Page 73 of Thief of Hearts

“You could have talked to me,” I said. “You could have told me what you were feeling and what you needed to do and I would have understood.”

He let out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have handled it better.”

That was not at all the response that I thought I would get from him.

“How do I apologize, then?” he asked. “How will I endeavor to win your favor again, fair maiden?”

Really, really drunk.

This whole situation seemed silly, considering that we only had about a day and a half left.

“I wish to court you, my illora. How will I do so? Shall I grovel?” He got on his knees at my feet and my mouth went dry at the sight. I put a hand over my stomach in an attempt to calm down.

“If you are teasing me, I don’t like to be teased,” I said, mostly as a way to try and shut down my raging sexual desire.

Which he did not help by putting his hands on my hips, drawing me closer, still on his knees.

“I don’t believe that,” he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“It’s true.”

He shook his head slowly. “I can see how much you would enjoy being teased. Pleasured and brought to greater and greater heights with the ultimate satisfaction being held from you until . . .”

“Until?” I repeated, willing my heart to slow down.

He smiled as if he didn’t intend to satisfy my curiosity.

I had to stop this.

“If you, um, wish to court me, then you will have to prove that you are a true suitor.” I might as well lean into whatever story he had written for himself.

“Give me my quest to win your favor.” He seemed excited and I didn’t know if it was because he was drunk or if he really did want to win me over.

“In Thrace, when men want to court women, they hunt a boar and present it to her family.”

His smile died. “Do you want me to get gored? Is this where you tell me a boar stabbing me will give me character?”

I had to assume that there wasn’t a boar for miles and that he would forget all about this in the morning. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

He stood quickly, still holding on to me. “On the morrow, I will hunt you a boar.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and my eyelids fluttered shut.

I put my hands against his chest and he rested his forehead against mine. We stood there, breathing each other in, his steady heartbeat thumping under my palms. I felt such a connection to him. There was so much desire and heat between us that I worried it might burn me alive. It would be so easy to melt into him, to fuse my lips to his, to make this night last.

After they crowned me the winner of the tournament tomorrow, someone should also give me a medal for stopping whatever it was Zain had planned for tonight. Because I knew what ecstasy waited for me. I knew how he could make me feel—and that he would make it better than it had ever been—and I had still made the hard choice.

“What should we do now?” he asked in a low voice that rumbled from his chest.

“We should go to bed.”

“Yes,” he agreed enthusiastically, reaching for his belt.

I put my hand on top of his. “No, you to your bed and me to mine.”

“Are you certain?”

No. “Yes.”

“If that is what you want.”