haunting pools in the darkness as they slid over my face with what I now recognized as desire.

My eyes fell to his mouth. And I was suddenly achingly aware of the fact that I would be leaving soon. After the coronation tomorrow, we’d be returning to Halmar, and I’d lose all this—him—whatever this was between us. And I hated that thought. I wanted him to kiss me again. To be kissed.

For so long, I had let others control my life and dictate my actions. Just this once—I wanted something for myself.

My eyes returned to his.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but in my next breath, his lips were on mine. The kiss was slow and heated and perfect. I turned to face him, and he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped my face, and I fed my fingers into his silken hair. He made a sound like a growl against my lips, and heat pooled low in my belly at the sound.

He pulled back. “Leida, I need to tell you something . . . to ask you—” he began.

But then I whimpered. It was a desperate, needy sound I had never made before and Malik’s resistance snapped, and whatever he had been about to say was lost as our mouths met and tangled once more.

I gasped as he clasped me by the waist and lifted me so I was seated on the stone balustrade. My legs naturally parted for him, and he stepped between them, pressing close, our chests brushing. Honeyed, molten heat slipped through my entire body as our tongues, teeth, and lips dueled and danced with one another.

His hand slid from my waist to grip at my thigh. Then lower. . . to my calf. His deft fingers played at the hem of my gown as he pulled back, a question in his eyes.

“I want to make you feel good, siren,” he breathed. “I want to watch you fall apart in my arms.”

My heart was pounding, and I was breathing hard, but I hesitated only a moment before I nodded. My mind whirled, but any uncertainty was brushed away as I stared into his eyes, and he kissed me again. More slowly this time.

His hand slid under my skirts, moving slowly up my leg to my thigh, then higher. His mouth continued to devour mine, but I still gasped when his fingers rubbed against my entrance.

“Siren.” The name was a tortured groan. “You’re so wet for me.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I should be blushing at his words, but I was too lost in the sensations his touch was creating in my body. I had never felt anything like it. The almost painful pleasure of it.

Naively, I thought that this was all he had intended, but eventually his fingers slid beneath the fabric and one sank inside me, and I realized how wrong I was.

“Malik!” I panted as I gripped his shoulder.

His mouth moved down to the side of my neck, teasing it with hot, wet lashes of his tongue. His free hand cupped my breast over my gown. His thumb brushed my nipple, and the sensitive bud tightened.

I gasped his name again into the sultry night air.

“That’s it, siren,” he rasped as his finger curved and pressed into me. Slowly at first, then building his pace until he was relentlessly driving me higher.

I opened my eyes, and my gaze was immediately snared in his. I began to rock slightly against his hand, the building pressure intense as my entire body wound tighter. Our faces were so close, my entire world became him as he watched me, those dark eyes filled with heat as he slipped another finger inside. Our breaths mixed and tangled as his thumb began to circle my sensitive bud, causing my hips to buck against him. Maiden, help me! It felt amazing. Heartbeats later he pressed down on a particularly sensitive spot, and I clutched at his shoulder as everything inside me felt like it spasmed and tightened at once.

“Malik!” I wanted to weep at the pleasure of it as his fingers pushed even deeper and I cried out against his mouth—falling over a precipice I hadn’t even known existed. My whole body went white hot and for a moment, my vision blurred. I had never felt such an intense sensation in my life.

“That’s it, isholet ,” Malik murmured sometime later, as his smooth voice coaxed me back downward. I had unknowingly slumped against him, all my strength having left me, and my mind had gone momentarily blank.

As I slowly roused, it was to find Malik watching me. His amber eyes still burned, as if he had enjoyed every second of watching me fall apart, but he also looked stunned, as if the intensity of what we had done had surprised him as much as it had me.

“Leida,” he murmured, “there’s something I need to discuss with you."

My name on his lips jolted me into awareness and brought me out of whatever spell I had temporarily fallen under. And I suddenly became aware of my surroundings and what we had just done—what I had just done—with Malik. I was all but sitting in the king of Zehvi’s lap, with my skirts rucked up around my waist, during a party, in the middle of a public garden where anyone could just happen upon us at any moment.

Whore. Tramp. Filth. The words hurtled through my mind, and I cringed internally, feeling like I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, calling me all manner of vile things.

“I have to go,” I said, my voice shaking slightly as I fought to disentangle myself from him. Errantly, I had the thought that my father would probably be proud of what I had done. He had wanted me to put myself in his path, after all. Somehow, that thought made it even worse.

