“MAGIC TASTES LIKE RAINBOWS,” I say, swaying on my feet. “Gods above and below,” Pretha mutters.
There’s a rug on the floor and candles burning from sconces on the walls.
It would be a great place to read a book, but I don’t want to read tonight. I want to feel.
I grip her arm. “Is this your new house? I’m so sorry you had to move because of me. I’m sorry that he’s kissing another woman because of me.”
She shakes her head and turns away. It’s too bad. She looks like herself again, and she’s so pretty, but then I see who she’s looking at, and I understand.
“Finn,” I say, stumbling toward him. “You’re beautiful too. So beautiful it distracts me when I’m around you. Did I ever tell you that? Sebastian
would be so mad if he knew that.” I giggle. “Maybe we should go tell him. It would serve him right.”
“She’s been drugged,” Pretha says.
“Clearly,” Finn says. Those stunning silver eyes crinkle in amusement. “Bring her up here.”
Finn leads the way up a large staircase, and Pretha holds me upright as we follow him to the top and into a large bedroom. I take in every detail I can—the big, worn rugs, the candlelight, the massive bed. My gaze snags on the bed and stays there until my mind starts painting pictures of Finn
stretched out on his side, propped up on one elbow. He’d smile down at me, and I’d feel those crisp white sheets against my bare skin, a contrast to the heat of his fingertips trailing over my stomach the way they did when we
were hiding in the back of that cell.
My eyes float closed again as I let the fantasy wrap around me. I’m vaguely aware of sinking to the floor.
Heat presses into my side as I’m jostled into someone’s arms. Finn’s scooped me up off the floor, and the smell of him so close flips a switch
inside of me. That dull sexual ache winds tighter and more insistent until
it’s a pressing need. I wrap my arms behind his neck and bury my face in his chest.
He stiffens and mutters a rough, “Thanks.”
Did I say something? Maybe about how good he smells or how
sometimes I think about those big hands of his, wonder how those hypnotic eyes might change when he’s aroused—no, not that. He wouldn’t thank me for that.
“What did you drink? And how much?”
The sound of his voice makes me open my eyes—when did I close them?
His face is so close when he’s holding me like this. Those lips hovering above mine. “Just one, two, three,” I say. “I’d like more, please.”
“I’m sure you would,” he grumbles, then takes his eyes off mine. That makes me sad. I don’t want him to look at anyone but me. “She’s too far gone for the elixir.”
“Am I dying?” I must be dying, because Finn has me in his arms and he’s touching me so tenderly. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other is stroking down the side of my neck.
“You’re not dying. You’re high.” But he doesn’t even look at me.
“The prince wasn’t around,” Pretha says. “And the queen hasn’t returned to the palace since Litha, though we still have no reason to believe she knows who Abriella is.”
“Then who did this?” he asks. There’s an edge of violence in that voice, and I know it should scare me—he should scare me—but instead the sound turns up the volume on the thrumming pulse between my legs.
High. Drunk. Drugged. Whatever this is, I’m grateful for it because I’m different right now. This Brie isn’t afraid. This Brie doesn’t have to deal
with a broken heart and stupid guilt. She gets to say and do whatever she wants, and she wants to feel her fingers in Finn’s hair.
“Your curls are soft.” I twirl one around a finger. Finn curses. “She’s overheating.”
I shift in his arms, sliding my hand from his hair to behind his neck and lifting my mouth to his ear. “I need to tell you a secret.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Pretha asks.
I feel his deep inhale. I’m pressed so close to him that I move with every breath he takes. “I’ll take care of her. Go find out what you can.”
My skin burns to be touched, and I nuzzle his neck.
“Brie.” His voice is low and deep. The husky timbre rakes along my
sensitive nerve endings even as some distant part of my mind registers the warning.
“I saw her with you.”
“What are you talking about?” He’s carrying me somewhere. Somewhere away from the bed, I realize with disappointment, but he’s still holding me, so I don’t protest.
“She was in the library with you. You kissed her. I saw.” “Who? Kyla?”
“Is that her name? What happened to her?”
He carefully sets me on my feet. “Spy much, Princess?”
“I was trying to get answers. Not that it worked.” I giggle and stumble on the edge of a rug. He pulls me upright, his thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts. I lean in to the touch and look into his eyes—more gray than
silver tonight. I reach up and trace the curve of his lips. “You’re beautiful. I think I want to kiss you. Just once.”
His expression changes, and for a breath, I think I see something there. Is that heat? But then it’s gone. “You’ve been drugged. This isn’t you.”
“You’re right. It’s not me. I’m Abriella, the responsible one. The tough one. The boring one.” I close my eyes and settle my hand over his, leading it across my stomach as I whisper, “The lonely one.”
“We have to cool you off.”
I love the sound of his voice. It’s like a gentle massage across my skin.
He’s saying more—boring nonsense about body temperature and water and blah blah blah—but I nuzzle into him, guiding his hand across my stomach.
“Brie! Abriella!”
My eyes snap open. We’re in a massive bathing room. How did we get here? When?
He’s turning the dials in the shower; then he nods. “Get in.”
I keep my eyes on him as I unlace my dress. I let it float down my body into a puddle of satin around my feet, leaving me almost naked. His eyes remain on my face. “You’re no fun,” I tease, walking a circle around him. “What did Kyla have that I don’t? What did Sebastian’s girl have that I don’t?”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Get in the shower.”
