Chapter 47

Orion leads me out on to the terrace and Laila’s bright lights – which she hung to simulate the sunshine of her home world – instantly dim. I look up at them and then turn my head to narrow my eyes at Orion, wondering if he did that.

He just smirks at me, confirmation enough, and leads me to the balustrade, his arm still tight around my waist. When we get there, he doesn’t let go, instead turning me so that we stand face to face, our bodies very nearly pressed together as he leans against the marble ledge.

My eyes go a bit wide as Orion then neatly plucks the wine glass out of my hand, lifting it to his lips and taking a luxurious, proprietary sip.

I let him have it, conjuring a new one for myself, which just makes his smirk deepen.

“Didn’t want to share?” he asks, his voice a low hum as he lets those gorgeous coffee-brown eyes drift slowly over my face.

“No,” I say, straightening my shoulders, doing my best to keep my equanimity. “Do they not have germs in this world?”

Orion laughs, his mouth spreading into that knockout smile. And god, hell, but did my knees actually just go weak? Inwardly I scowl as my wolf turns in about twenty consecutive tight circles, chasing her tail.

Anton was right. I’m just…such a sucker for a pretty face.

And Orion is…god, he’s just incredibly good looking, isn’t he?

“We don’t really have a vivid germ culture,” Orion says with a soft sigh, relaxing and taking another sip of the wine. “Considering most everyone is dead. What is this?” he asks, peering into the wine glass. “It’s nice.”

“It’s…red wine,” I say, frowning at him. “Do you seriously not have that here?”

He looks back at me and shakes his head. “Shadowroot liquor is our claim to fame, June.” He smirks, reminding me of that first night, making me blush. “Though this is quite the improvement.”

“Will it get you to spill your secrets in turn?” I ask, taking a long sip from my own glass, trying very hard not to let my anxiety show even though I feel like draining the entire glass in one go. Because – I mean – what the hell am I doing?

I never, ever let even Blythe hold me this closely until he’d confessed his love for me for weeks, until he begged me for it. And Orion what? Smooths his thumb over my dress, and pulls me outside, and steals my wine, and I’m just puddy in his hands?

Yesss, my wolf murmurs, her tongue lolling. Let him do more stuff with his hands –

I blush, inwardly and outwardly, and drop my eyes to my glass, incredibly frustrated and simultaneously quite weak. Very much like all the girls I’ve always judged and despised for being so susceptible to goodlooking boys. And yet, as it turns out, I was one of them all along.

What a disappointment I am to myself, I think with a sigh. To feminism, to all women everywhere.

Worth it, my wolf sings, pouncing delightedly in my soul when Orion tightens his arm.

“I’ll tell you whatever secrets you want to know, Juniper,” Orion murmurs, setting his glass of wine down and sliding his other hand along the length of my jaw, tilting my face up so he can look into my eyes. “Within limits of course.”

“All these limits,” I sigh, shaking my head at him, trying very hard to remain cool. “Will those end, when you pick your bride? Will she get to know everything?”

He shrugs. “Maybe she’ll have ways of making me talk.”

My stomach flutters at the way his voice dips, at the meaning behind his words.

Oh heavens. Heavens heavens. I am in trouble.

I blink rapidly, looking up into Orion’s face, completely unsettled and, for one of the first times in my life, at a loss for what to say.

He smiles at me, greedy, loving that he’s found the antidote to my fire. An antidote which is, apparently just…pure masculine control.

God damn it, but that’s inconvenient.

“Want me to let you in on a secret now?” he murmurs, dipping his head closer.

I just breathe, not moving, trying very hard not to give anything away, even though I’m pretty sure he sees my fervid yes in my unwavering gaze.

“All right,” he says, tightening that arm again so that I’m pressed tight to his chest, our bodies a flush line all the way down to our hips, except for the ridiculous wine glass pressed between us that he very cooly ignores. “You were my first-ranked Contestant tonight, Juniper. You’ve captivated me. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I find it somewhere in my breathless heart to narrow my eyes. “Not a secret,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You already told me that before we came into this party.”

