Page 74 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

The gentleness of her kiss compared to her biting words undid me, tearing through barriers. In that moment, it no longer mattered that she was my captive, my charge, or that she’d likely stab me in the back given the opportunity. Who I was, my past, all of it fled. I’d never had a woman affect me that way. It was as if she wielded a magic of her own—a healing balm.

Sweet fire flooded my veins. A gasp slipped between kisses as I pushed Ilya onto her back and slid my bulk over her, careful to keep my weight upon my arms braced on either side of her head. Her lips tasted better than any rich dessert, an exotic flavor I could savor all day and never get enough of. By The Four, I missed this—longed for it since the brief taste of days before.

Stiff nipples pressed against my chest through the thin material of her nightdress, sending another bolt of fire straight to my loins. The thin fabric was too much of a barrier. I wanted it gone.

I settled more of my weight onto Ilya, eliciting a little moan from her soft mouth against mine. My hand fisted in the material of her nightdress near her thighs. A few tugs and it’d be up and out of the way.

“Stop,” she gasped, jerking her mouth away.

A command had never been harder to obey. “Did I hurt you?”

Her chest rose and fell against mine. “No, but we can’t. I can’t.”

Poison would have been easier to swallow.A kiss, she only asked for a kiss.Think of anything else—snow, sharpening a sword, the cabin.

No thought chilled my veins quite so well as that one. With a groan, I released her and rolled to the side, staring her down in the darkness. My cock still strained against my pants, aching.

“Would you have denied me after the Goddess’s festival too?” The thought spilled out into the night unchecked. Was it all just a tease to see how far she could undo me?

“No. I wanted…I…”

Never had Ilya seemed so uncertain, almost innocent. I fisted my hand in the sheets to stop from reaching out and touching her.

Her next words were so quiet I barely heard them. “It’s my blooding cycle.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

I adjusted myself, trying to ease the ache between my legs without success. “If it wasn’t?”

A sliver of moonlight shone through the window, sparkling across her blinking eyes. “I might still make you suffer.”

I grinned through my agony as she turned away. A witty politician—and a brutal fighter.

Chapter33

Ilya

Ahaze of exhaustion clouded my thoughts, accompanied by a small headache that grew in intensity as the morning drawled on.

Curse you, Lucien.

He’d thwarted all my plans. Then, his antics kept me awake long after his breathing evened out in sleep. Not only could I not ease the desire he ignited, but his warm presence in the bed had proved impossible to ignore no matter how I tried. All I could think of as I tried to sleep was his lips on mine, the fine smattering of hair on his bare chest, the hardness between his legs when he’d slid atop me.

My nails dug into my palm. I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d wanted him, right then and there, despite what he’d done and despite my blooding cycle.

Wanting him that way made everything more difficult, especially when I needed to focus. Soon, we’d leave. Soon, I’d lose the chance to learn more about the rebels or convince Lucien of what I believed to be his true identity.

And soon, I’d have way too much time to consider last night.

“Sleep well?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sudden gruff voice behind me.

Stefan stalked to my side, a dark fur thrown about his shoulders despite the unseasonal warmth in the air. Horses were led by twos into the yard, freshly brushed and ready to be hitched to the carriage and supply wagon. Others bore saddles, ready to be ridden back to Zhine.

“It was a very comfortable room,” I replied, conscious of Ryszard’s guards milling about. “I am grateful for your hospitality. I only wish we could enjoy it longer.”

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