Page 10 of The Rebel's Prize

"You aremywife," he said. "Not Charl's.Mine."

He stood abruptly, his chair toppling over with a crack that made her glad the room was warded. Before she knew what was happening, he was at her side of the table and pulling her out of her own chair.

"Mine," he repeated, then crushed his mouth down on hers.

CHAPTER3

She'd never been kissed by a thunderstorm, but she imagined it might feel something like this. Wild. Unconstrained. Spectacular. Terrifying. Possibly able to destroy your entire life. At the very least, breath stealing. She leaned into the kiss, still not entirely sure she wasn't dreaming. Lucien pressed against her. Her back against the wall, the frantic thump of her heartbeat in her ears, the sudden aching want consuming her. All these felt like things conjured up in a fever dream. Her fingers gripped his hair, pulling him closer. He seemed glad to oblige. Seemed as though he might be happy to never stop kissing her, even though she wasn't sure what part of the kiss was passion and what was anger.

And that was the disorienting thing. She couldn't feelhim. Couldn’t feel the swirl of his emotions and magic that she was used to sharing through their bond. Leaving her with no idea what he was trying to do by kissing her. She didn't know what he wanted from her. Or what she wanted from him.

She had to make him stop or she would never be able to walk away. She forced her hands out of his hair down to the broad planes of his chest and shoved.

He let her. Stepping back, breathing hard, eyes wide as he stared down at her, the twist of his mouth half amusement, half frustration.

Not that she'd expected any other reaction. Even pushed to the limit, she didn't think him capable of pressing where he wasn't wanted. Not when it came to physical intimacy, at least. But as heart pounding and mind melting as that kiss had been, the physical intimacy was not her immediate concern. No, right now she had to work out how to make him leave.

So she could leave, too, and get back on Deandra's trail.

Pulling the frayed edges of her wits back together while ignoring the traitorous parts of her body that thought she was being an idiot and just wanted her to fling herself back into his arms was difficult. Her hands trembled, and she folded her arms as she slid a half step to the side, increasing the distance between them. Increasing her margin of safety.

Her ability to think.

"You should return to Lumia," she said, ignoring the breathy fogged tone of her voice. "I am perfectly capable of finding Deandra on my own."

His eyebrows rose. Which only focused her attention on the fact that his green eyes were now mostly black, his pupils wide with lust. "You haven't gotten very far." His voice wasn't entirely steady either.

She moved away another step. "Far enough. And I have encountered no difficulties." Not strictly true, but it had been nothing she couldn't handle. "Until today."

"I am a difficulty?"

"Yes," she said bluntly. "Why are you here?" Before he could reply, she added, "If you say, 'Because you're my wife,' I may hit you. I am not your possession, Lucien."

"Well, firstly because I wanted to know if you were alive."

Firstly?Her shoulders tensed. "Given you had the sanctii to track me down, that issue could have been settled relatively quickly."

"Secondly, because I wish for you toremainalive."

The bluntness of those words cleared her mind a little. "And I cannot do that without you?"

"It's clear that you have enemies. Powerful ones. Who seem to be growing reckless."

He was right about that. But wrong if he thought she would let him ruin his life trying to solve her problems.

As though he could read her mind, he said, "Before you say something ridiculous like your enemies are not my problem, I will remind you again of the fact that we aremarried."

"A marriage with an expiration date."

He took a half step forward, as though he wanted to deny that fact. But he stopped himself. "We will leave that discussion for another time. But that expiration date has not been reached. You promised me a year, Chloe. You have not given it to me."

"Other matters seemed more pressing."

"Than wedding vows? Vows, if I need to remind you, that you have made twice now."

"If you truly are concerned about helping me stay alive, then yes, they were more pressing than my vows."

Now it was his turn to fold his arms, distracting her momentarily with the flex of muscle under fabric. He still hadn't entirely regained the weight he'd lost when he'd been poisoned. But whatever he'd been doing for the last few weeks, it seemed to only sculpt the somewhat leaner planes of his body more sharply. "Be that as it may, the fact remains that I made vows, too. And I do not forsake them."

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