A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(53)

“So she found a way to tear them apart?”

I shake my head. “They refused to fight. She deprived them of food, then water. When that didn’t work, she got in their heads. Compulsion,” I explain. “Planting ideas. Controlling actions. Making things seem…not what they are. They resisted. It took seven days and a lot of weakening for the princesses to come to blows. They were both half-dead by then. Eleni was older, stronger, and Lukia’s magic wasn’t useful in combat. But Eleni wouldn’t kill her sister, no matter what Andromeda did.”

“What happened?” he asks when I fall silent.

“Eleni could hardly walk. The pressure in her head must have been unbearable. She was bleeding from her ears, her nose, her eyes… She still put herself between her mother and Lukia. Andromeda grabbed her by the hair, said, ‘Weakness does not go unpunished,’ dragged her over to Otis, and handed him a knife. He stabbed Eleni through the heart.”

“Gods!” Beta Sinta breathes a curse. “That’s barbaric.”

For once, we agree.

“Were you still at the castle? What happened to Lukia?”

“A few days later she was gone, never to be seen again.”

“What did Andromeda do?”

“She went crazy. Lukia was her favorite.”

“She had favorites?” He says that like I just spouted gibberish.

“Didn’t your parents?”

“No. Never.”

I frown, trying to imagine a life like that.

“Why was Lukia her favorite?”

I’ve always wondered the same thing. I give him the truth, as far as I know. “Lukia was the only one without fire, like her mother. Their magic was different, more…internal. I guess Andromeda thought that made her special.”

“Didn’t it just make her weaker?” Beta Sinta asks.

The ghost of a smile haunts my lips. “Maybe it made her stronger. She had to fight harder to survive.”

“Makes sense.” He pulls out a long knife, the blade flashing in the corner of my vision. He lifts it, startling me, and my legs punch out on instinct, kicking the knife from his hand. People talk about fight or flight? That’s nonsense. It’s fight and flight. I twist and take off.

“Umph!” The air leaves my lungs as my chest hits the ground.

One second Beta Sinta is next to me, and the next he’s on top of me, heavy and volcanically hot. He flips me over and pins my wrists to the ground on either side of my head.

I blink. What just happened? He looks like he’s wondering the same thing.

“What are you doing?” he grates out.

My eyes widen. I don’t know! “I saw a knife.”

“And you assumed I was going to attack you?” Surprise colors his tone, and maybe some anger. His expression seems to question my sanity. “I was going to cut you a slice of rabbit for dinner.”

He was going to feed me? I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Of course he wasn’t attacking me. It’s this conversation putting me on edge. I didn’t think. I just reacted. Fear and aggression are always so close to the surface. I was raised to fight, fight, fight. “I’m violent by nature.”

His grip eases on my wrists. He shakes his head, looking bewildered. “Save it for your enemies, Cat. That’s not me.”

I scoff and start thrashing.

His body presses me down. “You can’t fight me, so you might as well stop trying.”

Gah! It’s true. I get nowhere. Beta Sinta doesn’t let me up, and he’s so close that I can see the dark-silver rims around his irises, and smell the sunshine and wind still clinging to his hair after the bright, breezy afternoon. His warm breath fans my lips, and my traitorous body turns pliant, some parts of me softening while others heat up, thrumming with tension. My lips part, and his eyes drop to my mouth, lingering there before flicking back up, softer now, heavier lidded.

Heat swirls through me, and something more potent, like need. I beat it down and glare daggers. “Get off! You weigh more than a Dragon.” I thrash again, moving about half an inch.

His arms tense as he lowers his head, inhaling long and deep in the curve of my neck. When he speaks, his lips brush the sensitive skin below my ear, and a shiver races from my head to my toes. In a low rasp, he says, “I like the way you feel.”

What!

He lifts his head, and his raised eyebrows tell me I didn’t just shriek that in my head.

“And you won’t admit it,” he says quietly, “but you like the way I feel, too.”

My eyes shoot wide open as shock ripples through me. Do I like how he feels? He feels hot and heavy and hard, and there’s more hardness growing against my thigh. My cheeks burn while something dangerously close to excitement flutters in my belly. Between my legs, the sudden emptiness throbs, muscles tensing in anticipation. Stupid muscles.

“See how well we fit?” Beta Sinta’s question is like a toe-curling caress, soft yet urgent. “You have no idea how much I want to touch you.”

I gasp. I thought we had boundaries. Apparently not.

He takes advantage of my surprise to settle more firmly against me, rocking once. The movement is barely there, but it’s enough to send sensation crashing through me. He dips his head again, his cheek brushing mine. His tongue flicks the shell of my ear, and I inhale sharply, a jolt of desire thundering through me. His lips skim down my throat, his warm, suddenly ragged breath curling around my neck and captivating my senses. He nips softly at my hammering pulse. My whole body jerks under him. I stifle a moan.