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Midas growls and holds me off so he can look me in the eye. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“You shouldn’t have to fight your own brother. If I walk away from this, you won’t have to. You’ll lose your crown, but isn’t that better than killing your brother?” Or dying yourself.
Last night, there was a spark of anger in Midas when he found me talking to his brother, but this is entirely different. His face is red with it, his eyes burn, his muscles tense. His anger is a living, breathing thing between us. But his grip on me is even softer than it was before.
“You wouldn’t be saving a life, you’d be condemning two. I don’t care about losing my crown or keeping it. You are my crown, my wealth, my treasure. You’re everything to me now. If I have to kill my brother—or anyone else who gets in my way—in order to have you, I’d do it without blinking an eye.”
My body trembles at the intensity and honesty in those words. Logically, I don’t want anyone killing someone for me. But being wanted that much is like a drug that makes heat spike through my blood and settle between my thighs. No one has ever wanted me enough to sacrifice for me, enough to choose me above all others. It’s terrifying and addictive at the same time.
“You’re mine, Jeslyn. I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He grabs for my hips and pulls me onto his lap. The table digs into my side, forcing me closer to Midas, pressing me against him. His stony length puts pressure on my hip, and I have to bite my lips to keep from moaning as I think about swinging one leg over to straddle him so we can be even closer. But I can’t give in yet. There’s something I need to know first.
“What if I choose to walk away… because I want to?” I can’t imagine it, but seeing him in this state, how wild he is, I need to know.
The growl Midas releases vibrates through me, setting off a wave of desire that makes my nipples peak and my thighs clench.
“Don’t even say it.” He tugs on my hair, tipping my face to meet my gaze. Sparks fly across my skin.
“What would you do, Midas?”
The silence between us expands, ripping something in my heart. Midas doesn’t breathe. He’s frozen, warring with himself. I tense, knowing that we’re standing on a thin line. The answer to this question will decide a lot for me, and I can see the battle it provokes in him. The fire burns bright in his eyes.
He grits his teeth, but then releases a long, low sigh. “I’d let you go.”
His words land like a gavel. Quiet and true. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.
Chapter 16
After breakfast, Midas insists on coming with me to pick up Charlie, the only dog I have today. We walk through Central Park holding hands and talking about nothing of any consequence, which is nice after all the heavy conversations we’ve had already.
Afterwards, I have to clean one apartment, so I try to convince him to leave. I’m sure he has work to do. Whatever important things a Dragon King does.
But no matter how much I argue, he refuses. He says being with me is more important. Which makes me swoon and leads to a heavy make-out session.
When he starts pulling off my shirt, I force us apart. “I’m not having sex in my employer’s apartment. You should go. I only have an hour to get this place cleaned, and you’re a distraction.”
“I’ll help you.” Midas takes off his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves on his dress shirt.
“The King of the Dragons is going to clean toilets?”
“I’m not about to make my mate do it.” In a surprisingly cute gesture, he bops my nose with his finger.
Ugh. Why does he have to be so perfect?
“Is this just a ploy to get me to like you?”
He pulls me into his arms and brushes his nose along the shell of my ear. “You already like me.”
“I mean, are you just trying to win me over, make me choose to be with you because of all the sweetness, and then you’ll turn into a total pig once we’re married?” I don’t think Midas would do that, but I’ve heard that story before.
He holds me at arm’s length by the shoulders. His eyes flash and his expression hardens. “Is that who you think I am?”
I drop my gaze. “No… I don’t know… I mean, you’re a king. You’re probably used to everyone doing everything for you. Why would you—”
“Look at me, Jeslyn.” His expression softens. “A king always takes care of his queen.” He kisses me gently, like I’m a treasure worth protecting. “This is how I can take care of you today. And I’m going to keep doing that as long as you’ll let me. Now, where are the cleaning supplies?”
He lets go of me and crosses the room to open the coat closet door, clearly searching for what he needs. That’s when I really believe he’s serious.
Adopting a teasing tone, I say, “Do you even know how to clean?”
