Page 135 of War Queen
Now, he could breathe again, think again.
Even so, a tempest still raged.
This man.Phillip. Just the thought of him stirred Soren’s arousal. The smoothness of his skin, the hardness of his muscle. His touch, his scent, his taste. Soren pulled off his wrap and wiped his face. Fire rippled through him, but he forced it down. This wasn’t about desire. It was about what pulled him from deep within—that was the danger.
But Soren knew his duty, and nothing could pull him from it.
So now he waited in Phillip’s chamber, his dagger in hand.
The door to the chamber opened, then closed.
Soren stilled, silent, hidden in the small recess of the wall. Then he moved quickly. He had his blade to Phillip’s throat before Phillip even knew he was there. The king stopped. His mouth moved to speak, but when his eyes met Soren’s, he quieted. Soren pressed the blade more firmly against his skin.
Phillip didn’t react. He said nothing. He simply dropped his head back slightly, offering more of his neck. Was that submission? Or a challenge?
It didn’t matter. Soren’s voice came low, thick with his purpose. “If you move against Salara, against Salar, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
Phillip’s face stayed fixed, but his eyes smiled. “From anyone else, that’s a threat. From you, Destroyer… Well, this feels strangely like courtship.”
“I need to make sure you understand.”
Faster than Soren thought possible, Phillip slammed against his forearm with a stinging force that made him drop the blade. Phillip snatched it and turned it back on him. He dug the tip into Soren’s throat. And smiled. That smile—beautiful and disarming. It had the power to make Soren forget how strong this king actually was. How deadly. Like he’d forgotten just now.
Phillip’s voice came in a whisper, but it held the weight of a roar. “There may come a day that we find ourselves on opposite sides of the battlefield. And I welcome you to try to kill me. If you can.”
Soren’s body flamed. This king was skilledandbold. His breeches grew tight against him. He felt the trickle of blood down his neck from where Phillip broke the skin with his own blade, and it made him even harder.
“But I told you,” Phillip said, “I’ll never ask you to betray your duty. I don’t ask for your loyalty. Your heart, maybe, in time. But never your loyalty.”
Those eyes pierced him more than any blade could. Soren couldn’t hold his gaze, yet he couldn’t look away. “What do you ask for now, then?”
“You. Your body. Your pleasure.” Phillip pressed the blade harder against him. A tremor ran up Soren’s spine, but not from fear. Phillip’s eyes danced. “And just to make sureyouunderstand,” he added, “I’m not asking.”
Soren snorted. “You should know me well enough to know I don’t respond to demands.”
“Take off your clothes.”
Soren didn’tthinkhe responded to demands, but his body said otherwise. He shifted—he was painfully hard now. His hands betrayed him and unbuckled his strappings and unlaced his breeches. He kicked them off with his boots before he realized what he was doing. The tip of the dagger cut deeper into his skin with his movements, but there was something thrilling about the pain, something exquisite. And there was something exquisite about the gleam in Phillip’s eye as he watched him.
Without his clothing, there was no hiding his arousal, no hiding his want. Naked, Soren waited for the next demand.
Phillip still held the dagger. Soren didn’t try to take it back. He knew he couldn’t. While he was larger than Phillip, and stronger, he wasn’t faster. His mind flashed back to sparring on the practice field with the king in Aleon. Phillip had matched him in skill with a sword; he should have guessed he’d be keen with a dagger as well. Soren couldn’t take it back. And he didn’t want to.
So close they stood.
A small trickle of blood ran down Soren’s chest, and Phillip leaned forward and caught it with his tongue. Soren quivered under what was surely the most erotic and arousing thing he’d ever experienced. This man was… He didn’t know what this man was. And he didn’t know how to react. So, he stood, unmoving. Slowly, Phillip followed the trickle, his tongue lapping tormenting caresses upward. Soren’s body threatened to burst from the confines of his skin.
When Phillip reached his neck, he pulled the blade away and covered the cut he’d made with his mouth. He sucked gently, bringing back memories of what his mouth had done to other parts of Soren’s body. Soren clung to control. By a thread.
Pulling back, Phillip met Soren’s eyes again, blood on his bottom lip. He flicked out his tongue across it and smiled.
Soren lost himself. He surged forward and caught Phillip’s lips with his. He tasted his blood—blood mixed with desire—and he chased it with his tongue. Phillip opened his mouth to him, and Soren drank him in. This man knew what Soren wanted, what he needed, what he didn’t even know he needed. Phillip knew where there were limits, but right now, there were no limits.
He ripped Phillip’s clothing from him as the king pushed him backward toward the bed. Phillip flung the dagger and lodged it into the headboard. He grinned. “In case I need it later.”
Soren couldn’t help a smile of his own.
Then Phillip’s hands were on him—roaming, feeling, gripping, driving him mad with want. Soren slid his hand down between Phillip’s muscled thighs to feel if he wanted this as much as Soren.
