Page 45 of Split or Swallow

“You should not have doubted me.”

She clung to him. It felt like her soul had been cracked open.

“I hate that you have this much power over me.”

To her surprise, he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

His grin only widened.

“Of the two of us, I am not the one with the power, Tem.”

Tem had no idea how to react to that. To believe that she had power over Caspen was to believe that she had influence over a centuries-old creature who could turn her to stone with a single glance. It wasn’t a fantasy she could afford to indulge. And yet, she knew their relationship had progressed far beyond the bounds of student and teacher. She shouldn’t even be here—the other girls had surely long since gone home, and she was still in her basilisk’s cave, naked, talking to him as if they were lovers. It was impossible. And yet, she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Lucky for you, I’m a merciful ruler,” she touched one of his shoulders and then the other, mimicking the motion for granting knighthood.

He grabbed her wrist, kissing the freckles on the palm of her hand.

“Lucky me indeed.”

They ate together that night, and every night after. Caspen returned the claw to her, and sent pulses constantly—in bed, in church, on the way to the bakery. On one particular day they came so frequently that Tem had to pretend to be sick, waving her mother away and insisting that she needed to sleep it off. She spent the day naked in bed, soaked in sweat and her own wetness, wondering how the hell Caspen had enough time on his hands to think of her this often.

Tem suspected that his behavior had something to do with the upcoming elimination.

The letter arrived while Tem’s mother was out running errands, so Tem was alone when she received the large white envelope stamped with the wax seal of the royals. Its contents were brief—a simple invitation requesting her presence at the castle the following night. Tem turned it over in her hands, marveling at the thick paper laced with gold leaf.

Then she began to worry.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The prince would base his decision on a kiss.

Tem didn’t know how or when the kiss would happen, but it was traditional for each girl to kiss the prince on the night of the first elimination. Then again, the first elimination had already occurred, so the process clearly wasn’t following the conventional norms. What if she didn’t get the chance to kiss him at all? What if Leo simply eliminated girl after girl, without ever touching them?

Her worries followed her to the cave that night, the curved stone walls enveloping her in suffocating warmth. The only light was the fireplace, which glowed behind Caspen, illuminating his outline like a ghost.

The elimination hung over them like a shadow. They both knew what would happen tomorrow, but neither of them spoke of it. Instead, Caspen brought her straight to the mat, undressing her as he kissed her, pressing his mouth against hers as if he could claim it as his own. Tem accepted his tongue willingly, showing him without a question what she wanted.

Eventually, his lips moved to her neck. Then they moved even lower. Caspen kissed slowly down her stomach, pushing her legs apart as he did so. His hands went to her thighs, opening them and pulling them around his shoulders. A sudden wave of panic hit Tem as she realized what Caspen was about to do.

“Stop,” she cried sharply.

He stopped, looking up at her in surprise.

Tem was overreacting—she could tell by the look of confusion on Caspen’s face. She shouldn’t be telling him to stop—it went against their roles. But they were past the point of student and teacher. Now they were lovers, and Tem wanted an equal say. She had never had a man’s mouth between her legs before, and she knew she wasn’t ready to experience the thing Vera had bragged so cruelly about.

Caspen’s hands tightened on her thighs.

“What is the matter, Tem?”

She shrugged, unwilling to put it into words.

Caspen sat up slowly, considering her. The firelight flickered on his face, and she saw he was genuinely concerned.

“It will not hurt,” he said. “Quite the opposite.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it’s the first time for me.”