Page 81 of Split or Swallow
“How so?”
“Vera will be furious.”
Leo smiled widely. “Vera will get over it.”
“I assure you, she won’t.”
He shrugged. “I want you next to me. Is that such a crime?”
Before Tem could answer, the butler served the first course, and dinner began.
The wine was flowing; Tem lost count of how many times her glass was refilled. By the time they were on the second course—a tender roast chicken—Tem was getting drunk. She wasn’t the only one. Leo was drinking whiskey like it was water, and with every glass he downed, his movements became increasingly unpredictable, as if someone had loosened his joints. Tem couldn’t imagine why he needed the liquid courage. The prince was the only person at this table who didn’t have to be vulnerable tonight. All he had to do was watch.
The girls took turns flirting with Leo, alternating between fawning over him and giving each other scathing looks. It was pathetic to watch, and Tem found herself daydreaming. She was just about to replay her orgasm from last night in her mind when she heard it:
Help.
It was the voice again—the same one she’d heard before.
An idea occurred to her suddenly. If she could talk to Caspen, maybe she could talk to the voice. She reached out with her mind, opening another corridor and sending her thoughts along it:
Where are you?
The voice was barely audible:
I am here.
Tem felt a surge of accomplishment. Now she was getting somewhere.
Tell me more—are you in the castle?
No answer. Tem tried again:
How can I find you?
Still no answer. The roast chicken was cleared away and replaced with a white layered cake. The butler refilled her wine. Between the conversations around the table and the buzz from the alcohol, it was difficult to concentrate. Tem closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus:
I want to help you. What can I do?
This time the answer came quickly:
Do not trust the king.
Tem’s eyes flicked to Leo. He was listening to the girl on his right, who was alternating between chatting vigorously and biting her lip in a way she clearly thought was seductive.
Why shouldn’t I trust him?
But the corridor had closed; the voice was gone.
It was then that she realized Leo was touching her.
His gaze hadn’t wavered—he was still looking at the girl on his right. But his fingers had begun trailing their way along the slit in Tem’s dress, skimming up the exposed skin of her thigh.
She slapped his hand away.
It was as if she’d done nothing at all; Leo didn’t even blink. But a moment later, his hand returned to her leg, his long fingers gripping her knee with surprising authority.
He turned to her.
