The Veiled Kingdom (The Veiled Kingdom, #1)

by Holly Renee

“Us bringing you here means you can’t tell anyone else.” “Who am I going to tell?” I chuckled as I glanced around. “Me.” Dacre’s voice raked down my spine, and I turned to see him lounging against a large boulder.

“Does that mean you’re going to strip down in his room tonight and sleep in his bed?” Eiran went rigid beside me, and Wren sucked in a sharp breath that echoed in the silence as everyone watched the exchange. But Dacre was only looking at me.

“Come here, little traitor,” he whispered, and I shivered, hating that he drew a reaction from me so easily. “Come show me what Eiran taught you today.”

When Dacre noticed my expression, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk, a dimple making its appearance on his right cheek.

He reached out and delicately brushed a strand of hair off my chest, his hand grazing my skin as he leaned in close. His breath was warm on my cheek as he whispered, “You haven’t seen me be mean. If I were mean, I’d slide my cock between your lips to keep you from talking when I tire of hearing you speak.”

“Come on.” He nodded behind him. “I want to show you something.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m terrible.” I patted Eiran’s hand, and he chuckled. “Yeah. You kind of are.”

“Dacre, seriously. Give me the bottle.” “Okay.” Dacre nodded and leaned his head back to look up at his sister. “I’ll give it to you under one condition.” “Which is?” “Nyra.”

“You looked like you were growing awfully fond of Eiran too.” “Jealousy isn’t a good look for such a handsome guy.”

When he locked eyes with me, his touch was so gentle it sent a shiver down my spine. “Did you just call me handsome?” “I’m pretty sure I was talking about Eiran.” “I don’t think you were.” He licked his lips again, and although he seemed to be absently doing the move, it was utterly infuriating. “It’s okay if you think I’m handsome.” “I also think you’re an ass, but you’re really clinging to the handsome thing, aren’t you?” “I am.” The smile in his voice made me step forward mindlessly.

“Please don’t fall in. You’ll drown before I’ll be able to get you up.” Dacre smirked. “Are you worried about me?” “I’m worried about finding my way back out of here.”

I was the princess of Marmoris, and here I sat with our enemy, talking about the cruelties of my king. A king who should have had no more loyal a subject than his heir.

“You wearing nothing but my shirt.” He didn’t hesitate, his words coming out slow as if he could taste them, and they hung in the air like an unspoken promise, making my skin tingle with anticipation. “It’s really the only thing I can seem to think about since last night.”

“I was wearing more than just your shirt.” “I know,” he groaned softly. “But all I could think about while lying there in the dark is what if you weren’t.”

“Did you wear this tonight to punish me?” “How in the world would this be punishing you?” “Because you’re not mine.”

“What are you doing?” “Enjoying you for a moment.” He breathed me in, and I pressed my thighs together as the deep rumble of his voice washed over me. “There’s nowhere for you to run away to now.”

“Do it.” He pulled me closer, his muscled arm wrapping around my waist. His fingertips grazed my bare stomach as he murmured in my ear, “I would love for Eiran to come back here and see us exactly like this.”

“Do you see them?” “No. Come on, Eiran.” That was Wren. “Dacre is more than capable of taking care of Nyra.”

“Dacre.” The sound of his name was muffled against his palm, and he groaned against the back of my neck. “Gods, I love when you say my name.”

“I love it even more knowing that Eiran is looking for you.”

He took my chin in his hand, his calloused thumb gentle against my skin until my lips collided with his. The kiss wasn’t gentle or teasing,

“Nyra!” Eiran called again, and I quickly turned my head in the direction of his voice. I still couldn’t see him, but I could see the edge of a light coming our way. “Dacre.” “Don’t you dare.”

“I have been starved, Nyra. Until you.”

Wren looked at me, and her eyes were assessing, but there was no judgment there. No hatred.

Nyra. Gods, I missed her. I tried to remember the sound of her voice, the look on her face when she would laugh, but it all felt hollow. I missed her so damn much, and I could hardly remember her.

“Get her back underground,” she demanded. “Get her to Dacre.”

all I could do was smile. Because she wanted me as badly as I had wanted her.

“Nyra.” I cursed under my breath as I shot forward in their direction.

“Don’t be an ass to her.” The marks on her neck were darkening with every second she sat in front of me, and here she was defending my sister against…me. “I’m not being an ass.” “Yes. You are.” She huffed

She had been one of them her entire life, and still, she saved my sister.

and seeing my father’s mark on her now, made me feel possessive over her when she wasn’t mine. But I wanted to make sure that everyone in this entire damn rebellion knew that she was.

“I don’t want them to touch me. I don’t trust them to touch me.” “We have to get you healed.” I watched Nyra’s every movement, the way her eyes darted to my face before she quickly looked away. “Dacre can heal me.”

“Just give me the peace of mind.” I helped Nyra to her feet and pulled her in close to my body.

“Breathe, Nyra.”

“My father won’t do this again. Don’t worry,”

“Say it, Nyra. After what?”

“Then I’ll find someone else.” I pulled the door open, and the sound of the warriors milling about the healing quarters flooded the room. “Over my dead body, Nyra.” He spoke so casually as I walked away from him. “You’re with me.”

He braced himself against the doorframe, but he didn’t let his gaze waver from me.

My neck was still sore from his father’s hand, and I knew that he couldn’t see past the bruises when he looked at me.

Dacre reached down, careful of my injuries, and pulled me up.

My mother’s stories had been the only thing I had. But her stories were nothing but fables that she told to a girl who was desperate for freedom.

“Are you okay?” Dacre asked so quietly I barely heard him, but there was concern etching the lines around his eyes.

I moved to Dacre’s side, tucking myself beneath his cloak and wrapping my hands around his middle. I was invading his space, but I couldn’t bring myself to care in that moment.

“Dacre.” I lifted my right hand and pressed it against his cheek, my fingers tucking around the back of his neck, and I pulled his head down until he was forced to look at me.

He reached into his pocket, and I started to back away from him slightly, but his other arm shot out around my waist and his fingers latched on to my hip as he pulled me impossibly closer to him. I pressed my hand against his chest as I tried to hold myself steady.

My hands began to tremble, and Dacre reached for my hand that was resting on his chest and lifted it to his mouth for a brief kiss before he spoke. He kept my hand in his, no doubt, to keep the guard from seeing how nervous I was.

Dacre had looked over at me and his gaze held mine, unwavering and intense, silently begging me to trust him. Something he would never say with his words, and I hated that I did so, so easily.

“Nyra,” I answered her and crossed my arms over my chest. “Like the former queen?” she asked, and her eyes only seemed to narrow further. No one ever called my mother by her name. “Exactly. I was named after her. My mother was quite fond of the former queen.”

“You remind me of her.” She nodded to the woman in the picture frame. “My Camilla.”

“She made many sacrifices for the people she loved. Like you.” “I’ve not made any sacrifices.” “Haven’t you?”