His head whips to the side, and I hear the click of his teeth as his jaw snaps together. Montes staggers, but only for a moment. I hear the pounding of several footsteps as some of the nearby palace guards run to help the king. He waves them off and rubs his jaw while he watches me, his eyes sparkling dangerously. Blood trickles out the side of his mouth. He must’ve cut himself with his teeth.

“So the king bleeds—I wasn’t sure,” I say.

He smiles. That’s all the warning I get. Then he’s on me. He swipes my feet out from under me, and I slam to the ground. The king follows, straddling me. He grabs my hands and holds them over my head. “Are you finished with your tantrum?”

“Not even close,” I growl.

I try to buck him off my body, but it only serves to tighten his grip on me. The king’s legs press into my sides, and he squeezes my hands. It takes me a few seconds and a couple deep breaths to realize that we’re in a compromising position.

As if reading my mind, the king’s eyes flick to my lips, a wicked grin forming along his own. I want to scream, but instead I force my strained muscles to relax. It’s even harder to swallow my pride.

“Are you going to get off of me and show me this surprise of yours?” I ask, trying to sound exasperated. It’s not very convincing, considering the series of events that led up to now.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” King Lazuli says, pretending to ponder my words. “It’s not very often that I get my bloodthirsty wife-to-be on her back.”

My face heats both with anger and embarrassment. He removes one of his hands from where they grip mine to brush his thumb over my lower lip. Heat ripples through my stomach. I don’t want to react this way, not in the middle of some hall in the king’s palace in front of palace guards. Not with him, and not after he’s just tackled me to the ground.

I lie there, watching, waiting for what he’ll do next. He gazes at my lips, and then he leans in.

He’s a hair’s breadth away from my mouth when I speak. “Don’t,” I say.

“Why not?” The king’s breath fans against my lips. He’s smiling down at me rapaciously.

I don’t speak. There are a hundred reasons why this shouldn’t happen right now, but my mouth can’t form a single one.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, his voice low. “I won’t kiss you if you can offer me something better.”

“I’m not your fucking employee, and this is not a business transaction,” I snap.