Malechus’s smile deepens as he leans closer. “Want to know a little secret, Merisel?”
I shake my head. Desperately.
But his lips graze my jaw, and it’s all I can do not to melt into him.
“In two days’ time, my father will no longer matter.” The knife trails down my throat, pressing against the curve of my breast. “I will finally have the power to destroy him.”
The horn. He has to be speaking of the horn.
“You’re going to overthrow him?” Maybe that’s what this is all about—he wants the power of the horn to wield against his father.
Malechus withdraws, just enough to search my expression. “Why the fascination with my father?”
“He’s the king. He’s the one who rules. You can play these pretty games, but none of them truly matter. He’s more powerful than you will ever be.” I bite my lip, trying to force my brain to think. “Is that why he’s not here? He wasn’t invited? You didn’t want to risk a confrontation with him?”
If I just keep talking, then maybe I can ignore the influence of the drug.
Instead, Malechus slides the tip of the knife down my throat, letting it slice through the thin lace decorating my breast.
Every inch of me goes still.
And he knows it.
“My father is unimportant. Do you know what power is, Merisel?” he whispers.
“What?”
“Truth.” He angles the blade until its point draws a single bead of blood. “So many of the fae lie. They lie with a dozen little truths, all half-twisted. But they don’t know that I can see right through their lies.” The blade presses deeper and I gasp. “Tell me: Why did you—?”
“Merisel?”
Keir.
I break away from Malechus with a soft cry as Keir appears, stark and imposing in black.
“Ah,” he says, his eyes raking over us. “You found her. My thanks, Malechus.”
The Prince of Knives runs his tongue over his top teeth, but the blade in his hand has disappeared. “So I did. All yours, Keir.”
He captures my hand in his before he goes, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Enjoy the night, my prince. She’s ripe for the plucking.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me shaking from head to toe. I’ve never been so relieved to see Keir.
“Merisel?” His frown turns stern.
“Get me out of here.”
I can barely breathe by the time Keir drags me into the maze. The itch riding beneath my skin makes my vision waver. All I am is want. Need.
I need to fuck him. I need his hands on my skin. His mouth.
We pause somewhere, and he growls under his breath as I grind against him and slide my hands beneath his coat.
“Zemira.” Capturing my wrists, he lashes them within one fist as he fumbles with some sort of latch. “Damn it, stop it.”
“Why?” I kiss his throat, licking at the throbbing pulse of his vein.
“Because I know you don’t want this,” he growls, shoving open some sort of door. We stumble through, and I manage to get my arms around his neck. “Not really.”
“I do.” He does too. I can feel the thick fist of his cock driving into the silk that covers my abdomen. “Kiss me.”
“No.” He unwraps my arms from around his neck. “No,” he repeats, pushing me away.
Every vein in my temples throb. I want to scream. I want him. I don’t want him. My heart’s pounding so fucking fast, I can barely breathe.
“What happened?” he demands. “Who did this to you?”
“Rhea.”
Somehow, we’re in the hidden garden where Belladonna first tried to kill me.
I turn and wade into the pool of blood lilies, trying to choke down the scream that wants to escape me. Underwater vines lash around my skin, and it hurts, but the feeling isn’t pain. It’s denial. It’s lust, driving through my system like a carriage tumbling over the edge of a treacherous mountain path. If I don’t let myself crash, then the pain of sheer, unresolved lust will drive me to tear my own skin.
“Zemira!” Keir crashes into the water after me.
Hard arms lock around me.
No. No. I fight to free myself, but it’s like dragging my own fingernails down my skin. I want him. I want him so much I want to scream.
“Don’t touch me,” I gasp, Sifting away from his arms until I’m trapped against the wall of the garden. Even the rasp of the stone against my skin sets me on fire.
“I’m going to kill her. Slowly,” he promises, stripping his coat from his arms as he stalks out of the water, tearing at the lashing vines that wrap around his thighs. “Here.”
I don’t want his coat.
No. My eyes drop to the sleek press of his shirt against his body. I want to run my teeth over his skin.
Then I’m in his arms, punching out of the shadows and sliding my hands under his shirt. The sensation of his skin takes away some of the edge. This. This is what I want. What I need.
“Zemira, no.” He captures a fistful of my hair, forcing my hungry mouth away from his. “Let me knock you out,” he whispers, hands cupping my face. “At least until the drug is out of your system.”
“It hurts.”
“I know.” He lowers his forehead to mine. “I know.”
I don’t even care anymore whether this is real or not. “Make it stop hurting.” My hand slides down his abdomen. “I want this. I want you to fuck me—”
“No, you don’t.” He captures my hand. “Trust me.” His pupils are ringed with solid gold. I’ve never seen the dragon so close to the surface. “Let me make you sleep until this is over. I’ll watch over you, Zemira. I promise nothing will hurt you.”
I can barely breathe.
Instead I nuzzle into his throat, desperate for the touch of his skin upon mine. The ache between my thighs burns like acid. I need him. There. Inside me. I need this.
I need help.
“Please,” I gasp before my treacherous
