Page 36 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

Mother rises, concern etching deep furrows into her brow. “Another headache?”

Leesa nods, trying to mask her discomfort. “It’s nothing. Just tired, I suppose. I may not have been flying, but I was standing watch all night. And being carried isn’t nearly as easy as stretching out on a dragon.”

Except that’s exactly how she described it.

Maybe Leesa is having a reflective mood and correcting misunderstandings.

“Let me find a healer.” Mother folds us both in her arms, her hug a welcome reminder of less complicated days. “Rest now, my dear. I’ll take care of your sister while you get some sleep. At this time of night, everyone should be in their beds.”

Leesa thanks our mother before extricating herself. Her eyes linger on me, but she says nothing more as she sweeps from the room.

Once alone, I push off the couch, restless energy coiling in my chest.

Mother is right. No one should be up this late, especially not working.

I wait a few more minutes before opening the door. In the empty halls, I retrace my steps back to Sterling’s chambers. He’s on a wooden chair, poring over maps and scrolls spread out on the table in front of him. The weight of the monarchy is already pressing down on his shoulders.

The crown isn’t his yet. If I spill the secret I’m hiding about how the Bardas stole it ages ago, it may never be.

Is that something I want to do though? Report Sterling’s ancestors’ thievery? And then what? Would that mean I’d end up sitting on the throne instead?

It’s a problem I’ve been turning over in my head since his brother admitted the truth in the midst of the drachen attack. “Enough for tonight. It’s time for you to go to bed.”

He glances up, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not my queen yet, Lark.” He’s not even surprised by my late-night visit or casual attire.

“Yetbeing the operative word.” I cross the room to him. My hands find his, strong and calloused from years of wielding both sword and reins. “Come on. You need rest, and I need you.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve tasted your lips.” All teasing leaves his eyes, replaced with a hunger that sizzles my blood.

I lean into him and whisper against his lips. “Then why not feast now? Our fasting has ended.” I kiss him, meaning for it to be delicate and light. Teasing. To show him how much I missed him and entice him to go to his bed with me.

But he heeds my words.

He feasts on me.

Sterling devours my mouth. His hands rove over my back, pulling me down and forward into him.

And I am gladly devoured. Molten desire permeates my body everywhere he touches me.

His need feeds into mine. I step between him and the table and straddle his lap, giving in to the heat he builds with every swipe of tongue and caress of fingers. I tear at his clothes, fumbling with the ties on his pants.

He plucks at the string of my nightgown, which slips down my body and renders me naked in front of his seat. I groan as the cool air teases my bare flesh.

“Not fair.” I stroke my hands over his trousers and find him already hard. “You’re fully dressed.” I shove the clinging fabric out of my way.

Sterling pushes me back, and for a moment I regret speaking. “Then let me even the playing field.” My eyes widen with anticipation as he rips his shirt over his head while standing. His trousers, already loosened, slide down his legs. “Better?”

Taking in his sculpted abs and chest, my mouth goes dry, my body hot with desire. “It’s not a throne, but it will do.” I force him back down onto the chair and straddle him.

His laughter becomes a moan as I settle myself on top of him, rotating my hips until I get things just right for me.

As I start to move, he throws his head back and huffs out a low rumble. The sinful gleam in his gaze drives me on, and I trail kisses over his neck.

He buries his face in my chest, licking along the inside of my breasts. My movements bounce them up and down in front of his eager mouth. I gasp as he licks over them and moan when he sucks on my nipple.

Leaning back, I brace myself on the heavy, paper-littered table, focused only on the man in front of me.

Goose bumps prickle my skin, pulling me out of the haze of enveloping pleasure. “Sterling, what are you doing?”

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