A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

My heart stammered.

He must have his own bedchamber…right? I looked around, my heart thumping. This was his bedchamber.

At the sound of the grinding of the lock, I turned.

The door swung open, letting in a gust of cold, damp air that ruffled the flames of the fireplace. And he…

Casteel prowled in as if he had every right to do so. He halted the moment he saw me and what I held, sighing heavily. Closing the door behind him, he was wise enough to not take his gaze off me.

“Poppy,” he started. “As you know, it’s been a long day and night. And while I’m relieved to see that you didn’t manage to evade Delano, and despite that I think you look rather adorable in that gown, holding that tiny, little knife—”

I threw the blade, aiming for his head just like he’d told me to do.

Stepping aside, Casteel snatched the weapon out of the air. I knew how fast he was, but it was still shocking to see how quick he could be. It stole my breath even as an infuriating voice whispered in the back of my mind that I had known he’d easily avoid the knife.

A curse hissed through his teeth as his fingers closed around the blade. Blood trickled between his fingers, and I didn’t feel even a kernel of guilt as he stared at his hand. Well, perhaps there was a tiny bit of remorse—no larger than the size of a gnat, though. He hadn’t done anything at the exact moment in time to truly earn a knife being thrown at his face, but I was sure he would be more than deserving in a few minutes.

Slowly, he opened his fingers, dropping the knife to the floor. The blood-soaked blade clanged off the wood. “That is the second time you’ve drawn blood tonight.” He looked over at me. A tense moment passed, and he then raised one dark brow. “You’re so incredibly violent.”

“Only around you,” I shot back.

His lips curled into a half-grin, revealing the dimple in his right cheek. “Now, you know that’s not true at all.” Walking toward the basin just inside the bathing chamber, he washed his hand. “But you know what is true?”

My jaw ached from how tightly I was clenching it as I told myself not to ask. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d go away. Highly unlikely, but one could always hope.

Casteel looked over his shoulder at me, waiting.

Frustration burned through me. “What?” I demanded. “What’s true?”

He smiled then, a real one. Both dimples were on full display, and they weren’t the only thing. No longer needing to hide what he was behind a tight-lipped smile, there was a hint of fangs. My breath hitched in my throat. I didn’t know if it was the fangs or the dimples. Or the genuine warmth in his smile—and I’d seen all his smiles to know which ones were real: The half-curl of his lips that said he was amused. The predatory one that reminded me of a large cat whose prey had made a foolish mistake. The cold curve to his mouth that never reached his eyes. The twist of a grin full of barely banked violence that was a promise of bloodshed. Those smiles may not have been directed at me, not even tonight when we squared off in the woods. But I’d seen them all.

But this was the kind of expression that softened the striking lines of his face and turned his eyes from cool amber to warm honey. And to me, it was the most dangerous of all his smiles. He wasn’t mad I’d thrown a knife at him and made him bleed, but warning bells went off nonetheless. These kinds of smiles begged for me to forget reality and all the lies and blood that had been shed.

They made me think of him as Hawke.

Instinct triggered self-preservation even as his smile tugged at my foolish heart, and the sensation slid lower, spiraling tight.

Casteel turned to me, his hand open. There was no blood. No wound except for a faint pink line across the center of his palm. “It still turns me on, Princess.”

I exhaled a shrill breath. “I feel like I’ve said this a hundred times, but it needs to be said again. There’s something wrong with you.”

He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Some believe there’s something wrong with all of us, and I tend to believe that.”

“I didn’t realize you were so philosophical.” I glanced at the knife on the floor while he emptied the basin into a bucket. There was no way he’d forgotten that I had it, or that it lay there now. Was he waiting to see what I would do?

“There’s a lot you don’t realize about me,” he replied, returning to the bedchamber to retrieve the pitcher of water warmed by the fireplace. “I cannot wait to return home, to the land where all you need to do for hot water is turn a faucet handle.”

“I—what?” I turned to him. “What do you mean?”

The half-grin was back. “In Atlantia, all homes have running hot water that goes straight to their tubs and sinks.”

“You lie.”

He sent me a look as he placed the pitcher on the stand beside the basin. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Because you’re a liar?” I reasoned.

