Page 77 of Given

Laurent’s body was nothing like that. His chest was smooth and hard, his flat, pink nipples strangely alluring. The muscles in his shoulders and arms strained taut as he held me down.

And the hard length between my thighs felt a lot bigger than anything I’d seen in that courtyard.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmured.

My breath hitched. I swallowed thickly. “You can’t.”

“Not yet, no. Not until we’re wed.”

He said it like it was inevitable. Like he was ready to announce it to the whole kingdom. “I haven’t said yes, Your Grace.”

“You will. You’re running low on options, Princess.”

“I thought we already established I don’t have any.” It was probably foolish to taunt him while he was on top of me, but the tumult of the past twenty-four hours made me throw caution to the wind. “If I didn’t believe it before, I do now. You could force me to the altar with a word. I’m not likely to forget how it felt to have my wishes replaced with yours.”

His smile held a hint of roguishness. “I’m not as powerful as Varick would have you believe. My magic springs from my veins. If my hands aren’t free to place my blood on the person or object I wish to bind, my power is useless. If you’re worried about it, Princess, just tie me up. Then I’m yours to do with as you will.”

More heat streaked to my center. I drew an unsteady breath. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“I’m simply assuring you there’s nothing to fear about becoming my wife. Besides, I don’t think you want to return to Rolund and a life worshipping mirrors and drinking watered-down goat blood. It sounds dull as fuck. I promise you my court—and my bed—are a great deal more entertaining.”

The mention of Rolund made ice slide down my spine. “Let me up. Please.”

He kept me in suspense for another long moment. Then he was gone. A cool breeze stirred over me just as I registered him standing next to the bed. He faced away from me as he wrapped a sheet around his waist.

I scrambled to my feet and shook out my skirts. I couldn’t tell him about Rolund. If I did, I’d have to tell him about the solstone. And I wasn’t at all certain I wanted Laurent to know Rolund’s plans. The minute I divulged them, Laurent would prepare for war.

And he’d almost certainly arrest Rowena, if not execute her. He projected an image of a merry, irreverent king, but I’d seen behind his mask often enough to know how serious he took his reign.

Laurent faced me, the sheet knotted low on his hips. His gaze swept down my body. “You look well.” He smiled. “My blood suits you.”

I moved away from the bed. We faced off like adversaries in the darkened chamber. A banked fire glowed in the hearth behind him, limning his body in gold. “It seems mine suits you as well, Your Grace. My elven blood.”

His gaze narrowed, his teasing demeanor vanishing like smoke. “You spoke to Varick. Did you manifest a gift?”

“I…”

He closed on me quickly and seized my arm in an iron grip. “Answer me, Given,” he demanded in a low voice.

“Yes! I mean, I don’t know.” His sudden intensity started my heart pounding again. How quickly the mask slips.

“Yes or you don’t know? Which is it?”

“He said it was called farseeing. But I can’t be sure what happened.”

Something fierce lit his gaze. “I knew you would be powerful.”

“You knew about the elven-born, but you didn’t tell me.”

“You needed time to embrace your vampire side. I felt it imprudent to burden you with rumors of an entirely different ancestry.”

“Rumors or facts?” I lifted my chin. “I may be young, but I’m not a fool, Your Grace. You are the king. If there are secrets in Nor Doru, you’re in a position to know all of them, including which of your noble families harbor vampires with elven blood.”

His expression turned shrewd. Too late, I realized that tipping my head back put my mouth in almost perfect alignment with his.

He took advantage, sliding his other hand through my hair and lowering his mouth to mine. I stiffened, but it was a token resistance and he knew it. When I pressed my lips together in a bid to keep him out, he merely pressed harder. I opened on a whimper, granting him entry. If he was a marauding army, I was a castle in full surrender. His tongue stroked and sucked, and I felt the bar dragging along my bottom lip. The sensation triggered the memory of that wicked piece of metal dragging across more intimate places, and I moaned into his mouth.

He smoothed a hand over my hip and around to my backside. He squeezed hard, turning my moan into a gasp as he pulled my hips into his. He deepened the kiss and kneaded my backside through my skirts, his long fingers dangerously close to my most private, secret place. It wasn’t the kiss a lord gives his lady. No, it was a taste of what I could expect in his bed. And gods help me, I wanted more than a taste.

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