The slow burn of the alcohol allows me to focus on only one thing at a time, and right now I’m focusing on those lips.

I blink slowly, the wine churning unpleasantly in my stomach.

“Are you going to let me kiss you?” the king asks.

“Does my answer even matter?” I flick my gaze up to his.

“No, not when you’re looking at me like that. But I still want to hear you to say it.”

“I won’t. Not for you.” Admitting I want him to kiss me feels too much like I’m betraying my nation.

He moves his left hand from where it rests to lift one of my legs. He wraps it around his waist. I swallow and fight the urge to close my eyes against the feel of his fingertips on the sensitive skin there.

He’s challenging me to stop him with his eyes. I don’t.

The king sets his hand back against the edge of the pool and removes his right hand to wrap my other leg around him.

My gaze moves between his eyes, his dark, fathomless eyes. “You can’t make someone love you,” I say.

“I don’t need you to love me.”

I’m sure that buried beneath all the king’s narcissism and conceit, there’s a man that wants companionship, affection—acceptance. That’s what all humans want. But perhaps I give the king too much credit.

He leans in slowly, watching me, daring me. At the last minute I turn my head away from him.

“You don’t get to have me,” I say. “Not after you’ve taken everything from me.” I don’t know when the evening became so serious, and now the wine has loosened my lips. I’m saying things I shouldn’t be saying. Not if I’m supposed to be seducing my way into an advantageous peace treaty.

“Is that a challenge?” King Lazuli’s gaze dips to my breasts, and his knee rubs the fabric of my bikini bottoms against me. He knows what he’s doing—I’ll give him that.

“No, I’m just stating a fact.” I have to coax my voice to sound normal.

“Just like you hating me is also you stating a fact.”

“Exactly.”

“Good,” he says. “Now I know that you have absolutely no idea what a fact is.”

My mouth drops open, and he uses that opportunity to lean all the way in and kiss me.

He was right earlier when he said he didn’t play fair. His lips press hotly against mine, and his tongue caresses the inside of my mouth. I use my own tongue to shove his out, but this is where I make a critical mistake. Kisses are just as much a battle as they are a joining of desires, and in my ignorance I’ve unknowingly deepened the kiss.

The king reciprocates with force, his tongue scorching my mouth. I’ve never been kissed this way before, like I’m some desperate desire of the king’s. He rubs himself against me, and I can feel him harden.

No. This can’t go any further.

I push him away from me, and I scramble to get out of the pool. My exit is not very graceful, but that’s the last thing on my mind.

I’m breathing heavily when I turn to face the king. He’s treading water, studying me with a predatory look in his eyes. Or maybe it’s lust I’m seeing. It doesn’t matter.

“Scared?” he asks, taunting me.

“Yes.” I sway on my feet, feeling lightheaded.

His tone changes. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head. The wine’s no longer a pleasant buzz, but something more insidious. I feel my stomach cramp and nausea rise. “I think I drank too much.”

I stumble over to one of the nearby chairs and lean my head between my legs. This position doesn’t feel so bad.

When I feel a hand on my arm, I look up and see the king crouched in front of me. I must be losing my senses; I didn’t hear him exit the pool and approach.

His gaze looks concerned. “We should probably get you to bed.”

I nod and get up, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself.

The king escorts me back to my room, which surprises me. I’d assumed he’d send Marco or one of his other men to accompany me. Or that he’d lead me to his quarters. I can’t make sense of the king when he does something even slightly honorable.

Once we stop outside my room, the king brushes a kiss across my lips. “Feel better,” he says. And then he’s gone.

Chapter 7

Serenity

Four years ago the western hemisphere went dark.

I was doing rounds when it happened. I sat in the back of a military issued vehicle, a gun slung across my body.

An older bunker member—a retired colonel—sat up front, driving the car around the perimeter. It had been a quiet night. Usually at least one incident cropped up during my shifts, but tonight I seemed to be getting a break. My gaze drifted up to the night sky. I searched for my favorite constellations, but light pollution from the nearby city of Annapolis obscured them.

My eyes had only just begun to travel back to my surroundings when the sky lit up. It flashed, blindingly bright, turning night into day. Then the light shrank away.

Another bomb.

“Shit.”

Less than a minute later I heard the blast. It sounded like the devil was shouting, like he was going to consume me and the earth. The wave of energy hit me, throwing me back into the bed of the vehicle. Beneath me the earth shivered, and the car engine faltered, the front lights flickering before it decided it wasn’t going to die after all.

And then there was silence. Ominous silence.

“What in the fucking hell … ? Serenity, you okay?” the colonel shouted back to me.

“I’m fine,” I said, pushing myself upright.

By chance my gaze fell on Annapolis. The city, which only a moment ago had been ablaze in light, was dark.

I beat the colonel to the radio. “A bomb’s been dropped. Repeat: a bomb’s been dropped.”

I was so shaken that it took me a moment to realize the message hadn’t gone through; the radio was off. I went to click it on, only to find that it had already been on. I glanced back up at where Annapolis should be. Now it was shrouded in shadow.

Later I learned that King Lazuli had detonated several nuclear bombs high above the WUN’s territories. The explosions had released EMP pulses that took out all electronics that weren’t heavily shielded from them.

Most electricity. Many cars. Virtually all mobile devices. Nearly every computer. All snuffed out. Only the bunker and a few other heavily fortified locations—most belowground—survived the EMP pulse unscathed.