“Thalia,” he warned. “You’re seriously pissing me off.”
“What else is new?” she snapped, turning away. “You can help Laina run the rest of the meeting. I’ve done my duty, and now I’m going to visit Archer.”
His hand flashed out, grabbed her arm, and forced her to turn back to him. “Tell me you aren’t marrying Sorin.”
Thalia’s eyes flared with anger. “I’ll tell you no such thing.”
“You don’t want him, Thalia. Why would you marry someone you don’t want?”
“He’s an extremely attractive man,” Thalia huffed, then glanced over at Sorin who was deep in discussion with Ranulf, his Conclave chief. “Of course I’d want to marry him.”
Red filled Bastien’s vision and his instinct was to pick Thalia up, throw her over his shoulder, and walk out of the hall with her as his prize.
Instead, he jerked her into his body, dipped his head, and murmured just low enough so she could hear. “I’m going to prove it to you otherwise right now.”
Holding Thalia tight, Bastien bent distance back to his cottage, into his bedroom where he pushed her down on the bed.
CHAPTER 21
Thalia
While this might be everything I’ve ever wanted, I scramble up from the bed in protest. “You can’t just take me out of Conclave Hall like that. How does that look to all the royals?”
“I clearly don’t give a fuck, but if I’m lucky, Sorin and any other thinking to offer marriage will know it’s futile.”
I screech in protest because that’s just bullying.
And I keep to myself the part of me that’s relieved to see he’s able to experience strong emotion. I’m not sure if it’s because he truly has feelings for me or if he’s acting on old instinct.
I try to brush past him, intent on visiting Archer, but Bastien’s big hand goes to the center of my chest. He backs me up to the bed again, and with a push, I land on my butt, my heels planted on the wooden floor.
“Stay put,” he says in a low rumble. He removes his breastplate and armor, then pulls his shirt off and drops it to the floor. “I told you I was going to prove it to you… you don’t want to marry Sorin.”
I should be offended, incensed, and fighting back on principle alone. But the fact he’s baring all those glorious muscles and that tanned skin my hands know so very well has knocked me senseless.
He sounds menacing and sexy at the same time, and I very much want him to prove it to me that I don’t want Sorin because in the process of him teaching me that lesson, I’m hoping he will learn something too.
“Don’t move,” Bastien warns again as he walks over to one of the chairs and sits. Head bent over his task, he makes short work of the boots and undoes the buttons of his pants as he rises.
Never taking his eyes from mine, Bastien moves toward me, fly open, that golden trail of hair that starts below his navel disappearing inside.
He bends, places his hands on my knees, and spreads my legs so he can squat before me, bringing us eye to eye. My legs are completely bare to him as the slit in my dress is peeled open, but it’s my face he stares at.
“Tell me what you promised Sorin,” he demands quietly.
I shake my head, because the prospect of me marrying Sorin is exactly why Bastien is before me half naked with his hands on my legs. I’m not giving up this advantage.
Bastien growls low and places his hands on the backs of my ankles, stroking up my calves. The calluses on his hands cause goose bumps, and I clutch the quilted bedspread tightly in my fists. My breath hitches when his hands reach the backs of my knees and then smooth around to the tops of my thighs.
“Tell me,” he again demands, gliding his palms up toward my hips, pushing the fabric of my dress away. His gaze drops briefly to my white panties, his only barrier now, before lifting to me again as he awaits my answer.
I stubbornly hold my silence, but my breathing has quickened so much, my chest rises and falls like I’ve run a marathon. My heart gallops away from me, and I’ve never been more excited to see what the future holds than I am at this moment.
Bastien spreads his fingers wide, his thumbs blazing a delicious trail up the insides of my thighs. My breath stutters and I close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hands as they creep higher.
“Let’s get you out of this dress.” My eyes fly open, astounded he’s not trying to force me to tell him about Baynor. His tone is gentle, which is confusing.
Grasping my hands, Bastien gently tugs me into a standing position. We aren’t touching, but we’re so close I can feel the heat coming off his body. I tip my head back to look at him, but he’s not looking at my face anymore.