“You don’t know how to smile, do you?” I teased.
He lifted a brow without saying a word.
“Come on, that was funny, Mr. Unhappy.”
I stepped toward him, one reckless inch, then another like some magnetic force beneath my skin pulling me straight to him. I stopped right in front of him and tilted my chin up, meeting those silver eyes head-on.
Up close, he was… overwhelming.
Tall. Broad. All hard muscles and coiled power. Dangerous and beautiful. A creature carved out of moonlight and shadow.
I knew I shouldn’t admire a Moonveil. I knew I shouldn’t even be within arm’s reach of one. But from here, he wasn’t my enemy, he was the most striking, arresting thing I’d ever seen. Art carved into a body.
And even knowing the danger, something inside me wouldn’t let me step back. It ached for him.
“I didn’t think you were the type of guy to come to a tavern,” I teased, my voice softer than I meant it to be.
“I could say the same about a princess in a low-life tavern,” he replied, that infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth.
“I’ve told you already, I’m not like other royals. I am different. You just… don’t listen.” I stepped closer until our knees brushed. Our bodies were inches apart. The gap between us thinned into something electric, too close, far too close.
His breath brushed mine, warm and sharp, and every instinct trained into me should have screamed to retreat.
But instead, it dragged me closer.
I held my ground, daring him to be the one who broke first.
“Why did you come this time?” I asked, my voice a low, challenged flirtation I barely recognized.
What was I doing?
We hated each other.
He wanted me dead, he’d made that painfully clear.
He loved intimidating me.
I should have run. I should have turned away.
But there was that pull again, low, and magnetic beneath my ribs, dragging me toward the one person I had every reason to fear.
“I had my reasons this time,” Lorik said.
“And yet you’re here,” I said, tilting my head as I closed the distance even further, “all alone. When everyone, including your girlfriend, is out there dancing and singing?”
“I’m not alone,” he said, voice edged with quiet sarcasm. “And I don’t dance.” His eyes narrowed, expression tightening. “I also don’t have a girlfriend. Never had.”
Something in his jaw clenched at the word girlfriend, sharp, unguarded, before he masked it again.
The words hit harder than they should have.
Doesn’t he?
A strange heat curled in my stomach, curiosity tangled with something far more dangerous. Something I didn’t want to name.
Had they broken up?
Or… had there never been anyone at all?