Page 96 of A Lady’s Guide to Fae Kings

He shook his head. “An absolute menace behind those polite, deferential smiles.”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and went back to reading the rest of the spell before it faded entirely. Pippa transcribed every word, the scratch of pencil on paper underscoring the beat of her heart, the awareness of her blood in her veins, the desire uncurling her core. She bent slightly so he could decipher the last part of a sentence. His groan was heartfelt and her nipples pebbled in response. He traced along her spine down to the tailbone, pausing just at the swell of her backside. She held her breath.

“It’s done,” he murmured.

There was nothing in the spells and the Fae lullabies he had just read out to her that made her think of wishes or book curses. They were missing something. She would have to study what they had.

But she didn’t want to move and shatter the moment. It might only complicate matters later, but what did that matter now, with his hungry gaze roaming over her, and the heat slicking between her thighs? The fact that nothing was promised, nothing was guaranteed. Nothing was particularly fair.

But she was here.

And he was here.

And maybe that could be enough, reputations and complications be damned. If her entire life was already completely upside down, shouldn’t she at least enjoy some of it? The rules in Elphame were different, after all. Everything was different. They had stolen bites, but she wanted the entire feast.

“You’ve a gleam in your eye, Miss Cavendish,” Lachlan murmured.

She tilted her head, willing her nervousness away. “Yes, professor.”

That flare in his eye, the long, controlled exhalation. “Pippa.”

She turned on her heel to face him, the candlelight flickering over her naked curves and the red velvet ribbon around her neck with its slender iron key. He was so beautiful, his power so exquisitely leashed, even as frost bloomed under his boots. There was a headiness to knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him. A gift in that. And still he waited, out of arm’s reach. For her.

A twinge of shyness went through her, a whisper of insecurity. Was she making a fool of herself? Those stolen moments were hardly evidence that he felt the same pull toward her that she felt toward him. And he was a king, after all. She was not even a Librarian anymore.

She’d nearly forgotten that in the moment.

She was also a woman grown. She could be brave. And if it was foolish of her, so be it. “I want to touch you, Lachlan.”

Admitting that out loud took as much courage as it took for her to take off her cuff.

“Thank God,” Lachlan replied fervently.

Most of the doubt dissipated. “I wanted to touch you before, but I thought maybe you didn’t want… It’s perfectly fine, of course—”

“Pippa, if you can think for even one moment that I do not want you, that is a great failure on my part. And I shall punch myself very hard for it. But later. Much, much later.”

“I don’t want you to think I expect anything just because it’s the Revels and I might not surv—”

He dragged her up against his chest, kissing her so deeply, so thoroughly, as to make her lose the thread of her thoughts, which she knew was the point. He was claiming her against the Fae even now, when it was just the two of them, sealing her wish with a different kind of implacable magic. “You’re going to solve the Labyrinth, Pippa,” he seethed. “And claim your wish.”

“Be realistic, Lachlan.”

He gripped her chin, their gazes locking. “You are not the only one capable of burning down the world, love.”

It was a promise and a threat. A vow she could taste on her tongue like honey.

It was perfect.

She touched his hard jaw, his beard soft under her fingertips. “No more talking.”

“As you wish.” A beat; a silent, private war waged behind his mismatched eyes. “I suppose I’ll have to find something else to do with my mouth.”

She twined her arms around his neck, the soft lawn of his shirt pressing against her nipples. “You could kiss me again.”

“I intend to.” He did kiss her again, and then lifted her into his arms. “Everywhere.”

The soft glow of the candlelight and the quiet of the house created a cocoon Pippa never wanted to leave. There was no Tithe here, no mysteries to be solved—only Lachlan and the snow-and-amber smell of him, the curve of his mouth, the strength of his lean body. She would inscribe it into her memories so that no matter what happened next, she would have this. Them. Together.