You’ve got to be kidding me.

I see the challenge twinkling in his eyes.

I get up and move over to him, positioning my legs on either side of his chair. Slowly I lower myself and straddle his lap. I take the tumbler out of his hand, and staring at him the entire time, I down its contents.

I hiss out a breath at the burn of it.

“You’re wrong, you know,” I say, taking the other glass from him and handing him my now empty one. I’m going to need the alcohol. This close to the king, I end up either wanting to fight him or fuck him.

He raises an eyebrow, setting the glass and the bottle of alcohol he holds on the table behind me.

“Your depravity is not what worries me.” I’ve lived through that. That part of the king is predictable. “It’s all the other parts of you that do.”

That was, after all, what led me to sleep for a hundred years. That wicked soul of his still has a bit of goodness inside it, but when he applies it … sometimes terrible things happen.

Montes brings his knuckles up and rubs them softly against my cheekbone. “That might be one of the nicest compliments you’ve given me.”

I shake my head and take a sip of my stolen drink.

His fingers wrap around the tumbler and he pulls it from my lips. My hold on the glass is trapped beneath his as he brings it to his own lips, and together we tilt the alcohol into his mouth.

Heat burns low in my belly. I want to say it’s from the alcohol, but I can’t lie to myself. It’s anticipation I feel.

A knock on the door interrupts the moment.

“Come in!” the king calls, not looking away from me.

The door to the room opens, and the king’s soldiers come in with dinner.

I begin to get up.

The king’s free hand clamps down on my hip. “Stay here.”

“Every time you exert a little more intimacy, the interest on my end of the bargain goes up,” I say.

“I don’t care.”

And here we are, locking horns once more.

Behind me I can hear the soldiers. They make quick work of setting out our dinner. I wait until their footsteps retreat. Until the door opens and then clicks shut behind them.

Until I’m alone with my monster once more.

I yank my captive hand out of his, along with the tumbler. I down the second glass’s worth of alcohol, then set the empty cup on the table.

Readjusting my hips on the king’s lap, I place my hands on his seatback, caging him in.

A very honest smile spreads across Montes’s lips as I lean in, my hair dangling between us. “Is this what you want from me?” I ask. I’m tired of fighting every inch he takes, and I’m tired of him toying with me.

Now both of his hands grip my outer thighs, holding me in place. “No,” he says.

He closes the last of the distance between our mouths and brushes his against mine. “I want everything you have to give,” he murmurs. “And everything you don’t.”

He’s taken my memories, my mortality, my freedom, even my death. I don’t know how much more there even is to give.

Chapter 16

Serenity

“You’re different,” I say.

I’m sprawled out on my stomach in front of the fireplace in the king’s game room, a now half-empty bottle of what I learned is bourbon and two tumblers sitting in front of me.

We’ve long since finished eating dinner. I don’t mention how odd it is to no longer feel nausea or pain when I eat and drink. I’d gotten so used to both that it’s strange to not have to deal with them.

The king healed me.

Between the initial betrayal that landed me in the Sleeper and his more recent reluctance to wake me, I let myself forget that Montes spent the better part of a century curing me, far longer than most people even live.

I can’t fathom that kind of perseverance. That kind of loyalty.

I watch him as he lights the fire. And I’m not liking where my eyes are landing. It starts with his hands. He has nice hands. Not too thick, not to boney, just … deft. Capable.

My gaze moves up his forearms. Underneath his bronze skin, his muscles ripple.

It doesn’t take long for my attention to move to other parts of him. His dark hair, which is just long enough to have fun with. His corded back, hidden beneath his shirt.

To my utter mortification, he turns then, catching me eyeing him like he was my dinner.

“I know,” he says. “I’ve been telling you this.”

I almost forget what I said in the first place.

That he’s different.

That’s why my emotions can’t seem to land on anger. Every time they’re about to, I learn something that shakes up my entire worldview.

“I don’t trust your word, Montes,” I say. “I trust your actions.”

I watch as he finishes lighting the fire. Who would’ve known a man like the king could do anything so practical?

He straightens, dusting off the last of the bark from his hands and thighs. “And what do you think of my actions?”

My mouth tightens, and that’s answer enough. I haven’t seen him pull any of his usual, horrible stunts where people die and he gets everything he wants.

He heads back over to me and stretches himself at my side. “You’re at a loss for words. How unusual.”

I peer over at him. “I notice you’re still good with them,” I say, ignoring how that intense gaze of his is focused entirely on me. I lounge back on my forearms. “If I didn’t think you were the devil, I’d say you’d be able to seduce even him.”