Paxton awoke to soft fingers trailing across his stubbled cheeks. The room was dark, and all around him rose a symphony of snores. His eyes slowly adjusted to Rozaria leaning over him, her dark hair pulled to one side.
“Come with me.” Paxton smelled wine on her whispered words.
He let her take him by the hand and lead him out of the guest dormitory and down another torch-sconced hall with vivid rugs depicting tribal customs, nakedness, and war. It had to be the dead of night, but he could still hear revelries at a distance. As they walked, Rozaria stumbled into him a few times or leaned to the side and had to be righted by his hand. She giggled uncharacteristically, and he wondered how much wine she’d had.
He guessed with a bout of nausea that she was leading him to her personal chambers. After being with Aerity again, it made this farce with Rozaria all the more difficult. Before, when he kissed Rozaria, he believed Aerity was no longer in his life. Now he realized she would always be. The thought of being touched by Rozaria—of touching her back—it felt wrong in a way he hadn’t allowed to stop him before. And yet he continued to let her lead him into her chamber.
Rozaria’s room was spectacular. A four-poster bed of dark wood was draped in beaded silks of deep red. The rugs were plush and the pillows plump. Plants of various large species were along the walls in ornate terra-cotta pots. The windows were round and looked down at gardens three stories below.
Rozaria turned to Paxton and pressed her body against his, draping her arms over his shoulders. His heart picked up speed. He eyed a bottle of wine with two glasses on a table by the bed. The perfect distraction.
“More wine, I think.” He slipped from her grasp and poured them both a glass, filling hers higher than his own. He handed it to her and lifted it in a toast. She gave him a heavy-lidded, seductive grin and then drank. He touched her glass to encourage her to drink again.
“You have news?” he asked.
She set down her glass on the bedside table and sashayed to the window, leaning against it. Paxton tipped part of his wine into hers before she turned back around. She walked to where Paxton stood at the side of the bed. This time when she got to him she placed her hands on his chest and firmly pushed him back.
Curses. His spine went rigid and he forced himself to relax before she noticed.
Now he was on the bed and she was climbing atop him. Her mouth came down on his, soft and sour. She moaned and placed all her weight on him, seeming unable to keep herself up. Paxton flipped them so she was on her back and he was on his side looking down at her. He gave her pliant lips another kiss. Betrayal.
“What did you learn, Rozaria?” He touched his nose to her cheek. Deception. It was the only way. He shoved his feelings of infidelity aside.
“It went off without a hitch. King Charles and his wife were kidnapped.”
His eyes flew wide, and Rozaria burst out into a husky laugh.
“Right from their very own castle.” She giggled.
Paxton’s instinct was to jump from the bed and run. Do something. To find Aerity and warn her, if she didn’t already know. Where would she be now? Surely not home yet. But he forced himself to be still. To place his lips against Rozaria’s jaw, and take her waist in his hand.
“Brilliant.” The word pushed past the sickening lump in his throat. “Are they to be killed?” He kept his voice light.
“Not”—her eyes fluttered—“yet.”
He kissed her again. “When?”
“The princesses. They could not be found.” Paxton’s heart pounded furiously. He traced his lips down her jawline and neck as she went on. “The prince wishes to flush them out. Then . . .” Her eyes closed. Paxton gripped her waist.
“Aye? Then?”
“Then he will advance and take over the kingdom of Lochlanach. You’ll be able to return to your homeland with more power and respect than you dreamed possible, hunter.”
Paxton ground his teeth. Rozaria, in a sudden burst of renewed energy, climbed atop him again. Paxton quickly sat up, gently moving her from his lap to sit beside him, and grabbed both glasses. He pressed hers into her hand.
“To the prince. And to change. Drink up, gorgeous.”
“To change.” She brought the glass to her lips and drained it, then let it fall to the bed beside her. “I want to celebrate with you.” Her words smashed together and she pulled at him.
Paxton moved her so that she lay on the bed and he hovered above her, stroking her hair. She raised a knee, pushing back her skirt, and rubbed her bare leg between his thighs. Ugh.
“How long will he wait to advance?” Paxton whispered, placing more of his weight on her. She arched and her head fell heavily onto the pillow.
“When . . .” she slurred and Paxton had to ask her to repeat. “When our insider sends word about . . . princess. . . .”
“Ah.” That was not good news. He cleared his throat quietly. “Who is this mole?”
Her eyes closed and she mumbled incoherently. Paxton’s jaw clenched. This time when her eyes didn’t open again, Paxton let her sleep. He’d never been so thankful for wine. He waited until her breathing was heavy and then he slipped from the room, back to the dormitory.
Aerity could return to Lochlanach in a matter of days, and she had no idea what was in store for her. And where was Princess Vixie? He could only hope she’d been taken to safety. Paxton considered leaving the Kalorian fortress that very instant and returning to Lochlanach, but he knew it wouldn’t be so simple. He remembered what Rozaria had said: nobody in or out without permission.
He rubbed his face in frustration as he fell back onto his pallet. There would be no more sleeping that night. Not unless he knew Aerity and the kingdom were safe again.