Page 8 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
I forced a steadying breath, preparing to say what I knew would end this conversation before it went any further. “Your concern is touching, Your Grace.”
His frown deepened. “Excuse me?”
“I just hadn’t expected you to be so concerned with Council affairs,” I replied, coldly polite. “I assure you, I’ll take better care of my health. And please, pass along my regards to the other Council members when you have this same talk with them.”
His eyes flared a dangerous gold, a shade that rarely showed, but practically blazed in that moment. “Thea.”
“Clay. I just assumed this conversation was because of my role on the Council. Otherwise, we have no reason to discuss my well-being alone in a locked room.” I dropped my voice with a hint of warning. “You are the Crown Prince, and I am a future Council member. We are nothing more than that to each other. We cannot be anything more than that.”
He knew as well as I did that our relationship went beyond what society would allow. We were walking a fine line, and if things went any further, the Dragon would marry me off to some noble with a title—and I’d be dead the second I’d produced an heir.
“And here I thought we were friends,” Clay said, drawing out the words, an eyebrow raised in mockery.
“Did you now?”
“No.” His voice dropped to a growl as he stepped closer, his eyes glinting. He lifted a hand, his fingers grazing from the base of my throat down to where the Mark of Hades lay painted on my skin. “I rarely think about fucking my friends as often as I imagine laying with you.”
“You should watch what you say, Your Grace,” I warned, though it came out in a breathless whisper.
He smirked, noticing the way my breath caught. “I thought you weren’t playing games, Miss Moore? Are you really going to pretend you don’t want me to lay you across this desk?”
He was taunting me, trying to draw me out, to break through the defenses I’d put up against everyone. And the worst part? It was working. I knew what he was doing, and yet the low, sensual edge in his voice, the way his gaze swept over me, possessive and unrestrained, made my resolve tremble.
We stood there, locked in place, pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It would only take a tilt of my head, and his lips would be on mine. The longer he stood there, the more I felt his desire pressing against me, the more my defenses faded.
“Well.” I cleared my throat, breaking the spell. “I suppose I should get to my suite since you’re so concerned about my rest.”
His eyes lingered on my lips, then traveled slowly down my body. He exhaled sharply, as if forcing himself to let go.Like he wanted to close the distance between us just as badly as I did.But instead, he stepped back, turning to face his desk. Without him, the space was colder, emptier, and I released an audible sigh.
“Very well,” he replied gruffly, refusing to look at me as I practically fled from the room.
Chapter Three
As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t avoid this any longer. I needed sleep. My body was like lead, every limb weighted down by exhaustion. A dull, insistent ache throbbed in my head, never fading, and my eyes burned from countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in fear of my dreams. Weeks had passed without a full night of peaceful, uninterrupted rest and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life surviving on limited hours of sleep. If Clay’s visit had proven anything, it was that I couldn’t keep going like this. It was only a matter of time before everyone else noticed how much I was crumbling apart.
I needed to rest—even if it meant seeing him. Hyrax.
With a resigned sigh, I pulled back the duvet on the plush mattress in my bedchamber. Nessira had brought in heavier bedding to ward off the encroaching chill of winter, and the weight of it was almost intoxicating as I settled beneath it. The familiar scent of lavender clung to the fabric, a quiet reminder of home, and it was enough to coax me into loosening the tension in my shoulders.
I sank into the pillows, my head falling back as if the mattress itself were cradling me. Above me, the shadows of the candlelight flickered and danced along the ceiling, a silent performance that demanded no audience. I watched them until, eventually, the flame guttered out.
Darkness enveloped the room, and the silence pressed close around me.
Finally, I closed my eyes, and it took only a moment before sleep found me.
Even though it had been weeks since I’d last stepped foot in the winding, maze-like caverns of the Underworld, I found my way effortlessly. My memory held the paths as if I had walked them every day of my life.
Honestly, I should have realized the truth about this place sooner. I had no one but myself to be angry at.
Well, myself—and Hyrax.
I was furious with Hyrax.
And now that I’d finally allowed myself to return, I would not be leaving without some answers from the God of the Dead. After all this time, and after all the lies, he at least owed me that much.
I stormed through the caverns, ignoring the ever-present chill in the air until I reached the massive steel doors that led to his throne room. With a sudden strength that surprised even me, I ripped them open and stepped inside.
Hyrax’s throne room had always been where we met during my visits, though he rarely occupied his throne of skulls. More often, I’d find him lounging at the dining table, sipping wine and listening to melancholic music while the black onyx fireplace burned warmly. Today, though, was different.
