Page 220 of Split or Swallow

He stepped closer, pulling her against him.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne. For the first time in a long time, she felt peace. Tentatively, she rested her head against his chest.

“Tem,” Leo whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Tem had no idea how to answer that. She was exhausted—she’d been up all night, and her body, as well as her mind, were utterly spent.

“I don’t know, Leo,” she said quietly. “I…”

But she couldn’t go on.

Leo tightened his hold.

“Did that brute break your heart or something?” he murmured against her hair.

He sounded sad, somehow, although Tem couldn’t imagine why.

“Nearly,” she murmured back.

Leo pulled away, taking both her hands once more in his.

“Spend the day with me,” he said again. “Come to the castle. No one will bother us.”

Tem shook her head.

“I can’t.”

Leo pulled her closer.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?”

Tem knew what he was really asking. Her spot in the final three was all but guaranteed. If she spent the day with Leo, it wouldn’t be because of the competition. It would be because she wanted to. Tem felt the familiar stubbornness inside her—the refusal to give in.

Then Leo said:

“It’s your choice, Tem.”

Her choice. Something Caspen and her mother refused to give her.

Tem looked up at Leo, who was looking down at her. She studied the narrow angles of his face, the sharp gray eyes that were constantly calculating his next move, even now.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Leo’s body conformed to hers as naturally as moss on a tree. His agile fingers slipped into her hair, tangling in her curls. He was warm and strong and hard, and Tem found she only wanted more.

“Is that a yes?” he whispered when they pulled apart.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “As long as you don’t draw a bath.”

Leo’s mouth twitched, but his expression remained serious, as if he knew this was a difficult decision for her. But there was victory beneath his restraint, and his grip on her tightened as he pulled her along the path and into a carriage waiting at the edge of the graveyard.

Neither of them spoke on the ride.

Tem leaned against Leo, letting her body rest for the first time in far too long. When they arrived at the castle, the prince guided her down a hallway lined with elegant sconces. They passed an enormous painting at the base of a staircase, and Tem stopped to stare at it.

There was Leo, looking deeply serious, sitting on a velvet armchair. Maximus was behind him, his hand on Leo’s shoulder, matching gold cuffs glinting on their wrists.

“Father and son,” Leo said quietly.