Princess: I honestly thought it was a good idea. I overheard some of the men talking.
“And… ?” I’m not even phased by the strange conversations we have anymore. Seconds later, her response appears.
Princess: The men were talking about us.
Thatcatches my attention. Turning around, she's still so close. The image capturing her lips with mine passes through my mind again. What’s one more mistake? I’m already going to the deepest, darkest circle of hell, and my self-control is waning. I take a step forward, closing the distance until our lips are hovering above each other. My voice is quiet, “What are you talking about, Helena?”
Princess: They think we’re sleeping together.
The image is sweet. Humans and sirens were compatible, and we would both walk away from that night happy and satisfied. I would make her pant, and she would scratch my back.
My mind races. I told everyone she was off-limits. I've never messed around with a female in front of them; we've always been focused on the work. Killing people who need to be killed, taking what other people need.
I have rules. They know that—and they shouldn't be saying shit about me.
I don’t realize I’ve said the words aloud until my phone vibrates. I step back, and glance down at it. It's shocking how good she is at texting without looking.
Princess: Well, I don’t think they trust me.
Rubbing my hand over my face, I exhale. It has been imperative for my crew’s own safety that they don’t know why she’s here. I can’t change that. Regret that I have put so many people in this position pulses through my veins.
There is something else below the bitterness that I can’t quite put my finger on. But it makes all my muscles tighten as I think of anyone degrading here. I can’t help it—I am protective of her.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I raise my gaze to meet hers. It’s as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Raising a hand, I watch as my fingers brush Helena’s cheek. Her skin is as soft as my forbidden dreams had promised it would be. She leans into my fingers, pressing herself into my hand as a small, soundless sigh leaves her mouth.
“Is it so bad, the idea that you might be with me?” I ask. My voice is gruff, and I draw near to the female I had once resolved to kill.
Helena’s breath catches as her hands fist together in my shirt. She watches me for a long moment, her pink eyes wide while a decision flits through them.
I wonder when I’ve become so in tune with Helena that I’m able to understand her facial expressions just as she closes the distance between us. My heart is pounding in my chest, my lungs tightening as we draw nearer to each other.
Determination darkens Helena’s eyes, and I smile. They’re a swirling fuchsia when she pushes herself onto her toes.
Before I can do more than inhale, her lips press into mine. She is forceful and warm and utterly feminine. She tastes exactly how I thought she would. Like salt and chocolate. My new favorite flavor.
Moaning, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her against me. She softens even further in my arms, melting into me. We are a tangle of tongues and teeth, my hands sliding down her back and around her ass. She bucks when I give a little squeeze. Then she bites my lip just hard enough to hurt.
I’d been wrong—even in my dreams, Helena didn’t taste this good.
Soon, too soon, she draws away from me. Emptiness rushes in to take her place. She watches me, her eyes crinkling with silent laughter moments before vibrations rush through my leg. They jolt me back to reality.
Princess: Always promises with you.
A chuckle rises up within me, turning into a belly laugh before I draw Helena against myself once more.
Her lips are addicting. She is better than coffee, podcasts, and anything else I’ve ever enjoyed. For her, I will throw out all the rules. I will destroy anything that stands between us. Right here and now, I vow to myself that I will enjoy every moment of my life right until her father kills me.
18
I Don’t Know How To Do That
HELENA
Praise Fortuna. That is the first thought in my mind when the morning rays filter in through Erik’s window, bathing us in sun-soaked joy. I stretch, and feel the weight of Erik’s leg wrapped over my hip. He holds me tight, as though he is afraid I will leave him.
When I think of the night before, my blood rushes so loudly in my ears I can barely hear his breathing behind me. He had kissed me so deeply, so passionately and I had kissed him back. Ibithim. It was as good as being laid naked before him.
Except, the moment his hand found its way beneath my shirt, I had frozen. All the ease and passion I had been feeling earlier had dissipated, leaving me a statue. My mind had known that Erik wasn’t Conrad, that I wasn’t in danger—at least, not in the same way. But my body cared little for my brain’s rationality. I had turned from flame to Ice, and I had shaken while I cried in his arms.