Page 64 of The Faceless Queen

“When,” he said, a rasp in his voice. His palms cupped my cheeks, angling my face up, then his lips pressed down, kissing my upper lip, sucking it deliciously between his. We were both kissing harder this time, hungrily. Our mouths moved furiously together until he took my bottom lip, sucking on it like I was a sip of water that he needed to survive. Like I was a feast he would devour. A small growl erupted in his throat as he tugged my lip between his teeth, heat and desire growing inside me, building and building until he released me.

I gasped, out of breath, my chest heaving, my skin flushed with heat. I hadn’t been expecting that. Hadn’t expected Brennan to take control, or to kiss me with such skill and fervor.

Or command ...

And just like that, from a sweep of his tongue and his mouth on mine, something was unleashed inside of me. The dam I’d been building to hold myself back was gone. I pressed myself against him, needing more. More friction, more of his body, more of him. My hands slid up his back, up against the hard steel of his armor, and the soft fabric of his cloak—until I found the warm skin of his neck, and the curls at the nape, and dug my fingers between them. I pulled on his hair as I tangled my fingers deeper, and deeper into the curls.

My mind cleared of the world around me. I couldn’t remember a single thing beyond his touch, his scent, his taste—not who he was, not who I was. By the Gods, I couldn’t even remember where we were, or why we were kissing. Only that I loved it, that I wanted it and needed it. Needed him.

Needed more. Through the haze of my lust-riddled thoughts was that if we stopped kissing, if he pulled away from me, the loss would be like torture.

I swept my tongue against his, our kiss deepening even more. I felt that primal thing inside of me was wide awake. Ancient and unyielding. Like there was knowledge I needed at the other end of his kiss. There was no denying that there was something sparking between us, something bigger pulling us together … And that thing was getting louder and louder until everything inside of me was screaming, roaring, demanding. I needed to push him on his back, unhook his armor, lift my skirts, and push my soaking undergarments aside. I needed to sink down and down onto his length, to feel him fill me, to push as deep inside me as he could. To hell with whoever saw us, whoever judged. Let them watch, let them see, let them hunger for more, hunger for you …

I gasped.

The Azete. The Azete was awakening. No, it was already awake. And it was feeding.

But the energy he was giving me was nothing like it had been between us before, when the mere act of talking to Brennan, of holding his hand, and staring into his eyes had fed me as much, if not more than someone I’d fucked.

Standing on the field where the joust would take place—our bodies pressed together as intimately as we could manage through our dress and armor, our mouths heated as we kissed, our hands pulling the other closer, seeking more contact. I knew—I knew—he felt it, too. Knew his body was alive, his mind wanting. Were it not for the steel plates at his waist, I knew I’d feel the evidence of his arousal for me. Knew he had to be just as hard as I was wet.

But what he was pouring into me, what was being greedily sucked down by the Azete, was barely a trickle of his energy and lifeforce.

Too little for the monster lying within. But too much for the woman he held in his arms.

Brennan’s hand cupped my neck as his other slid dangerously close to my ass. Cheers from the audience grew, the shouts becoming shockingly bawdy and bold just as Brennan’s movements became more rapid, more urgent, more desperate.

And I knew then, Brennan wasn’t in control of our kiss any longer. Neither was I.

The Azete was. It had taken hold, found its way into the seduction it had been plotting for days.

He gripped my waist, his fingers pushing into the curve of my ass, his hips lifting, seeking me out. And the trickle of his lifeforce, his energy, his being, became a stream, steady and powerful.

He will die.

With a jolt, I broke away, my chest heaving, my body screaming out in protest as sweat broke out against my skin. The Azete roared, furious and in pain. The sensation was so excruciating, so punishing, I bit down on my lip, terrified I’d scream.

Brennan looked stunned, like he’d awoken from a trance. His neck was flushed, his eyes hooded and glazed with desire, his mouth open. But there was some other emotion emanating. Something stronger. And that feeling was pouring into me with more force than anything I’d just felt in our kiss.

Not desire. Not wanting, or love. Not even the stirrings of lust that had sparked between us.

It was guilt. He felt guilty for kissing me. For kissing the woman he was betrothed to. The princess for whom his own king—his father—and all of Eskalon had commanded him to kiss, to marry, and bed.

The sensation intensified, his feelings coming toward me with such ferocity that his mind connected to mine, opening up to show me what he was seeing, what he was thinking—revealing the true source of his guilt.

Me. But not me as I stood before him. Not Olivay. But me on the first night we met. The dancer in the tavern.

Samara.

I leaned back against the wall of my bedroom, my long brown hair wild and curling in every direction. My breasts were heaving and looked so tantalizing as they practically spilled out of my red coin bra. He was imagining sliding it off of me and revealing my nipples, holding my breasts, sucking them into his mouth. It was torture. Every move I made was sensual to him. Every look into his eyes, every lick of my lips made him want me more, made a new fantasy come to life. My eyelids were heavy, my desire laid bare as I stared at Brennan. It was a flame he’d matched with his own wanting. But it wasn’t just the way I looked at him, or even the way I looked at all—tantalizing as he found my appearance.

It was me, my soul. My mind. The way I danced, the way I spoke, and how easy it felt just to talk to me. How comfortable I was for him to be around. He wanted me, all of me, but knew he couldn’t have that. And he already cared too much. So he was trying to find a way to protect me. To help me. To make my life better even if it wasn’t with him. Because it would never be with him. Because in his world there was Olivay, and duty, and the crown, and loyalty, and of course he was going to honor all of them. It was his destiny. He knew he had to soldier on, that no matter how much he wanted to lay me on the bed, and learn how it felt to kiss me, he wouldn’t. Because he was going to secure the throne for Eskalon and safeguard it against his family’s enemies. He was going to keep his people safe from …

The vision stopped suddenly, before the final thought could reach me. But I could guess what it was.

He was going to keep his people safe from Eskalon’s enemies.

Witches. Demonos. Azete.