My sweet Nemesis (ch 21 Of the QON rewrite)

Ch 21 2.0

I'm exhausted as we leave the hall, but I keep my head up and my shoulders thrown back. I am determined not to let anyone know how tired I am.

It is only when I am back in the Royal rooms that I allow myself to slouch a little, sagging against the doorframe to the inner chamber.

"You were very formidable tonight, my queen,"  Cardan says, crossing the floor to me.

"After that speech you made, it didn't take much." Despite my fatigue, I am hyper aware of his presence, of the heat of his skin and the way his slow, conspiratorial smile makes my stomach twist with stupid longing.

"It cannot be anything other than the truth," he says. " Or it never would have left my tongue."

I find my gaze drawn to his soft lips, the black of his eyes and the cliffs of his cheekbones. Warmth floods through me as I think of all the other things his tongue could do.

"You didn't come to bed last night, " I whisper.

It occurs to me abruptly that while I was unconscious, he would have spent his nights elsewhere. Perhaps not alone. It has been a long time since I was last at Court. I have no idea who is in his favor.

But if there is someone else, his thoughts appear far from her. "I'm here now," he says, as though he thinks it's possible he misunderstands me.

He takes a slow step toward me, hesitantly, as if he fears moving too quickly will make me walk out the door.

It's okay to want something that's going to hurt, I remind myself. I move toward him, so we are close enough to touch.

He takes my hand in his, finger lacing together, and bends toward me. My breath hitches and I know there is plenty of time to pull away from him, but I don't. I want him to kiss me. My weariness evaporates as his lips press against mine. Soft and supple. Warm and inviting. My stomach twists more and more as he kisses me over and over, one kiss sliding into the next. His lips trail off the corner of my mouth, across my jaw and down my neck. My head starts to spin. Damn him.

"You looked like a knight in a story tonight," he says softly against my neck. "Possibly a filthy story."

I kick him in the leg, and he pulls my mouth to his and kisses me again harder.

We stagger against the wall and I pull his body to mine. His tongue flicks my lip, demanding entry, I shiver and yield.

My fingers glide up under his shirt, tracing up his spine to the wings of his shoulder blades.

His tail lashes back and forth, the furred end stroking over the back of my calf.

He shudders and presses more tightly against me, deepening our kiss. His fingers push back my hair, damp with sweat. My body is tense with desire. My breathing is hard and I feel his mouth is on my neck again, his tongue on my skin. I can't think about anything but him and his hands and his mouth, how though his warm and strong body is pressed against me, he is not close enough. His hands move to my hips, lifting me.

I want him to touch me. I feel overheated and out of control.

That thought cuts through everything and I freeze.

He feels the change and releases me immediately, letting me down and then stepping back as though scalded. "We need not-" he b begins, but that's even worse. I don't want him to guess how vulnerable I feel.

"No, just give me a second," I say, then bite my lip. His eyes are very dark, pupils dilated. His lips are parted and his breathing is coming out ragged and slow, as if he too is trying to gather himself. He's so beautiful, so perfectly, horribly, inhumanly, beautiful that I can barely breathe. "I'll be right back."