I step forward to obey, weaving slightly. I still have my undergarments on, the fussy, lacy ones Emma and Tess always give me, but I’ll leave them. I want him to take them off. I want him in there with me, the hot water on our skin, his hands all over me. Sebastian’s not the only one who can find
companionship elsewhere.
But when I step into the tiled showering chamber, ice-cold water hits my skin, and I jerk back.
Finn blocks my exit. His legs wide, arms crossed. I shiver. “It’s freezing.”
“It’s not. Your body temperature is too high.”
I blink at him as the water cascades over me, drenching my hair and my undergarments. “Let me out.”
“I can’t.”
“Fine, then.” I reach forward, tuck two fingers behind his belt, and tug him in with me.
His eyes close, and I see the truth in his strained expression. He wants me. Finn wants me and is fighting it.
With his shirt wet, I can make out the tattoos beneath the fabric. I trace the runes on each pectoral with my thumbs. “I love your tattoos.”
His eyes fly open and he stiffens. “Don’t.”
Does he mean don’t touch him or . . . “Don’t what?” Testing, I trace a tattoo shaped like a flame. “Don’t do this?”
He shivers, and his chest rises and falls quickly, over and over, as if he’s running. “Don’t love my tattoos,” he whispers. “Don’t romanticize
something you know nothing about.”
“There’s my grumpy shadow prince.” I let my fingers graze the hard planes of his abdomen and all the markings there. “You don’t like them?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then why do you get them?” I lift his shirt and study one that dips beneath his waistband. It looks like a five-pointed star with a swerving line through the middle. I press my thumb against it and lift my eyes to meet his. “I want to taste this one.”
His nostrils flare. With a low grunt, he takes me by the wrists and pins my hands to the shower wall above my head. “Brie. Be still.”
“Why? Finn . . .” I whisper his name like a secret. With my hands trapped, the only way I can touch him is if I arch my back to press my body
against his, so I do. “Please. I want to be wanted. With no strings, no expectations. A kiss without demands for a promise I can’t make. Just once.”
He frowns at me. He looks younger when he frowns like that. Less serious, which is bizarre. Who looks less serious when they frown?
“Sebastian wanted the girl he was kissing. He doesn’t want me, though.
Not like that.”
“Trust me. Sebastian wants you. Desperately.” There’s a sneer on his face at these words, but when I circle my hips to press my body closer to his, it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared. His throat bobs as he swallows.
I shake my head. “Everyone wants something from me, but nobody
wants me. He always leaves when I kiss him. I think it’s because I won’t promise to be his bride. But he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to keep kissing her.”
His jaw ticks. “He’s an idiot.”
That makes me smile, but I try to bite it back. “But you . . . sometimes you look at me like you want me—that is, when you’re not looking at me like you hate me. Finn . . .” I let out a breath and it sounds like a whimper. “Touch me.”
“I’m not going to take you to my bed just because your prince hurt your feelings.”
I try to free my hands, but he tightens his hold. “Can you just pretend?” I ask. “For a minute? Kiss me like you kissed her.”
“Who?” His chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, and his gaze returns to my mouth no matter how many times he tears it away.
“The human girl Kane brought for you. The tribute. I saw her in your arms and . . . I wanted it to be me.”
Finn freezes for a long beat, his only movement the bobbing of his throat as he swallows.
My skin is so hot. Too hot. And the water is too cold. And the only places on my body that feel right are the parts that are touching him. And if Sebastian knew these things I feel for Finn, if he knew that part of me wants Finn, he’d never forgive me. But what’s one more transgression against him? Would it matter in the end? He didn’t choose me tonight. Why would he ever choose me after learning the truth?
“He’d still choose you,” Finn says, frowning. How much did I say out loud? I can’t bring myself to care about any of it right now, not when my skin tingles like it was made for touching. Not when Finn’s adjusted his grip on my hands and his thumbs are lightly stroking the insides of my wrists.
“Let me touch you.” I squirm against him.
Finn uses his body to press me against the wall to stop my movement, one powerful thigh thrust between my legs. He lowers his mouth to the
crook of my neck. My skin is so hot, his breath is a cool caress. “Just . . . be still. This feeling will pass.”
I rock into him, needing release. “I ache.” I don’t care that I sound pathetic. Desperate. Nothing matters but the coiling heat low in my stomach and the need burning in my blood.
“I know.” He keeps his face buried in my neck, and I can barely hear his muffled words over the roaring in my ears.
“Is it me?” My voice cracks. It’s me. I’m not enough.
“Never.”
“Prove it.”
The sharp sting of his teeth against my neck makes me gasp, but then his tongue flicks across my skin, turning the pain to pleasure. My blood pulses there, silently begging for more attention.
I let instinct take over—instinct and this need to escape my own spiraling thoughts. My hips move, rubbing my center against his muscled thigh, begging with my body for more, but his grasp remains firm on my wrists, his mouth and tongue moving up my neck to nip my ear, hot and delicious.
I focus on that point of friction between us with every ounce of my awareness, chasing my pleasure until it pulses through me.
Finn groans against my neck. “Brie,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing my skin. “Fuck.”
I collapse against the wall, limp and shivering, and Finn carries me to bed.
