No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. She refused to let it. She would do something, anything, and then...
The darkness came, and Blythe drifted into the oblivion.
20
THE CONFUSION
Roux woke as if someone had just punched him in the gut repeatedly. His eyelids popped open. Every muscle in his body went taut and hard as stone, as if he prepared to attack and defend. Instinct kicked on only a split second later, and he remained still, absorbing different details.
He lay on his back. On a floor. No wraiths loomed nearby. The screams had ceased, his prisoners secured in their cages, and he had no idea how it happened. Muted rays of morning sunlight seeped into a familiar bedroom, illuminating a cascade of dancing dust motes.
An unfamiliar weight pressed into his side. He frowned. Could it be...no, no, surely not. And yet, the harpy’s tempting scent enveloped him.
Dare he hope... When he felt the caress of her warm breath against his bare skin, a sensation he’d memorized as they’d kissed, his muscles hardened for an entirely different reason. She had draped herself over him? Willingly?
Slowly he craned his head. Another punch in the gut! Shewasdraped over him. Willingly. In fact, she lay on her side, curled into him, looking as contented as could be. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, her face aimed up at his. They exchanged breaths. But she wasn’t awake. She slept. She actually slept. As if she trusted him to oversee her protection while she was at her most vulnerable. But... That couldn’t be correct.
Blink-blink. The image never shifted. Her eyes remained closed, her long lashes casting shadows he longed to trace over her cheeks. Her exhalations were steady, her expression soft. Lengthy locks of her silken hair spilled over his chest. Rosy color tinged the cheekbone he could see. Her lush lips were slightly parted.
She was so beautiful it almost hurt to gaze upon her. So delicate he feared her image might shatter at any second. So elegant, even in slumber, he felt as if he held the world’s greatest treasure.
But.
What?
Why?
How?
What?
He scoured his mind, only bits and pieces coming back to him. By the time the wraiths finished feeding on him, he’d barely had the strength to stand. Or the wits to puzzle out a plan of action. Somehow, he must have focused enough to flash to Blythe. His sometimes partner and always enemy. A foolish move on his part—or the most brilliant.
Though she’d been presented with the perfect opportunity to attack him, achieving a measure of vengeance at last, she had opted to cuddle him instead. How was Roux supposed to process such an unexpected development?
Did this mean she considered him a consort?Him?Roux? The male she still despised. His eyes widened. Surely not. Harpies didn’t get two consorts. But also...maybe. He didn’t know how. Or why. Or even why him. Unless she were, in fact, hisgravita.
Careful, so careful, moving more slowly than before, he wrapped his arms around her and flashed them both to the bed. The soft mattress replaced the hard wood floor, contouring to their shapes. Much better. A breathy sigh left her, and she settled deeper into the crook of his embrace.
A gratification he’d never known washed over him. As if he was finally doing what he’d been born to do. Beneath the sensation, however, hunger stirred. The same hunger he’d experienced while they’d kissed. Only stronger. Hotter. More insistent. But somehow also softer. Sweeter. Calmer.
The conflicting impressions warred. Sweat beaded on his brow. If he woke her with another kiss, would she receive him? Castigate him for taking what didn’t belong to him?
He wouldn’t risk it. No way he could start this miracle day with a misstep. For their next embrace, he wanted—needed—her to be aware from the onset. Pride demanded it. Not to mention a sense of honor he’d never known he possessed. But then, from the very beginning, Blythe the Undoing had excelled at bringing hidden things to the surface, exposing long buried truths. Besides, did he even have time to do half the deeds he imagined? He checked his internal clock. Forty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds until round two of the tournament. A rough groan left him. No, not nearly enough time. Once he began, he didn’t plan to halt until she begged for mercy. A process that could take days.
Focus on anything else.He peered up at the vaulted ceiling and tried to reason out what horrors awaited Blythe during today’s battle. Too many possibilities. At least he didn’t have to worry Blythe would be drained during battle.
Angling to his side, he traced a fingertip over the ruby above her sternum. The action, though gentle, woke her at last. She rapid-blinked. Spotting him, she didn’t jump up or stiffen. No, she offered him a dreamy, dizzying smile she might grant to only those she admired.
“Good morning, Astra.”
A trick? Maybe. But wait to touch her? No, not now. Not after that smile.Invitation enough.
Perhaps he could doonedeed he imagined.
“Let’s make it an even better morning.” Desperate, Roux clasped her nape and swooped in to claim her lips with his own. She opened for him without hesitation, welcoming his tongue. He gave it. Aggressively. The kiss proved harder than he’d intended, but she met each thrust with the very moans of surrender he craved.
Fire raged through his veins.More!