I raise my eyebrow, still pinned between him and the hedge. Despite his closeness and his heated emotions, I’m not scared. I know how to take him down if I need to, and I trust him more when he’s not so composed.

“How exactly would you suggest I prove it?”

His gaze flicks to my mouth. “Kiss me.”

My breath hitches. “I think you’ve confused passion with compassion.”

“No, I haven’t.” His eyes glitter, and I have to remind myself that he’s a sick human being, because right now all I’m noticing are his expressive eyes and sensual mouth. “Compassion is showing kindness towards the man who killed your mother.”

“You want to see compassion? Fine.” I take the hand pressed against my shoulders and kiss his knuckles. “I’ve now kissed the hand of my mother’s killer.”

Before he has time to react to my chaste kiss, I bring my other hand up and slap him.

His head whips to the side. “I’m also a vindictive bitch,” I say.

Slowly he moves his face back to where it was. There’s a dull pink handprint across his cheek. His eyes flash, and I’m already learning that this is when he’s at his most dangerous. “And I don’t play fair,” he admits.

The words are hardly out of his mouth when he closes the distance between us and his mouth captures mine.

There’s nothing sweet or diplomatic about this kiss. His lips move roughly against my own, and his hand runs down the length of my side, as if even a kiss isn’t enough to satiate him.

I will my mind to go blank before I kiss him back. I press my eyes tightly closed as I force myself to wind my arms around his neck and lean into him.

As soon as he feels me respond, the kiss deepens. His lips part my own and his tongue presses against mine.

Oh God, I don’t think I can do this. It’s too much. I turn my head to the side to break off the kiss.

I swallow down my bile. “Enough,” I say, my voice hoarse.

He steps away from me, and I pull in a deep breath of air. The king’s staring at my lips, as though looking at them long enough might cause them to resume their former activity.

I gaze at him, feeling like a cornered creature. This is when I’m my most dangerous. He must sense it as well because he steps aside. I brush past him, and he catches my wrist. “I want to see you tonight.” His meaning is clear.

“No,” I say.

“Yes.”

“Not until you offer full medical relief to the WUN with no strings attached.” It’s a ballsy move, manipulating him like this. But this is why the WUN sent me.

“I could simply have you killed if you don’t agree.”