Page 69 of Misadventures with a Duke

Yes, I really just did that. Literally asked the man if he wants to fight instead of fuck. And yes, it felt totally awesome. All the flippancy of it. All the French of it. Like it’s come out of me before. Like Bastien has been here, in this room with me, responding exactly like he does now. With that sultry smile and even that pronounced laugh…

“Must I select this very moment?”

And holy crap…with those very words.

“If your testicles want to make it out of this room in the same sac, I’d highly advise it.”

No more French from out of nowhere, though once more the words are all kinds of wrong and right at the same time. It’s as if I’m in a Broadway play that’s already a hit. I already know how well the lines are going to land, and they’re special because of it, but they’re still lines. Words that weren’t created by me. That surely aren’t me…

Right?

Why doesn’t my psyche automatically answer that? Worse, why is Bastien already making me doubt the instinct, his stare turning into something I can’t decipher?

“Little lily.”

More bewilderment, trying to absorb how he utters the endearment. Like it’s a poem in and of itself. No. Like it’s prayer from the depths of his soul…

Before he pushes back in and softly kisses me.

“Oh, Magique.”

Once more, everything feels so right. A memory that’s been perfectly imprinted on my senses.

But as he kisses me again, I fight to recall what a memory even is. As he fits his body tighter against mine, I give up the battle. And as he angles my hips up, wrapping my legs around him, I simply succumb to it all.

To desire. To connection.

To him.

“Bastien. My duke. My love. Je te veux en moi.”

There’s more to say, so much more that feels so right now, but he robs the words from my throat while stealing the breath from my lips. How do his kisses keep getting better? Brighter. Bolder. Nastier. Wetter. Everything I want. Everything I’ve waited so long to have…

Over two hundred years…

I should be the one jolting back now. Hard and fast. But that would mean leaving him, and no way am I doing that. Not again. Not ever again.

Until death…and beyond…

More of the words that I remember but don’t. That are new to me…but not.

Because…this is me. Whispering it to him, right now—if even just from my soul.

But I need to do better. To let her speak it to him. To let him know…that she’s here. That she knows. And sees. And still needs. And still loves…

At last, at last, he breaks his lips free. He’s dragging them through the salty drops that have crept down my cheek. The bittersweetness that’s leaking from my senses. From her, now so awake and happy and sad and adoring him. Crying to him.

“Bastien. Bastien.”

“I know. I know, my sweet love.”

But he doesn’t know. Not really. How can he? All the words I hear. All the things I see. All the changes I feel. What’s going on? Who am I now?

“Raegan!”

It takes a moment to fully identify the sound. It’s not from my head. It’s from Drue, who repeats the shout from somewhere far away. No. Not so far at all. From just down the hallway…

The hallway of this place, just beyond the closed door on the other side of the banquet tables…