“What’s wrong?” Malik asked, stepping back.

A violent blush was coloring my cheeks when I finally managed to stand and right my skirts, and I hated it. I hated that I couldn’t be like a Zehvitian and be free and flippant about what we had just done. I just felt dirty and ashamed as all my mother’s hateful words bounced around in my head. I hated how unsure and inexperienced I suddenly felt as I stared at the man before me and tried not to relive the stark intimacy of the moment we had just shared. “I have to go,” I said again, unable to meet his concerned eyes any longer, when moments before they had been filled with such passion. “I—we shouldn’t have . . .” I trailed off, clutching my skirts, unable to untangle the conflicting emotions fighting for space in my head. “I—I can’t be here.”

“Leida, wait,” Malik tried. “What—"

“Goodnight, Your Majesty.” I cut off whatever he was going to say and spun away from him. Then I all but ran down the stone steps and across the grass to the path.

“Leida!” Malik yelled again, but I ignored him as I fled back towards the palace.

I heard his footsteps crunching on the path behind me.

“Leida, stop!” he called, his voice drawing closer.

But I didn’t turn. Instead, I quickened my pace until I saw other party goers and relaxed somewhat as they came into view, knowing—or rather hoping—their presence would keep Malik from being able to corner me and discuss what just happened.

An unkind part of me wondered painfully if it had meant anything to him, or if I had just been an amusing way for him to pass the time tonight. A Zehvitian wouldn’t see anything special in what we had just done. Not like I did. And wasn’t he all but betrothed to Priya, anyway? What had I been thinking? Allowing him to—I hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. Anytime I was around the man, he made me feel—

A strong hand grasped my upper arm, and I was hauled around to face Malik’s frustrated expression. The nearest guest was still several paces away from us, so I didn’t think they could hear him as Malik demanded, “What just happened? Why are you running away from me?”

I tried to yank my arm free, but he pulled me over to the side of the path so my back was against a tall hedge before letting me go. Now we were out of anyone’s immediate line of sight.

I made sure my mask was firmly in place before I answered him. “I’m not running. And I assure you, I am perfectly fine,” I lied.

His eyes flashed. “Don’t do that,” he said in a low tone.

“Don’t do what?”

“Retreat behind that wall of yours.” He leaned closer, his beautiful face nearly as close as it had been in the gazebo. “I can see it forming in your eyes. That remote nothingness you wear like armor. Hiding you from me.”

I swallowed hard, feeling like his words had just sliced me open and left me bleeding anew. It unnerved and terrified me that he saw so much of me—that all my efforts to keep this man at arm’s length and keep him from having a piece of me were for nothing. I wanted to tell him that I hated it, too. That I didn’t know how to keep it from building back up.

“Siren,” Malik pleaded, cupping my face, “talk to me.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, then straightened my shoulders and glared back at him, pushing down the torrent of emotions I was feeling until I had them in a vicious hold and under my control once more.

“I’m not your siren, Mali—Your Majesty,” I declared, quickly correcting myself. “I’m not your anything.”

He lowered his hand and straightened as well. “If that’s true, then who was that woman in my arms just now? Who was that beautifully unhindered creature that fell apart as she cried my name and took her pleasure?”

I refused to let myself react to his words. “We both know that meant nothing to you,” I said coldly, lashing out at him and hating myself for it.

“Meant nothing?” he repeated, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Do you really think so little of me? I know you are Halmarish, and a maiden besides. Do you honestly believe I would use you so callously?”

I flinched at that. “No,” I admitted honestly, “but I do think—”

A throat cleared.

We both turned our heads, and I wanted to curse all the Nine and their followers in that moment, because the absolute last two people I wanted to see right now stood there.

Leif wore a look of concern mixed with suspicion, while Priya, who stood beside him, hid her suspicion behind a smiling mask, but her eyes said she wanted to murder me.

“Are we interrupting something?” she asked blithely.

I stepped away from Malik and the plant at my back. “No, nothing.”

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Leif murmured. He studied me, no doubt taking in my flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled appearance, before glaring daggers at Malik.

“I’m fine,” I replied stiffly, purposely not looking at Priya as I stepped around her. “Excuse me, I think I have had enough celebrating for one night. I’m going to turn in.”

Leif placed his hand on my back. “Allow me to escort you.”

I nodded and pointedly didn’t look back.