Page 11 of The Stolen Throne
Time
The fury that descends over the king’s face now that he’s not hiding himself from me sends me scrambling backward until I tumble onto my bed on my ass.
“I’ve been gentle and patient until now,” he snarls in a voice like broken glass. “After the celebration is over and our guests have gone, you’ll find out exactly how much.”
On that very real threat, Eidolon disappears from the room, shadowing away and leaving me—chest heaving and heart pounding with terror—to agonize for another few hours over what he means by that.
Actually…forget that.
“I’ll be ready, asshole,” I spit at the closed door.
I crouch down, pulling out the knives I’ve hidden between the mattresses. I have no doubt I’ll lose the fight, but I plan to go down fighting all the same.
“Meren.” That voice—that velvet-and-iron voice that Eidolon shares with Reven—sounds directly beside my ear.
The king is back? Was he toying with me or something? The burst of anger tinged with fear is instant, like a snakebite, the poison of it spreading with every erratic pump of my heart.
I jump up and whirl around, a knife at his neck.
“That’s my girl,” someone else in the room says in a satisfied murmur, the words hardly penetrating through my shock.
Because the eyes I’m staring into aren’t Eidolon’s eyes.
“Meren, it’s me.”
As fast as I lunged, I stop, going dead still as recognition slowly dawns. I’ve dreamed this a thousand times, but after what just happened with Eidolon, I’m not sure this is real.
He lifts his chin, and the stubble on his cheek brushes against my hand holding the knife.
This is real.
On a gasp, I drop the knife. It hits the mattress with a muffled thud. I clap a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sounds that want to pour out of me.
Reven.
“Hells,” he mutters, then drags me against his body.
Relief and elation are a burst of light inside me as he captures my lips and kisses the ever-loving life out of me.
He feels the same, hard and solid, hand buried in my hair. He smells the same, fresh like the creosus willows that manage to thrive in the deserts. Like home.
He gives a low groan, like he’s been lost in the desert and has finally found a hidden spring.
Reven.
Goddess. He’s here. He’s really here in the palace. He came for me.
He’s kissing me.
His taste slides over my tongue and through my blood. Everything about me centers and settles. I tighten my arms around his neck and crawl up his chest to wrap my legs around him. To burrow into him.
Only, just as fast and way too soon, reality slices through my haze of happiness.
Eidolon.
I yank back, breaking us apart on a gasp for air, his hand still tangled in my hair. “How did you get in here?”
I didn’t see him come in. Maybe if he shadowed in, we’re okay.
