Her inner armor was strapped on tight tonight. Perhaps he could strip her of it. How he loved when she softened. In those moments, she couldn’t hide her desire from him.
A desire she once claimed stemmed from thoughts of Laban. But what if it didn’t?
Roux positioned himself behind her and leaned forward, flattening his hands on the window’s frame. His body all but caged her in, and he loved it. “You sound jealous.” Was she?
She humphed and slowly pivoted to face him. “Warden, I’ve never been jealous a day in my life. But if it ever happens, you’ll be the first to know. Because my dagger will be buried hilt deep in your ball sack.”
He inserted his knee between her legs. They stared at each other, searching, searching. Soon panting. His cells became kindling, sparks erupting inside him. “Are you saying you wouldn’t care if I spent the night with someone else?” he asked with a silky tone. “Perhaps even multiple someones?”
“Care?” She snorted. “I welcome such an occurrence. In fact, I’m happy to pick another for you. Yeah, I’m liking this idea. We’re going to attend the party, you and I, and find ourselves a couple of bang buddies. You choose mine, I choose yours, and the madness between us will end.”
Sharp possessiveness sliced him, nearly unleashing a roar of denial that struggled against a fraying tether. He snapped his teeth at her, then nodded. “Very well.” If she wished to go this route, they would go this route. How far would she push it? “Pick a companion for me. Perhaps I’ll make proper use of this one.”
As she sputtered for a response, Roux wrapped his arms around her and flashed to the land below. The crowd had already doubled in size, clusters of women as far as the eye could see. Many were already drunk and dancing around a bonfire.
A storm continued to brew overhead, the wind growing noticeably colder. A thousand different scents clashed. Roux burrowed his nose in Blythe’s hair, breathing in the delectable fragrance of honeysuckle and rose. Mmm. Nothing better.
“We should get started,” she rasped, clutching his biceps.
“Yes.” Let her go? He didn’t think he could. “We should.”
She didn’t back away. His ribs squeezed tight. Whatever happened between them in the coming days, she must win the tournament. He could then escort her to Harpina and lock her up while he researched ways to cut out a phantom’s heart with trinite without cutting out a phantom’s heart with trinite. Maybe he would visit Nova, his home world. There, he could traverse the Hall of Secrets. A terrible, wonderful place where secrets had collected over the ages, each whispering from the walls. Surely someone somewhere had faced a similar dilemma and found the perfect solution.
There was a way to do this and ensure Blythe lived. There must be a way. What if he could claim her metaphorical heart instead of the literal one?
Of course, hadn’t he already cut out her figurative heart when he’d murdered her consort?
“Couple of ground rules,” she said, as he wrestled to remember their current topic of conversation. Even the crowd faded to the background. “When you’re selecting my evening lady caller, try to remember I prefer those who haven’t invaded Harpina.”
Roux flinched at the harsh admonition, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let her go. Despite the barb, she hadn’t stiffened in his arms. She seemed almost...absorbed by him.
“Noted.” His gaze dipped to her lips. Lush, soft, and cherry red. He swallowed. “What else?”
“I like the usual things, I guess.” She batted her lashes at him. “Sexy and strong with a sense of humor and a total obsession with me.”
Was this how she was when happy? Vibrant and full of life? Eager to tease and flirt? To tempt and lure?
“Lyla,” he rasped, and there was no stopping the movement of his hands. He dragged his fingers up and down her sides. Anytime he grazed a patch of bare skin, new goose bumps erupted across her limbs.
“Yes, Rue?” She grinned, then frowned. The grin reappeared a second later...only to fall again. Then it snapped back and lingered.
Warring inside herself, unsure what to welcome or fight with him? He knew the feeling! “I like sexy and strong as well. If she doesn’t rip out my organs, even better. Just in case you were wondering.”
Her frown reappeared and stayed put. She said, “Good to know. But do you think you can keep the sausage factory closed to the public for an hour? I’d like to reacquaint myself with the ladies free of your interference. To better select your perfect match, of course.”
In other words, she planned to check out the competition, plot against Roux, or trash-talk. Or any combination of the three. He heaved a heavy sigh. Forcing her to remain at his side wasn’t something he wanted to do. With this harphantom, free will mattered.
“Go,” he said, sliding his hands down to enjoy a final squeeze of her backside. “The sausage factory closed for maintenance as soon as you issued your threat.”
The smile returned, and he almost regretted his sudden bout of morals. “The Warden has jokes. How unexpected.”
“The Warden does not have jokes.” Not usually.
“Dang you. How is even your denial cute?”
Cute? “Do us both a favor and pick yourself for me, she-beast.” There was no stopping the words. “I will do bad things to get your hands on me again.”Or my hands on you.
“I—you—oh!” Frowning again, she pulled from his embrace one step at a time. A slow retreat, yet a retreat all the same. But even as she walked backward, putting more and more distance between them, she held his gaze. “I’d probably be doing the other women a favor if I did. You’re terrible at first, second, and third impressions.”