Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(72)

“What?”

“The boss isn’t thinking about killing; he’s thinking about you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Which you always planned on, right? You strategized for us to get together.”

She shrugged. “On Day Zero, he and I had a talk about how he was going to kill me in a few years. I plotted from that moment forward to find his weakness.” Utilizing her single-minded determination.

“How did you know what he was truly like? He could’ve been some homicidal maniac.”

“He is a killer. But every killer has a weakness.”

If my grandmother was to be believed, we were all killers. All treacherous and disloyal.

Lark buffed her claws. “I went from the underdog to top dog—in months.”

“Do you really want to win the game?”

“Somebody’s got to repopulate the world’s animals. I could do a lot in a few centuries, especially with my animal regeneration.”

I’d explained her untapped ability to her. Once she’d located Finn and Richter, she was going to start practicing it.

Lark’s eyes suddenly flashed red. Every animal in her room froze and went silent, like statues. “Can’t talk anymore. My falcon might have picked up a lead.”

“Oh. Sure thing.” I rose and waded back through creatures. Over my shoulder, I said, “Let me know immediately if it’s Richter.” As I ducked out of her room, I considered heading down to talk to Circe, but when I looked out a window, the river churned. She seemed in no mood to chat.

Sooner or later, Aric and I would have to approach her about the spell.

I made my way to his study. He called it our study, but I would always consider it his alone—the sanctuary where my scholar/warrior husband curated his treasures.

He stood as I entered. Such a gentleman.

When I’d initially come to this castle, he’d always kept the desk between us. Now he wasn’t happy unless we touched in some way.

I took his offered hand, and he tugged me to sit on his lap, his fingers interlocking with mine. “I’ve missed you, little wife.” His voice was husky, sending shivers through me. “I had trouble concentrating on work, kept replaying this morning.”

I blushed.

“In theory, that position promised to be rewarding,” he said with a sinful grin. “In practice . . . earth-shattering.”

My body was already singing for his touch, my glyphs shivering. He noticed and cast me a look of pure masculine pride—so sexy my breath hitched. Desire banked between us, sparking.

Possessive gaze on my face, he leaned into me, taking my lips as if he hadn’t seen me in weeks, as if he’d never get enough of my kiss.

I couldn’t get enough of his. My palms traced up his chest to rest at his neck, my fingers twining in his tousled hair.

He teased me wickedly, till I would do anything to ease this ache. I wanted him to lose control, to be as lost as I was. Finally I wriggled over his lap, pleading against his lips, “Aric . . .”

He drew back, eyes blazing. He stood, setting me on the edge of the desk. With one sweep of his arm, he sent all his papers flying, clearing the way for me to lie back. Well, clearing everything except for the poppy that still grew.

He used his speed to strip us just enough. Not at all like a gentleman.

He was fierce with me on that desk.

And then on the couch.

And then up against the bookshelves with my legs around his waist. We were both fierce, the force jarring books from their shelves.

When they went crashing to the floor, I cried, “Your books!” They meant everything to him.

He laughed, his face glorious. “Let them fall!”

“But these are your treasures.”

Voice rough with lust, he said, “I have one treasure.” He slowed, pinning my gaze with his starry one. “And she owns my soul.”

Between breaths, I said, “Does she, then?”

He nodded. “She keeps it right here”—he pressed his palm over my heart—“next to hers. . . .”

Afterward, as my pulse tried to return to normal and I basked in his tender kisses, I asked,

“You’re truly not mad?” I recognized his favorite book on the floor—The Prince. The one written in the original Italian.

With his forehead resting against mine, he said, “In the past, I never had anything more than the game and my books and relics. No longer. I have a wife I adore. I am more than a mere killer and a collector. I am a husband.” He rocked his hips, ready for more. “And if I’m not mistaken, I’m a damned good one.”

_______________

“I have something for you,” I told Aric after we’d showered and dressed. “Will you sit there and close your eyes?” I waved him toward the bed, determined to give him the ring I’d secretly pocketed again.

Brows raised, he sat. “I’m not a lover of surprises, sievā.”

“Especially not from me, huh?”

With a half grin, he closed his eyes.

He’d said he was a damn good husband. God, I agreed. So what was I waiting for?

As I reached for the ring, the wolves started howling at something. Lark’s zootopia was going to drive us insane before it was all done. I tried to ignore them, telling Aric, “I hope you like it.”