Loosening the collar of his tunic, he tsked softly. “Poppy, you wound me. In my heart,” he said, placing his hand over his chest. “Again.”

“Don’t whine. You’ll heal. Again,” I snapped. “Unfortunately.”

He chuckled. “I’m not the only one who is a liar, it appears.” Reaching down, he gripped the hem of his tunic. “You’d be very sad if I didn’t heal.”

“I wouldn’t care—” My eyes widened as he pulled the tunic over his head. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He gestured at the tub. “I just had my hands all over what are basically rotten corpses. I’m washing up.”

For a moment, I couldn’t find any words as he turned, pouring the warm water into the tub. Partly due to disbelief, though also because he was…damn, his body was a work of art, even with numerous nicks and thin slices I could barely see in the soft lamplight. “Why are you doing that in here?”

“Because this was my room. And for what is left of tonight, which isn’t very much, it’s our room.” He bent over the tub, picking up the pitchers of water I hadn’t used. The muscles along his shoulders and back moved under the taut skin in interesting ways.

My heart clamored. “I used the water in the tub—”

“The water is clean enough,” he interrupted. “And I’ve shared far dirtier water with far less intriguing people.”

“Couldn’t you go to another room and have a bath all to yourself? With fresh water?” I suggested. “I’m sure many here would be eager to serve their Prince.”

“There are many here who would be glad to serve me.” He looked at me, brows raised. “But leave you alone? When you could take all kinds of reckless, albeit exciting action? I don’t think so. I can’t have someone standing outside your room all night. They need their rest. I need to rest.”

“Why? Because we’re leaving tomorrow?”

“Not with the storm blowing in. It will make travel far too difficult,” he told me. “You know, the same storm you would’ve gotten caught in if you did manage to escape.” His hands lowered to the flap of buttons on his breeches—

I quickly looked away. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Casteel chuckled. “Not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

“That doesn’t mean I need to see it all again,” I shot back as I heard the soft rustle of fabric hitting the stone floor.

“Interesting word choices.”

Telling myself I shouldn’t and somehow being unable to resist, I peeked at the bathing chamber—

I caught sight of bronzed skin dusted with dark hair, strong thighs, and the sleek, muscled curve of his backside. His body truly was a work of art, all the nicks oddly adding to the perfection.

“You could’ve said you didn’t want to see everything,” Casteel continued, startling me enough that I looked away, cheeks flaming. Water sloshed against the sides of the tub as he climbed in. “You can look now. I’m…somewhat proper.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

“Although, not nearly proper enough for your barely ex-Maiden eyes,” he continued. This time I spun toward the bathing chamber. All I could see was the back of his head and the breadth of his shoulders, which was more than enough. “But I imagine your issue has nothing to do with what is proper or expected of you, is it? You’ve never been one to follow the rules.”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see as he reached for the soap, lathering the bar between his hands. He was right. I didn’t care about what was proper or expected, and that was long before he swept into my life like a fierce storm. But there was no way he was staying in this room with me. Tearing my gaze from him, I turned—

“Go for the knife.” Casteel’s voice stopped me.

My head snapped back in his direction as water splashed. How had he known?

“That’s what you want, right? If it makes you feel safer, I don’t have a problem with it.” He splashed his face. Water ran down his neck and over the delineated lines of his shoulders. “Take it, Poppy.”

My mouth dried. “You’re not afraid I’ll use it against you while you take your time bathing?”

“I’m counting on you to use it again. If you didn’t, I’d be shocked. That’s why I didn’t bring my swords into the room. Figured you’d probably grab one of them.”

I would if they were near. My hands opened and closed at my sides. He was offering me some level of protection, a sense of safety, and to some, that would be seen as a positive. Not to me. It was kind of offensive and pointless. He and I both knew the knife would only make him bleed temporarily.

I still hurried over to where the knife lay and picked it up, my rising irritation halting when I saw the blood on the blade. His blood. My stomach twisted as I rose.

“Do you want to know about the land of hot water that awaits with just the turn of a knob?” he asked amidst the trickling of water.     PrevNextTip: You can use left and right keyboard keys to browse between pages.

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