Page 165 of Crown of Darkness
And gods, I can’t breathe again, but this time it’s for another reason entirely. This time I feel toomuch. He kisses me as if we’re both trying to lose ourselves in each other, the slick slide of his tongue a lash against mine. His thumb digs into my uninjured thigh, inching higher.
“Make it hurt,” I beg.
Make me feel.
He pushes away, both of us reeling a little and breathing hard.
We stare at each other.
The line that once held me safe from his advances has been crossed. Obliterated. And he did it deliberately.
Resting on his knuckles, he stares into my eyes as if he’s trying to see through my soul. And then he laughs under his breath and shakes his head before he steps away. “No.”
No?
“What do you mean?”
Edain turns around, the simple linen of his shirt clinging to his shoulders. “I mean no. I won’t be the tool you can use to make yourself bleed again.” Wiping a hand over his lips, he licks his fingers as if he can still taste me. “Kiss me when you want it to stop hurting, Princess, and I might think about it.”
That’s the problem.
I never want it to stop hurting.
Pain means life. Pain is an end to the nothingness. Pain is a reminder that I’m still here. I’m still me. And sometimes, it’s the only way to remind myself.
Edain sees it in my face. “I might be your mother’s fucktoy, but I’m not about to become her daughter’s toy too.” He crosses to the window and twitches the curtains aside, staring out into the night. The distant fires highlight the stark lines of his face. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Game?”
Edain allows the curtain to fall, and somehow it makes the room feel smaller. “You may have fooled the rest of the court, but you don’t fool me.” He turns around, his expression dark. “Your mother is beyond furious. I’ve spent all evening trying to talk her out of marching into Evernight with every warrior she can get her hands on. She’s still fucking sobbing in the ashes of that tree.”
My lashes lower. “A regrettable mistake. The prince of Evernight chose his target well.”
“You and I both know the prince never went anywhere near that tree.”
It’s a dangerous accusation.
And I’ve never entirely known how much I can trust him.
Edain’s father married my mother and then died in a hunting “accident” several years later. By the end of the week, Edain was in my mother’s bed, and he’s been there ever since.
“The gift of fire runs in your mother’s line,” he continues, his eyes glittering with an expression I can’t quite name, “but your sister’s never been able to master it the way you have. And the way that tree lit up, as though someone had packed it with explosive powder, makes me think magic was involved. So if it wasn’t your sister, and it certainly wasn’t your mother, then….”
“Are you trying to suggestIhad something to do with it?” I load my voice with every ounce of haughtiness I can find, and this time, I hop off the bench and step toward him. “Do you hear yourself? I am the Crown Princess of Asturia. I am my mother’s heir. And I have always been loyal to her. If youeversuggest such a betrayal by my hand, then I will be sure to—”
“What?” He doesn’t back away. “Are you going to murder my father? Are you going to force me into your bed? Threaten to cut my throat if I don’t behave?” The muscle in his throat bobs, and he captures my jaw in a merciless grip. “Do you know, right now, you look exactly like your mother’s heir. Every inch of you.”
I tear my face away. “Don’t you ever touch me.”
“Again,” he says softly.
“Ever.”
His hand tenses into a fist, but he paces away from me before spinning on his heel.
We stare at each other, like enemies daring the other to cross the undrawn line between us.
“Have a care,” he finally murmurs. “Your mother is right on the edge. It seems someone stole her crown as well as setting her favorite tree on fire. She wants to burn things.”
