Page 136 of Maksym

“You are impossible,” she said.

“So I am told.”

“Frequently?”

“By family, enemies, employees, and one demon who owed me money.”

“I’m sure he was right.”

“Likely.”

That drew a smile from her, reluctant and lovely. Then she crossed the room. Each step altered the air. She stopped in front of me and held out her hand. I looked at it. Then at her.

She took my hand because apparently I had become too stupid to accept what was offered. Her fingers closed around mine, warm from the bath, steady with intention.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Highness.”

“Grace,” I said carefully.

“No.” She tugged once, not because she could move me if I chose not to move, but because she trusted I would come if asked. “I asked you to come in. I didn’t ask you to stand guard over upholstery.”

“There are practical considerations.”

“I’m a lawyer. I can out-consider you.”

“I am centuries older.”

“And yet you were about to sleep on a couch in your own wing while half naked, so age has not saved you from questionable choices.”

I allowed her to pull me toward the bed. It was not that she overpowered me. It was that refusal became unthinkable.

She released my hand only when we reached the turned-down sheets. Then she climbed in.

I waited until she settled on her back, beneath the coverlet, head on the pillow, hands folded over her stomach. Her eyes remained on the ceiling.

Only then did I get in beside her.

The bed was large enough to hold empires between us. I left space. Enough that our bodies did not touch. Not enough that either of us could pretend we were alone.

I lay on my back, arms at my sides, staring into the dim canopy above.

The fire whispered. Grace breathed beside me.

For a long while, neither of us moved. The darkness gathered above the bed in soft folds, and beside me Grace lay so carefully still I thought perhaps she was falling asleep.

I did not touch her. Her hands lay flat on the blanket. She stared upward when she spoke.

“Outside of what Lucian did,” she said, voice level by force, “I’ve only had two boyfriends.”

I turned my head slowly toward her. She did not look at me yet.

“Both brief,” she continued. “Both fine in the way people call things fine when they don’t want to explain that fine can still be lonely.” Her fingers pressed into the blanket, smoothing wrinkles that did not exist. “They weren’t cruel. Not like that. They just weren’t very interested in anything beyond themselves.”

A cold anger entered me. I did nothing with it.

Her truth did not need my rage stepping in front of it.

“I’ve only had sex with a man on top of me,” she said. “That was it. That was the menu. I didn’t know enough to ask for anything else, and they didn’t care enough to wonder.” A pause. “No man has ever gone down on me.”