Page 96 of Queen of the Crimson Throne

I looked around the room, past the towering piles of books and clothes strewn about, my eyes landing on a chest of drawers adjacent to the bed.

I padded over to the dresser, immediately reaching for the top drawer when my eyes snagged on the small painted portrait resting on top.

The painting was tiny, small enough to easily fit in ones pocket.

I traced the small golden frame with my fingers as I surveyed the people within it.

The female was thin, her dark, curly hair cut just above her shoulders. She smiled tightly, but her blue eyes glimmered. The older male looked identical to Luka, but with longer hair that fell past his shoulders, stopping mid-chest. A youngling sat in front of the pair. The face was younger, rounder, and his hair longer, floppier, but it was him, it was Luka. He smiled brightly in the painting.

It was a portrait of Luka and his parents. My heart caught in my chest. I had never seen a picture of the three of them together. There weren't any of his parents or anyone in the palace. They looked so alike—it made me yearn for my own family. I blinked back the wetness forming at the corners of my vision.

Fuck.

Socks, I needed socks. I reminded myself as I blinked back tears.

I set the portrait back on the dresser, my gaze landing on a small glass bowl made of a dark green stone. In the bowl sat a bracelet of sorts, made up of grass and flowers. Magic emulated off the object, it had been spelled to keep the plants from dying I assumed. I picked up the bracelet, tracing my fingers over the intricate weaving of the blades of grass.

It was the bracelet I had made for Luka the afternoon we spent at the lake this past summer.

“I asked Kara to spell it for me when we returned from the Mystic Court.” Luka’s arms came around me on either side, caging me against the dresser, his fingers brushing over mine as they examined the bracelet. “She used her earth magic to bring the flowers back to life and spelled it so they’d live forever.”

“I can’t believe you kept it.” I turned around in his hold, his arms still on either side of me resting on the dresser as I looked up at him.

“Of course I did.” He moved his arms, his fingertips grazing the backs of my arms in the lightest touch, sending shivers scattering over my body. His fingers rested lightly on my elbows as we both looked at the bracelet. A lot had happened since I’d made him that bracelet.

“I didn’t mean to pry. I was looking for some socks and I got sidetracked.”

“Here, let me.” He moved around me, gently pulling open the second drawer and pulling out a pair of socks.

“Thank you.” I reached for the socks, but he stopped me, pulling them out of my reach.

“No, let me.” Before I could protest he was on his knees in front of me. I was suddenly too aware of how exposed my legs were. Images of him kneeling in front of me in an entirely different scenario burned in the back of my mind.

“Foot.” He gently tapped my foot and I raised it for him. He ever so carefully rolled the sock on my foot, taking extra good care to roll it up my leg to where it rested mid-calf.

Every brush of his fingers on my leg sent desire straight to my core.

“Other foot.” He directed me as he put my foot back on the ground and tapped the top of my remaining foot. I tried my best to steady my breath as he rolled the sock up my other foot, trying to steer my mind from the filthy thoughts that kept berating me. Of where else on my body I’d like his fingers.

Goddess, I hated that he had this effect on me.

As he finished, he let his hands drag up the back of my legs; I took a deep breath as they danced in a feather-light touch on the back of my knees. Although I was afraid to look, I was certain his gaze was fixed where it shouldn’t have been.

“I should go,” I all but panted.

He swallowed. “Okay.” His voice was strained, but he stood and I met his blazing eyes.

I turned to put the bracelet I was still grasping back on the dresser, but he stopped me with a hand on my wrist.

“You should keep it.”

I debated it for a moment. Part of me wanted this small piece of him.

“No. I want you to keep it. I made it for you after all.” I placed it in his palm, closing my hand around his. “Thank you again for last night.”

“Did you sleep the whole night?”

“I did, thank you. You’re like my own personal dreamcatcher or comfort blanket or something.”

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