Page 42 of Crown of the Courtesan

He helps me stumble up the stairs on the backside of the tavern and into his small room once more. I can still hear the raucous noise below the floorboards, though the room now spins. Cautiously, he pours from a cracked pitcher into a wooden cup on the table.

My body tingles as I watch the muscles move in his arm during such a simple task. He’s genuinely striking.

Not only that, but intelligent.

Kind.

Thoughtful.

Everything Balor isn’t. In fact, there’s no reason why I couldn’t desire Rett. He hands me the cup with a steady hand.

“I had a great time tonight.” Feeling the cool water go down my throat, I don’t take my eyes off him.

He locks eyes with me, and his expression turns into smoldering heat. Walking around the table, he presses his mouth to mine without hesitation. Our lips part to taste and to know each other, and those tusks I suspected under his bottom lip graze me with an aching pleasure.

The drink isn’t what I need to feel better after seeing Lir—it’s this.

My heart picks up its pace as his hands find the nape of my neck. He caresses my hair before wrapping his fingers around my face and bringing me closer.

My body trembles.

I want more.

A queen can have more, can’t she?

We stumble back until we hit the wall. The picture frame of an ugly cross-stitch pattern falls and shatters at our feet.

His torso melds into mine. Emptying my head of all thoughts feels so good. The exceptionally hard length of him presses into my stomach, reaching, pleading for me to take it in hand. I graze the front of his trousers, still confining him, and he growls.

He steps back. “Marry me, Tabitha.”

Everything comes to a screeching halt.

“Can’t we just enjoy each other?” I fumble for the buttons to free his hardness, but his hand stops me.

I turn away, humiliation burning through to my very bones.

His eyes scorch. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he pants. “I won’t take you here—not like this.”

“I’m fine—hiccup—I want this. I want you.” My hiccups are back with a vengeance.

“Then marry me.”

It’s my turn to pull out from under his arms and flee his embrace.

I am so, so, so stupid for encouraging him.

Hadn’t Klara said he would seek marriage?

“Let’s join forces. We don’t have to pretend to be in love—that will come later. We have the passion. We have the goodwill.”

Frantic whispers fill my ears.

I shush Rett, but he doesn’t stop. “Together, we can rewrite history. We can eliminate men like Metalla. We can find out what is happening to the womenfolk across our realms. Think about it.”

Footsteps thunder up the wooden staircase outside the apartment, rattling the walls on their ascent.

BAM.