Forbidden Honor (Dragon Royals #1)(13)

He was almost to his door when I slid against the doorway. He raised his eyebrows, opened the door with the key hanging from a leather thong around his throat, then pushed it open and held it, his arm braced toward the top of the door.

I ducked under his arm. It was strange to be invited into the room I cleaned. Talisyn’s room was always tidy, his fiddle hanging on the wall surrounded by mounted swords and shields, a handful of books stacked on the desk. His room smelled like his spicy aftershave, and I breathed a little too deeply.

He waited until the door was closed to ask, “Can’t get enough, little mouse?”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to have me murdered.” My voice came out light.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that was slightly distracting, given how the biceps in his arms rippled. He flashed me a bright smile. “It wouldn’t be a murder. It would be an execution. It’s not personal.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I’m not trying to be comforting. You don’t want to spy on us, little mouse.”

I frowned at him. “Call me that one more time.”

He scoffed then pushed off the wall. He walked behind me, then paused, so close that I breathed in that heady scent that was his own. “I thought you came here to beg for your life.”

I turned to face him, and our gazes locked. His eyes were an amber shade, specked with gold, with heavy dark lashes that dropped like a veil when he was studying me. My voice came out even when I said, “I didn’t come here to beg.”

“I’m the only one who knows you were in the library eavesdropping on us.” He murmured. “Why exactly were you hiding under a table?’

“If you’re the only one who can tell on me, maybe that means I should murder—sorry, execute—you.”

“Answer the question. What were you doing under the table?”

“I find it very comforting, hiding under tables, as long as I have a good book.” That was true, then I went on to add, “I’d just had the worst dance of my life with the most ridiculous man, and I desperately needed to escape into a world that made sense. The only world that makes sense is between the pages.”

He tilted his head to one side, still studying me. “Why are you like this?”

“I had a lot of head injuries as a child.” I raked my fingers through my red hair, showing him the edge of my scar.

“You’re completely reckless,” he said, his voice almost admiring. “You remind me of…me.”

“Gods, no, I don’t think so.” I stared at him, frowning, confused by the bantering tone he took—and that I used too—even when discussing the possibility of my own death. Somehow the world felt more fun when he was around, even if he was crazy. “Do you really think I’m a spy?”

“No, of course not. Do you think I would’ve crawled under the table with you if I thought you were a spy?” He popped one finger into his mouth, sucking on it absently, reminding me of the way he’d sucked my juices.

Lust stirred between my thighs again. The asshole succeeded in making me wet just as much as he made me crazy.

“Maybe you would. If it entertained you.”

He grinned and didn’t argue the accusation. “I know you’re not a spy. I know what you are.”

“And what am I?”

“Obsessed with me. That’s why you keep turning up.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“I’m dreaming? I’m the ridiculous dreamer—a dragon prince thinking a horny scullery-maid wants me to finger-bang her so she has a fun story to whisper to the other servants? Does that sound farfetched to you?”

I had a cocky answer, but he closed the distance between us. He slid one hand up my throat, his touch pressing against my throat in a way that I liked more than I should. I should be scared he’d choke me.

But I wanted him to. Just a little.

His hand reached my chin, tilted it upward. His gaze fell to my lips, then flickered back up to my eyes. “Answer me.”

I didn’t remember the question anymore. My heart was beating fast, and not because I was scared. “I’m not a spy.”

“We covered that already. But my friends don’t know that, so you might want to stop skulking around us.”

“I’m not skulking.”

“Mm.” He pulled away suddenly, moving across the room to the windows, tucking his hands behind his back. His shoulders were broad in his training tunic, and his tight trousers hugged the muscular curves of his ass. I jerked my gaze away, staring out the window over his shoulder.

“I’m not going to tattle, Honor.”

“Thank you.”

He grinned, as if my gratitude was amusing… Or perhaps misplaced.

“You should go,” he chided me.

“Great talk.” I could still feel the phantom press of his warm fingers against my throat.

I made it out into the hallway, closed the door behind me, let out a long exhale as if I’d been holding my breath the whole time I was around him. I rubbed my throat absently.

And then I realized Arren was watching me—again.

Always.

He was leaning against his own door, his big frame filling the space, his eyes as cold as ever.