“Maybe we should give them something to really gossip about.” His knuckles brushed her collarbone, drawing her attention back to him. “Unless I still frighten you.”
Tella gave him a wild smile, even as her heart leaped against her rib cage. She needed him to know that she could do this. “You never frightened me.”
“Care to prove that?” Jacks’s bright eyes fell to her mouth.
A dare.
The blood in Tella’s veins surged hotter.
Tella didn’t usually think before kissing a young man. One moment she just found his mouth on top of hers, or hers on top of his, followed by tongues seeking entry as hands fumbled around her body. But she didn’t suppose kissing Jacks would be like that. She had a feeling his skilled hands knew exactly what to do, where to touch her, how hard to press. And his lips—they were being playful now but she didn’t know if they would be gentle with her mouth or a little rough, and her pulse raced at the thought of either possibility.
Jacks cupped her cheek and twirled her in another circle. “Help me convince them,” he whispered.
Tella didn’t know why she hesitated.
It’s just one kiss.
And she was suddenly very curious. He would be the emperor one day, and he wanted to kiss Tella while all of the most important people of the Empire watched.
She slid her hand up to his neck. His skin felt colder, shivering beneath her fingers. Clearly Jacks was not as serene as he appeared.
“It seems as if you’re the one who’s nervous now,” Tella teased.
“I’m just wondering if you’ll think differently of me after this.” Then his mouth was crashing against hers. He tasted like exquisite nightmares and stolen dreams, like the wings of fallen angels and bottles of fresh moonlight. Tella might have moaned against his lips as his tongue slipped between hers and explored.
Every solid inch of him pressed against every soft, curving piece of her. His fingers knotted and tugged at her curls. Her hands roamed under the hem of his shirt, discovering the firm muscles of his lower back. It was the way people kissed behind locked doors and darkened alleys, not a kiss for lit dance floors where everyone in the Empire could see. Yet Jacks didn’t seem to care.
His fingers found the ribbon around her neck and slid beneath it, crushing her lips even closer to his. He wasn’t tasting her, he was devouring her, as if he’d just found something he’d thought he had lost. Then his hands were sliding underneath the ropes of jewels crossing her bare back; he must have torn off his gloves because his fingers were icy and bold against her heated skin, clutching and claiming and making her wonder if this wasn’t a charade after all.
She whimpered.
He groaned.
It was the sort of kiss she could have lived in. The sort of kiss worth dying for.
God’s teeth.
A kiss worth dying for. Only one person in the history of the Empire had ever kissed like—
Jacks bit her, sharp teeth digging into her lip hard enough to draw warm blood.
Tella pulled away abruptly, shoving her hand against his chest. There was no heartbeat.
Blood and saints. What had she done?
In front of her Jacks seemed to glow. His skin had been pale but now it appeared otherworldly in its radiance.
The ribbon once tied around her neck dangled from his slender fingers like some sort of prize, and a drop of the blood he’d spilled when he’d bitten her now rested at the edge of his narrow mouth.
Tella was going to be ill.
“What did you just do to me?” she breathed.
Jacks’s chest heaved almost as much as hers, and his eyes had gone feverish around the edges, but his voice was lazy once again, almost dispassionate as he said, “Don’t cause a scene right here, my love.”
“I think it’s too late for that.” She wanted to call him by his name, the Prince of Hearts, but she wasn’t quite ready to utter the words out loud.
His dimples reappeared, cunning this time, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.