“No—”

He cuts me off with a kiss, his hand moving from my chin to my cheek. His other one finds my hip and grips it tightly.

It hits me then. He wants me, badly; he’s practically quaking with the need. I can taste it in his kiss, I can feel it in the pressure of his grip.

The entire time since my memories returned, Montes hasn’t pushed sex on me. He takes many things, but not this. It’s the barest glimmer of a conscience.

And here I was disappointed in him for it. I need to shed this shyness.

So I give in.

I let myself slide my fingers through his mussed hair and kiss away the droplets of water that drip onto our lips. Our mouths open and I taste this taboo that’s forced his way into my world.

He’s poison and radiation and he’s seeping into my bloodstream, tainting me from the inside out. I’ll never be free of him.

And God, he tastes just like me.

Montes moves between my legs and I help him angle my pelvis up to meet his. If he hadn’t known before that I was willing, now he does.

The last of his restraint falls away.

I gasp into his mouth as he fills me. This is our world, this starved, desolate place. Both of us want things we don’t know how to attain. So we seek solace in each other.

Our eyes lock as Montes draws away and pistons back into me. His hands are on my breasts and in my hair. I get the impression that he wants to be everywhere all at once. It’s not enough to taste me and move inside me.

My hands glide down his backside, leaving watery trails in their wake, and I pull him closer. My hair floats about us, curling about Montes like it never had a problem with him in the first place.

Finally his restless hands find my face, and they cup it. We stare at each other while he moves in and out of me. My heart pounds as I fall into his eyes. We stay like that until the king’s hot water turns tepid once more.

And for once the two of us make love instead of war.

CHAPTER 14

Serenity

ALL PRODUCTIVE GOVERNMENTS have schedules and patterns. Reliable systems put in place to chart out the ruling of a country—or, in this case, the world. The king’s is no different. So despite the early morning festivities, we both get ready for work.

We dress—me in black jeans and boots, the closest thing to combat gear I now own—and the king in a pressed suit.

Since the bath, we’ve both been keenly aware of each other. I don’t think either of us is prone to softer emotions, but what happened less than an hour ago hasn’t happened before.

We’ve had sex, yes, but we’ve never fallen into each other the way we just did. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Marriage—and sex—I’d agreed to. But not love.

I hadn’t even thought I’d be vulnerable to falling for the king. I’d only ever meant to bide my time until I could thrust a dagger into his heart or a bullet into his brain.

But now I know that won’t happen. Not now that I’ve seen the sharks he works alongside. Not now that I’ve grown to care for him.

“Ready?” he asks, extending his arm towards me.

I ignore his arm and reach for the door. Where I’m from, after all, chivalry is long dead.

“Happy to see that I put you in good spirits this morning,” Montes says as he follows me out.

He doesn’t know the half of it. My heart’s still beating too fast, and every time I close my eyes I see the way he looked at me as he moved inside me. Like more than just sex passed between us. I hate that he’s convinced me that there’s another side to him. I hate that I want to drop back and take his hand, or hold his face in place while I memorize those irises that scared me for so long.

My own urges make me feel dirty. It’s one thing to be taken by a monster, and quite another to be taken with him.

“You vastly overestimate your skills, Montes,” I say. “I’m beginning to understand why you settled on world domination before marriage.”

“My queen did enjoy herself,” Montes says. He sounds so smug. “Perhaps a little too much?”

I run my tongue over my teeth. It would do me no good to respond to him. But it burns to not rise to his bait.

The palace is already bustling with people. Save for the guards, all the men are in suits, and the few women I do see wear heels and skirts. I’m the only one wearing anything sensible. It’s just another reminder that these people were once my enemy, and they were so untouchable that safety never dictated what they wore. They never had to worry about fleeing the palace at a moment’s notice.

This den of iniquity is now my home, and at the moment I’d love nothing more than to burn it to the ground, just to let these people feel a shadow of what I have my entire life.

Ahead of us, the servant carrying tea is the only one, as far as I can tell, who’s wearing shoes she can run in. Not even the others that mill the halls wear the same sensible black shoes she does.

Perhaps it’s that small detail that has me giving her a second look. A linen cloth is thrown over her forearm, and the base of the silver teapot she carries rests on it.

She’s only feet away from me, her eyes downcast. She’s not looking where she’s going, and even as I try to sidestep her, she manages to bump into me.

I feel the pressure of the knife sliding into me well before I feel the pain. That’s all it takes for my training to kick in.

Working on reflex alone, I grab the woman’s wrist and yank it behind her back. She cries out as I sweep her feet out from under her and follow her to the ground.