“It is a secret,” he murmurs, his face moving close to mine, his lips just…three terrible inches away. “If no one else knows.”

“Then why?” I ask, leaning into him more, my body taking what it wants as my mind goes fuzzy. “Why wasn’t I first, Orion? Why did you make me wait, make me suffer like that?”

“It was horrible,” he says, his hand moving higher now to cup my cheek, the sadness on his face telling me that its either no lie or that he’s an incredible actor. “Watching you up there, thinking you might be last. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” I breathe, staring up at him unblinking, desperate to know.

“Because,” he says, shaking his head, pleading with me to understand as he strokes his thumb over the length of my cheekbone. “It’s not all up to me, June –“

“What?” I start a bit, stumbling back, the spell cracking.

“It’s complicated –“

“Who else has a say?” I ask, frowning up at him. “Do you – do you seriously not get to choose you own wife?”

“Juniper,” he sighs, tightening his arm. But suspicion wipes away some of the haze and I wiggle away from him, using my forearm against his chest to push, creating some distance between us. “It’s the divinations –“

“Oh god, Orion,” I snap, rolling my eyes and stepping back, even as he keeps a hand on my hip. “The damn divinations. Tell me the truth, right now – who else is making these decisions with you? Is it your father?”

“Yes, it’s my father,” he says, glaring angrily down at me. “And about two dozen priests of Darkness –“

“Oh gross, Orion,” I say, scrunching my face up and staring at him. “You’re letting twenty-five old men decide who you make out with? Seriously –“

“Juniper,” he growls, stepping closer, but I take two steps back, out of his reach now.

“Or wait,” I say, laughing a little and shaking my head. “It’s not even who you make out with. It’s your mate. Those – for you – are two different things. Is that what this is about?” I ask, waving my glass around at the darkened terrace. “You…you like me? But your dad and all his priest pals don’t think I’m good enough for you?”

Orion inhales sharply through his nose and slips a hand into his pocket. But he doesn’t say anything.

And my mouth falls open, aghast, a ridiculous laugh falling from my lips. “Oh my god, I’m right!” He purses his lips, pissed again, but I’m off now and there’s no stopping me. “I’m right, aren’t I? So, your dad doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, which means you’re not going to pick me as your bride, but you still want to take me out here and…what? Make out? Do you seriously think I’m that kind of girl, Orion?”

“I brought you out here because I want to spend time with you,” Orion snaps. “No matter what my father thinks.”

“So, I’m good enough to kiss, but not good enough to marry,” I say, huffing a laugh and raising my wine to my lips, downing it all in one go before I toss the glass casually over the black marble balustrade. “No sir,” I say, shaking my head and waving to Orion over my shoulder as I begin to walk away. “Not Ella and Dominic Sinclair’s daughter. My father would have your head if he heard what you’ve implied to me tonight.”

“Juniper!” Orion barks out behind me, not finished and pissed as all hell.

But I ignore him, storming for the doorway.

Or at least, I start to storm towards the doorway when a dark figure materializes there, blocking my path.

“You let this one run roughshod over you, Orion,” the God of Death says, arms crossed, smirking at me in the darkness.

I barely stumble over my feet in time to avoid banging into him. Instead I stop, throwing my arms out for balance, and just gape.

Behind me, Orion takes a deep, frustrated breath. “Hi, dad.”

“Go inside, boy,” the God of Death says, keeping his eyes on me. “I want to have a word with the Princess Sinclair.”

Orion sighs and walks past me, taking the time to give me a good glare over his shoulder as he goes into Laila’s room. I don’t bother to give him the time of day. Or night, as it were.

Instead, I straighten up and cross my own arms, mimicking Death’s stance. “You know,” I say, tilting my head. “It’s really creepy to go invisible and watch your son on his dates. What, do you give him notes later? So he can improve his romantic stylings?”

One corner of the God’s mouth turns up in a humorless smirk.