Woven in Moonlight (Woven in Moonlight #1)(70)

“What did you picture?”

I make a face. “The female version of Atoc.”

“She’d scratch your eyes out for that.”

Yes, I’m sure she would. And I like that about her.

We sit in unguarded silence for a moment, and it feels companionable. Princesa Tamaya’s words infiltrate my mind: Should I tell him the Estrella’s location? He’s here because I’ve had access and he’s hoping there’s been a new development. He’s right: There is. But admitting it is a heavy decision. I need more information.

“Tell me something, Lobo,” I say. “What would you do with the Estrella if you had it?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I’d destroy it.”

Somehow I knew he’d say that. “Why?”

“The Estrella is a power that doesn’t belong in the hands of mortal men—Illustrian, Llacsan, people of Tierra Baja, or even the mythical Illari hiding in the Yanu Jungle. No one should have it. Now it’s your turn.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Why did you ask me that question?”

“Because the princesa wants to destroy it, and I wanted to know what you thought.”

I’ve surprised him. He stands and paces the room—something I’ve seen the princesa do. “She’s shared one of our secrets with you. ?Por qué?”

“I think she wants to convince me she’d make the better queen.”

“What do you think?”

I shrug. “No lo sé.”

“How were you planning on removing Atoc from the throne?”

I shrug again. Just because I know of their plans doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything. I may be confused, I may like Tamaya, but I’m not ready to betray Catalina.

“You were planning on using the Estrella,” he says. “You’ve been searching for it this entire time. You’d do the same thing Atoc did all those years ago.” He slices the air with his hand, his voice this side of angry. “We have a better plan, Condesa. After destroying the Estrella, we’ll rip the throne out of Atoc’s hands in a bloodless revolt and crown Princesa Tamaya queen in his place.”

Bloodless revolt. Is such a thing possible? Guilt riddles me as I think about it—of what it would mean to turn my back on my upbringing, my duty. But I can’t deny how tired I am of war, war, war.

“How are you going to lead a bloodless revolt with Princesa Tamaya locked up?”

His mask ripples as he smiles. “King Atoc has more enemies than friends, Condesa.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” I push away the sheet and climb out of bed again. “Here’s one of mine: I know where the Estrella is. If you can convince me your plan is better, I’ll consider telling you.”

El Lobo sweeps me forcibly against him. Disbelief shoots through me as I let out a low yelp. He doubles my wrist behind my back with a sharp twist, and I wince from the pressure. “I can force you to tell me.”

I slam my heel down on his foot and attempt to knee his groin, but he wrenches my wrist again and I gasp. The jaguar pokes its head out from underneath my bed and bares its teeth, silent and deadly. I shake my head, urging it to remain hidden. I don’t want the vigilante to know all my secrets. I don’t want him anywhere near my animals.

His whisper caresses my cheek. “You don’t think I will?”

I tilt my head and glare up at him. My breath catches at the back of my throat. The narrow slits in his mask provide enough of a gap to make out his dark eyes. His stare betrays nothing—no flickers of guilt, or indecision. He’s sure of what lines he’ll cross. Harming me isn’t one of them. “No.”

The grip on my wrist eases somewhat, and I exhale. The man in black holds on to me, but it no longer hurts. Awareness creeps in. The hard feel of his arms around me. The incessant croaking of frogs in the garden. Luna’s moonbeams crisscrossing the room. A breeze rustles the curtains. His black cotton shirt tickles my chin.

We’re standing very close. The air between is charged with tension. El Lobo notices it at the same moment I do. He slowly drags his hand down the length of my arm, and then up again. A shiver dances along the length of my spine and a warm glow softens his gaze.

For the hundredth time, I wonder who he is. I’ve met the vigilante, I’m sure of it. Rumi or Juan Carlos. I know it in my bones. And I wonder if it’s who I want him to be.

The thought comes unbidden and I’m not prepared to name what I feel. It’s too new, too confusing. Too forbidden.

“Tell me where it is,” he says hoarsely.

My voice comes out even. “No.”

His attention shifts to my mouth. “You’re a menace,” he says softly.

His head tilts toward mine and the sudden flare of heat that rises between us startles me. I’m frozen, unsure. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

He pauses. His breath tickles my nose. “Damned if I know,” he mutters. “All sense disappears when you’re near.”

I place a hand on his chest to stop his advance. Confusion clouds my thinking, which is exactly why I can’t let him kiss me. If I don’t know how I feel about the vigilante, kissing him would only conjure feelings that aren’t supposed to exist. I don’t know who he is and until I do, nothing can happen. I shake my head slightly. What am I thinking? Even if I do find out, it won’t change anything. I have to betray him.