Circling the bed, she examined his face: high cheekbones, strong jaw, full lips, and black lashes that a harem wife would die for. Scruff marked the line of his chiseled jaw, and she had to curb the urge to reach out and run her finger along it.
Maridrina will starve before they ever see the benefit of this treaty.
His words echoed through her mind, and of its own volition, Lara’s hand snaked up, resting the edge of her blade against the steady pulse at his throat. It would be easy. One slice, and he’d bleed out in a matter of moments. He might not even wake long enough to sound the alarm. She’d be gone by the time they even realized he was dead.
And she would have accomplished nothing besides destroying the only chance Maridrina had for a better future.
Lara lowered her knife and made her way to the desk. Her heart skipped as she took in a polished wooden box of heavy parchment embossed with Ithicana’s bridge, edges gleaming with gilt. The very same stationery Serin had shown her that Aren used for official correspondence. She immediately searched for anything written on it that was directed to Maridrina. All she found were stacks of short notes on cheap paper, and she flipped through, taking in the reports from spies from every kingdom north and south. More reports from Northwatch and Southwatch islands, revenues, requirements for arms and soldiers and supplies.
Provisions for Eranahl . . .
Frowning, she eased the sheet of paper out from under a stack when the bed creaked behind her.
Twisting, her stomach plummeted as her gaze locked with Aren’s. He was propped up on one arm, shoulder muscles straining against the sleek golden brown of his skin.
“Lara?” His voice was rough, eyes blurry from narcotics, sleep, and . . . lust. His gaze roved over her naked body, then he rubbed his eyes as though not quite certain whether she was real or an apparition.
Do something!
Her training, drilled into her by her masters, finally kicked in. Either she followed through with what her standing there naked promised, or she found a way to get him back to sleep. The former was the safer strategy, but . . . But that wasn’t a card she was yet willing to play.
“How did you get in here?” His gaze was sharpening. If she didn’t act soon, he’d remember seeing her when he woke, and that was not part of her plan.
Believe that you are something to be desired, and he will believe it, too, the voice of Mezat, the sisters’ Mistress of the Bedroom, said, invading Lara’s thoughts. Desire is your weapon to wield as wickedly as any sword.
That had seemed so simple back on the compound. Much less so, now. But she had no other choice.
Slipping the vial from her bracelet, Lara covered her finger with the drug before lifting it to her mouth to coat her lips.
“Shh, Your Grace. Now is not the time for conversation.”
“A shame. You have such a pleasant way with words.”
“I’ve other talents.”
A slow smirk rose to his face. “Prove it.”
A droplet of the narcotic beaded on Lara’s bottom lip as she strolled with false confidence toward the bed, feeling Aren drink her in. Watching his arousal take hold. Perhaps there was something to Mezat’s teachings after all.
Climbing onto the bed, she straddled him, her pulse roaring in her ears as he reached up one hand to cup her ass. His lips parted as though he’d say something, but she silenced him with a kiss.
The first kiss of her life, and she was giving it to her enemy.
The thought danced away as he groaned into her, his tongue chasing over her drug-laced lips, then delving deeper into her mouth, the sensation opening an unexpected floodgate of heat between her legs.
She silently willed the drugs to work as she kissed him again, hard and demanding, feeling his other hand graze the bottom of her breast until she caught hold of it and pinned it to the mattress. He chuckled softly, but she marked the way his eyelids fluttered, barely conscious, even as his other hand trailed down her bottom, down the back of her leg and then up the inside of her thigh. Up and down. Lara felt the drugs starting to take effect on her even as she felt something else building in her core.
He rolled, catching her other hand and pinning them both to the mattress, his teeth nipping at her earlobe and pulling a gasp from her lips. The room spun above her even as her skin burned hot, his lips kissing her throat. Between her breasts. A singular kiss, just below her navel, turning her breathing to ragged gasps.
Then Aren sighed once, slumped, and went still.
Lara stared unblinking at the ceiling, her heart in her throat. But every beat seemed to grow more sluggish, sleep tugging at her, welcoming her into its warm embrace.
Move, she ordered herself, worming her way out from under his weight.
Knowing she had only a matter of minutes before the drug knocked her out, Lara stumbled toward the window, giving the room only a passing glance to ensure it was as she had found it. Her arms shuddered as she eased outside, numb feet finding the cold ground, mud oozing between her toes as she backtracked through the courtyard. Back in the stream, the water danced over her skin, which, despite the narcotic, felt so sensitive that the touch hurt.
The water was warm. Strangely soothing as it pulled her under, welcoming her into its depths.
Soon she was choking. Gasping. Fighting to keep conscious as she reached for the edge and dragged herself out of the pool.
Her body swayed as she pulled the shift over her head. She stumbled up the path, praying the guard would only think her drunk. Her hands hit the solid wood of the door, pushing it in. Shutting it. Turning the bolt.
Get to the bed. Don’t give them a reason to suspect.
Get to the bed.
Get to the . . .
8
Aren
Aren put away the whetstone he’d been running across the blade of a knife, staring off into the depths of the jungle surrounding his home. Though a hundred sounds emanated from the trees—the trickle of water, the calls of animals, the hum of insects—the island felt quiet. Serene. Peaceful.
A warm furry body rubbed against his arm, and Aren reached up to rub Vitex’s ears, the big cat purring contentedly until something in the bushes caught his attention. There’d been a female running about, and even now, Aren spotted her yellow eyes watching them from beneath a large leaf.
“Want to go get her?” he asked his cat.
Vitex only sat on his haunches and yawned. “Good plan. Let her come to you.” Aren chuckled. “Let me know how that works out for you.”
Behind them, there was the sound of boots against marble and the door swinging open. His sister blinked as she stepped outside.
“You’re in better form than I thought you’d be,” he said dryly.
Ahnna frowned at him, using one foot to shove the cat inside so she could shut the door. “Why’s that?”
“Because the amount of wine you must have consumed to have passed out at the table probably means my cellar’s looking lean.”
“Good god, did I?”
“If the chatter I heard coming from the kitchen is to be believed.” Picking up his bow, Aren stood from where he’d been sitting on the front step, tapping the end of the weapon against his booted toe. “Eli and Lara dragged you back to your room.”
Passing a hand over her eyes, Ahnna shook her head as if to clear it. “I remember talking to her and then . . .” She shook her head again. “Sorry. And sorry I’m late. I slept like the dead.”