The duke flushed with irritation. “I have plenty of sense. I just don’t bother myself with her wars. I don’t see why she needs me to strategize if she’s on a witch hunt to find where Raascot has infiltrated. She clearly knows exactly where they’re hiding. Why bother me at all if she’s requesting a dispatch to Yelagin? Moirai knows I can’t say a damned thing to the contrary, or I’m a traitor to the crown. Explain to me why I must have these consultations with ambassadors and feign my say in it when she’s going to take however many she wants, wherever she wants.”

Yelagin. There it was.

Their game of chess had ended. She was ready to finish the match.

Nox withdrew her hand and pulled herself on top of him, straddling the man, enjoying the gleam of his eyes as he admired her. She did love the way he looked at her. She was art, and his eyes worshipped her as such. His excitement was contagious. She was excited, herself, though for very different reasons. She brimmed with the full-figured body of a woman and the ethereal youth of something a bit more predatory than angelic. She appreciated the music of his moan as he watched her.

“By the All Mother, you are exquisite.” He reached to cup her breast, but she stopped his hand, pressing it to her lips and kissing it gently. The duke made a slightly frustrated face once more but paused obediently. This was her game. He was here to play by her rules. As she reached under the pillow behind him, her breasts dangled dangerously near his mouth beneath the dressing gown that hid them. When she sat back up, she’d pulled out a long band of silk and smiled.

He beamed a tawdry, open smile at the new toy they’d put into place.

“Goddess, yes.”

Nox winked and began to bind his right wrist to the bedpost, then his left, watching the duke tense in anticipation. Once his hands were secured, she approached him like a mountain cat from below, crawling toward him, drowning him in the plums and cinnamons and nutmegs and other spices of her scent. She tugged on his britches, pulling them down over his hips and unleashing him from the constrictive cage of his pants. His manhood throbbed, betraying his aching desire to be touched by her.

Nox began to lower her painted mouth, taunting him with her hot breath before she pulled back up and made a sound meant to say not so fast. The tension heightened his thrill. His desperation was so poignant, it had a flavor. It was a tangy, sticky want—no, a need. Goddess, she was lucky she’d tied his hands, or he’d have leapt for her. His reckless lust glinted wildly in his eyes.

This part was just for her.