“Pali,” he crooned my name, sounding nothing like what I’d heard over the years as we’d teased and played. Gone was the formal, deferential, teasing older brother’s best friend. My name on Syndrian’s lips was a brand marking not just me, but my name and my soul, as his. “If we do this, I will not let you go. I won’t give up what’s mine to those thieves.”
“So then take me from them.” My brazen challenge hung between us. I looked into his eyes, flares of passion emboldening my words. “But please…not because you want to rescue Biko’s little sister. Because you want me for yourself. If you do.”
I suffered a moment’s insecurity as I dropped my head back against the door. I was wretched, dressed in a cloak that stunk of horse, with unkempt hair and a wrinkled dress. I feared I’d assumed too much. Thought too highly of the tempting looks Syndrian and I had traded year after year. I’d wanted a kiss, a taste of this man, but now I was asking him to claim me? To make certain, no matter who my father tried to marry me off to, that I would never belong to anyone but him? It was a futile request. One I knew he couldn’t abide. Neither one of us had control over this game. We were little more than checkers being moved on a board by an impossibly powerful hand.
“IfI want you?” He leaned a little more weight against me, and my body responded, never having felt this delicious, thrilling kind of contact before. While I’d long studied his thick thighs and sturdy arms, having those legs pressed to mine, those arms caging me against the door… I’d never imagined, couldn’t have possibly dreamed, the way this connection felt.
I shifted my hips greedily, the pressure of him leaving me aching. The thunder of my heartbeat in my chest was a minor distraction compared to the liquid heat that throbbed between my legs. Forbidden, yes, but this felt…perfect.Hefelt perfect. Right. I could not imagine anyone else—not an Otleich, not a prince, no one—whose thighs and shoulders and hair and lips could turn my insides to jelly. Whose humor and kindness and creativity could earn not only my trust but admiration.
“I have wanted you since the first time I set eyes on you,” he breathed. His nose touched mine again. Our faces were so close, I could only see his light lashes as he blinked those sky-blue eyes. “Well”—he chuckled—“maybe not when we were both teens. Certainly not in the ways I do now. But there has been no one for me except you. Not then, not now.”
He lifted my chin with a finger, his other arm over my shoulder, his hand splayed against the planks of the door. “You’re clever,” he whispered, bringing his lips close to my ear. His soft breath raised the tiny hairs on my arms and brought a needy purr to my throat. “And you’re funny, when you’re not playing a game.”
“Hmm? Whatever do you mean?” I queried lazily, the mention of games breaking through the erotic haze.
I felt his lips against my neck then, and I gasped, drawing rough breaths as I focused every bit of attention I could muster on his next move.
“You’re mean when you play,” he teased. I could feel the curve of his smile against my skin. “You’re so competitive. Demanding. Intense. I imagine that’s what you’re like with everything you’re passionate about.”
He was correct in that. I’d been a child who stormed about, moaned, and complained mercilessly whenever I lost a game. But I also hated being petulant; I’d been forced to improve my playing so I would not be provoked to bad tempers.
“I am very passionate about backgammon,” I said, my voice carrying on a heated exhale. “And many other things. Like my freedom.”
“Mmm-mmm.” Syndrian trailed his fingertips from my chin down to my throat, his tender attention setting my skin ablaze. “Anything else, Pali? What do you want so passionately that you would ride into the square like the demons of Ástleysi were on your heels?”
At the mention of my haste, I remembered exactly why I’d sought out Syndrian. Yes, I wanted this, wanted him. But all the desire in the world would not matter if I did not find the answers I sought.
With his fingers at my collar and his nose buried deep in my hair, I said nearly without thinking, “Goblins. That’s what I’d wanted. And your brother Flynn’s connection to them.”
ChapterEight
Iheard Syndrian’s breath stall in his chest, the sweet, sensuous heat against my ears extinguished like a fire in a sudden rain. His fingertips froze at my collar, and his entire body went rigid.
“What did you say?” he rasped, his voice so filled with shock that guilt instantly replaced the sensuous fever his presence had fueled in my limbs.
I grabbed the hand that had stroked my neck and met his eyes. “My question is a matter of life and death. Some have died, and my own life is in question. I need to understand.”
He released me as suddenly as if he’d shoved me aside. His hips lifted from mine. His face disentangled from the wild strands of my hair. Syndrian narrowed his eyes and glared in disbelief as he backed away from me.
My body tipped forward, immediately missing him. I yearned for his hardness. His strength. I swayed on my heels and gathered my wits. As much as my body wanted him, my mind demanded information.
“What,” he repeated, slowly, with a measure of controlled anger I’d never heard in his voice before. “did you say?”
I swallowed hard and looked down at my clutched hands. “Flynn,” I repeated. “I need to understand Flynn’s connection to the goblins. I need to—”
Before I could utter another sound, Syndrian was upon me again, his enormous form against mine, his palm holding my chin steady. “Do not say that word. By the gods, it’s lethal to even think it!”
His frustration was obvious now, and a rush of sour saliva filled my mouth.
“I understand the risks.” My whisper was equally harsh, with an added edge of defensiveness. “You’ve no right to stop me from inquiring!”
“Pali.” He whispered my name not with the sensual affection of a lover. He scolded me as though I were nothing more than an ignorant child. “If you value anyone, including yourself, you will never, ever say what you just said again. Do you have so little regard for the safety of those around you? For yourself?”
At his biting words, I flung his hand from my face and slipped away from him, stumbling toward the empty hearth. “How dare you.” I seethed. “You speak as if you have an inkling of what I’m up against! I assure you, Syndrian, you do not.”
He closed his eyes momentarily, as if gathering his strength. Or his patience. Suddenly, I realized I did not want this. I did not want to be the object of some misplaced injury, some misunderstanding about who I was and what I had intended. I’d come seeking answers, but I never truly wanted to hurt Flynn. I could have run to my brother, to Idony. Could have made many choices, but I chose to find this man. Syndrian. The one person I would truly lose once my betrothal was announced.
Syndrian looked over his shoulder at the door, his face determined. Determined to leave. I could not let him go without clearing this mess between us.