I raised one brow at the non sequitur. “How poetic.”
“Yeah.” He snorted at himself, then frowned, thinking. “I mean, you look … gorgeous. And dangerous. Seeing you walk down that path, so beautiful and sexual—it made me stupid.”
Unexpectedly, my heart fluttered with pleasure, despite his less-than-elegant phrasing. I’d heard plenty of flowery phrases, and that sort of court flattery rolled off me. Con’s words struck me to the core, probably because he meant what he said. But I tried not to let him see how susceptible I could be to his compliments, how his heated attention melted the ice around my heart. I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable to him or anyone right now. I had to be cold, sharp, and strategic if I was to save Calanthe. No room for weakness.
“Thank you,” I replied, sounding far too stiff. To mitigate it, I added, “I was in a mood when I dressed this morning.”
“Some presentiment of this?” he asked, holding up the missive from Anure. Not an idle question, either. Con was consumed with curiosity about my magic and nature—and I had yet to decide how much to tell him. My father would’ve said to tell Con nothing at all, that I had no reason to trust this man who cared nothing for Calanthe. A man who might use my secrets against me, if it served his revenge. Still, it hardly seemed like a workable plan to keep him in the dark with all we faced. Trust him or not?
I didn’t know, so I said as little as possible.
Besides that, I didn’t like to give voice to the forewarnings of death and destruction that plagued me nightly. The nightmares had gotten worse in the last few days, and that was saying something, as I’d already found them nearly unbearable. Then I’d begun to see omens of my own death in them, and that would be enough to unsettle anyone.
Con didn’t know about the nightmares, and I intended to keep it that way. Something about the crashing and abandoned passion of sex with Con made our mornings-after strangely intimate. I was vulnerable in those moments before I’d armored myself for the day, my soft underbelly painfully exposed.
Con didn’t seem to notice the effects of the dreams’ tumult. I must sleep peacefully enough, only shaken and drenched in a cold sweat when I woke just before dawn. To keep him from noticing then, I’d established a routine to take advantage of the Morning Glory’s imminent arrival. My ladies woke Con early and immediately spirited him out of my bed. He left thinking me still asleep, which gave me time to steady myself in the dreamthink. In that calming state of neither sleeping nor waking, I could find my center again, and rebuild the careful walls of thick ice that protected me.
If only I could banish the nightmares as easily as I ordered Con removed from my bed.
“Lia?” Con was studying me, trying to discern what I couldn’t afford for him to see. “Is it only the letter, or is something else wrong—what aren’t you telling me?”
“Isn’t the letter enough?” So perceptive, Ejarat take the man. “Nothing else is wrong,” I added. A mistake, as he looked even more unconvinced, so I shrugged, deliberately raising my breasts in order to distract him.
Sure enough, his gaze went to my bosom and rose again to my mouth. He seemed to consider a moment, then tossed the letter onto the nearby bench. Facing me, he settled his hands on my waist, his grip firm and nearly encircling me, the heat burning through my gown. He studied my lips. “I’d kiss you but that stuff on your lips looks poisonous as any snake.”
“While I’m sure you’d be charming with your masculine beauty highlighted here and there with a bit of color, I don’t think this look would work smeared on your mouth.” I’d meant to take control of this exchange, to be lightly taunting, but I’d gone breathless from the moment he touched me. The corset bones bit into my ribs as I reached for a deeper breath, my breasts feeling as if they swelled in the tight confines, my nipples peaking. “Don’t look at Me like that, Con.”
Dammit, I’d meant to chastise him, not make a breathless plea.
“Like this?” He took his time scanning me, that fulminous gaze wandering over me, his smile lazy and full of hunger. His eyes came back to mine still seeking to penetrate my masks. From the beginning he’d been able to see through me far too well. I was fighting a losing battle, trying to keep him at a comfortable emotional distance. Just as I’d lost the battle to get him off Calanthe. And now, here we were, dancing this high-stakes waltz together.
I returned the scrutiny, studying the strong-boned face, the eyes that should be brown but looked gold in most lights, the thick black brows and pitted skin. He wore his hair long and loose as usual, but it failed to soften him in the least. He looked dangerous, too, and sensual—and like he wanted to eat me alive. Ejarat help me, I was no longer just teasing him, but had grown warm with my own need. Tempting, to forget everything but wanting him. Something else I couldn’t afford to do.
He shifted one big hand to the small of my back, and raised the fingers of the other to my throat, laying them on the pulse there. My heart thudded hard, so he no doubt felt it. “So lovely and cool on the surface,” he murmured. He trailed his rough, callused fingers down my throat, then traced the upper curve of my breast beneath the lace ruff where the fabric met skin. “And volcanic beneath.” A shiver ran through me, and he watched my face intently. “Are you angry or are you more—”
“Oh, I’m angry.” No way I’d let him finish that question.
“At me—or at Anure?”
“It can be both,” I tried to snap.
Making a tsking sound, he bent closer, lips grazing my ear. “I know I piss you off, but I’m not the villain Anure is.”
“No, but you’re closer and you—” I broke off as his teeth closed on my ear in a nip that arrowed straight to my groin.
“Not as close as I could be,” he replied in a soft, meaningful growl.
“We have observers.”
“I know.” His words had a cryptic edge that gave me pause.
“What—” I gasped as his fingertip grazed my nipple beneath the bodice, then moaned when he pinched it. “Con…”
“They can’t see this.” Watching my face still, he slid his hand deeper into the cup of fabric, cupping my breast, his palm rough on my swelling nipple, a hint of a smile on his lips at my reaction. I was hard-pressed not to move in or yank away. He was testing me in some way, perhaps the extent of my anger and his. I’d only ever known sex with my ladies, which had always been a kind of tending, full of soothing caresses and gentle pleasure.
With Con, our fiery natures tended to fan the flames in the other. I wanted to rage at him in my fury, tear at him with my nails and teeth—and I wanted to cling to him, to take him inside of me and have him hold me safe from the world and Anure’s threats. A distressing discovery about myself, and yet another development I didn’t understand at all.
“Not now,” I said, asserting control with a bit of desperation. I pulled away, collecting my thoughts and purpose again. He didn’t protest, only examined his fingers, rubbing them together.
“I wondered how far down the makeup went,” he said with a smile that passed for charming with him.
I gave him an incredulous look. “How can you flirt with Me at a time like this?” Never mind that I’d started it. But I’d done that to derail his line of questioning while he … Realization dawned. “You were deliberately distracting Me.”