“Do you truly want to have wine with someone who won’t sleep with you?”
“Just because you don’t want to risk getting pregnant doesn’t mean there aren’t intimate things we could do together. Sleeping, for example, rarely gets anyone pregnant. I could wear some of those royal pajamas that caress a man’s balls to make sure everything stays properly restrained.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. He grinned, delighted to hear it. She’d been so incredibly serious since they started talking about this. It was a serious topic, of course, but he worried that her grave attitude meant she’d already given up on him. On them.
After she laughed, she tilted her head thoughtfully. Was that intrigue in her eyes? Maybe she wanted to see what intimacies he had in mind that wouldn’t result in surprise children.
He took his hand from hers and touched her cheek. Her cheek was far more appealing than his.
When she didn’t draw back, he leaned forward slowly, watching her eyes for signs that he should stop. For a moment, she seemed hesitant, but she parted her lips when his came close. He closed his eyes and kissed her. And his wounded heart took solace in the fact that she kissed him back. When her arms came around his shoulders, he believed maybe this could work, maybe they could still spend time together. Get to know each other more intimately. And he could find out if she was the one to replace the one who hadn’t waited for him. Maybe even to become more than the one had ever been. Because if he found the new one, it would be worth doing anything, and giving up anything, to be with her, wouldn’t it?
Especially when her kiss was so appealing. As was the way her hand drifted to the back of his head, and her fingers pushed through his hair. Appealing and… arousing. Founders’ fiery breath, it would be hard not to let kisses turn into more than she wanted, and he was already questioning his words about sleeping together without having sex. Memories of her naked sprang to mind and how much he would like to hold her naked body in his arms, to let his hands explore every part of her, to have her explore him back, to—
Zenia squeezed his shoulders and pulled away. He almost moaned his objection.
She stared at him, her moist lips parted, her breaths quick. He realized his were quick, too, and that his hand had found its way to her waist, scooting her closer to him, almost pulling her into his lap.
“I can’t, Jev,” she whispered, pushing him farther away. “It would be too hard not to… just not to.”
“Zenia…” He wished he could muster more of a protest, a logical argument, but he feared she was right.
She scrambled to her feet, almost knocking over the wineglass she’d set aside. “Thank you for dinner. I have to go.”
“Zenia…” he groaned again.
But she rushed around the sofa, bumping the end with her hip, and kept going without looking back. The door creaked faintly as it opened, and then she was gone.
Jev slumped back against the sofa, utterly defeated.
For several long moments, he sat there, the fire crackling cheerfully to mock him.
A throat cleared in the doorway. For an ecstatic second, he thought it was Zenia, that she’d come back to tell him she’d changed her mind, but he knew before he looked that it wasn’t she.
A young woman wearing a page’s uniform peered hesitantly in at him and lifted an envelope that she carried on a silver tray. “My pardon, Zyndar Dharrow. I heard you didn’t want to be disturbed, but, uh…”
The page looked in the direction Zenia had gone. Great. She’d probably seen Zenia fleeing from the room they’d shared and wondered what monstrous thing he’d done to her.
“Go ahead.” Jev waved to the envelope.
“This was delivered for you, Zyndar.” The page strode in and presented the tray.
He thought about asking her for more details but doubted she had any. As soon as he accepted the envelope, she hastened away, almost jogging.
What a touch he had tonight. All women were fleeing from him.
Sighing, he looked at the front of the envelope. All it contained was his name, but he recognized the flowing script. Lornysh.
Jev needed to talk with Targyon to see if there was a way to get Lornysh and Cutter access to the castle. Especially tonight, he wouldn’t have minded some company, someone to listen to him explain his woes while they imbibed the nearly untouched bottle of wine.
Targyon ought to be able to make sure an elf could come and go without guards perforating him with arrows. Maybe Jev could even suggest him as one of the Crown Agents, should Lornysh want to stay in the city for longer than a few weeks.
He wasn’t sure what he expected from the message inside, but it wasn’t what he got.
Cutter is missing. So is Master Grindmor.
Jev slumped back against the sofa again. He promptly felt like an ass because he hadn’t seen Cutter in a couple of days and hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d been too busy wrapping things up with his case and planning his date.
How long had he been gone? Was it related to the master cutter’s missing tools? It had to be if she was missing too.
Reluctantly, Jev rose to his feet and abandoned the picnic.
“No rest for the king’s agents,” he murmured and headed for the door.
THE END
The adventure continues in Book 3, Duty Bound. Order your copy now: https://amzn.to/2MTrJTv
Lindsay Buroker, Blood Ties
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