Page 68 of The Assassin's Dancer
Ruby arches her back, walls clenching, while my free hand squeezes the soft flesh of her thigh. I just can’t get enough of her.
Fuck the crown. After tonight, I’m never letting her out of my sight again. If she wants a new title, she can be Mrs fucking Verekov.
“Oh, my,” she gasps. Then she screams and throws her head back into the bedsheets.
“Good girl, Ruby.” I drag my tongue up her folds. “Let me hear those pretty screams as you come for me.”
Ruby shatters, melting away into a yelping puddle beneath my tongue. She pants and gasps, rolling her hips with each throb of pleasure. I can see it too, her pussy clenches while I grip her thighs.
Eventually, her screams give way to tired moans and her body softens against the sheets. As her eyes close, I rise off the floor, planting kisses on her belly. She nuzzles into me, her hand stroking the back of my head.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open. There’s still bliss in her irises, but it’s fading. She’ll be fine in a few hours.
Touching my lips to her cheek, I cover her with the bedsheets. “Sleep now,” I tell her. “I’ll wake you when it’s safe to leave.”
Smiling, she nestles into the pillows and rolls onto her side.
I leave her to rest, moving to the other side of the room so I’m not tempted to join her. But just as I take a seat in a plush armchair, I catch sight of her gown crumpled up on the floor.
Sighing, I reach for it, but then a page of parchment flutters down from the skirt. I catch it before it falls. My heart skips a beat when I realise just what was hidden in her gown.
“So you found it, after all,” I whisper, my eyes skimming over the lines of the addresses. Glancing back over to the sleeping princess, I tuck the parchment into my pocket.
“My beautiful, clever girl.”
I’m about to elevate my criminal status from assassin to princess-kidnapper, and I dare any king – or smug prince – to try to stop me.
24
AMARYLLIS
The bed I’m tucked up in creaks as I roll over. I’m back at Kasimir’s townhouse, in his spare bedroom, shivering in the dark. Alone.
There are at least five blankets on top of me, and Meera’s dressed me in her warmest gown, but an icy cold grips my bones. It feels like I’ve just stepped out of a hot bath on a harsh winter morning.
I can’t stop shaking.
When I came to, I was in the parlour with Meera. She forced me to drink awful tea that burned my throat. At first, I tried to push it away, but when she said it would help with the uneasiness in my stomach, I downed it in a heartbeat.
While wrapping me up in blankets, she explained that I’d been drugged and that, while I somehow managed to get the letter, Kasimir had to rescue me from Andrick. I remember none of this, of course. Only the faint taste of berries on my tongue, a young woman slapping me on the rear telling me to ‘go get ‘em’ and then there’s something else – something much more forbidden. It scares the cold away if I think about it too hard.
I haven’t seen Kasimir since the mission. Meera said he was already in bed, but I’m certain he’s just furious at me. Not onlydid I get myself drugged, but he had to step in and save the day again. If I wasn’t so unbearably cold I’d be on my way back to the palace, hanging my head in shame.
For once, can I not be so… pathetic!
Huffing, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wrap the thickest blanket around my shoulders. I know I’m not actually cold. Meera told me it’s just a side effect of the bliss.
Still, there’s no fireplace in this room, and I’m determined to go and sit in front of one.
Even if it’s just to watch something burn.
My door creaks softly as I push it open. There’s a fireplace in the parlour that was lit before. If I can just find some more logs, I’m sure I can get it going again. How hard can it be?
“Where do you think you’re going?”
My feet pause on the carpet. Kasimir’s door is open, and he’s leaning against the frame, dressed in a loose black sleepshirt and breeches. His dark hair is mussed from sleep, and for some reason, the cold feeling in my chest vanishes when our eyes meet – but it swiftly returns as his gaze hardens upon me.
Of course he’s angry.
