House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

“You came.” He shook his head. “I thought you might not have, and we didn’t talk since we made that plan, and I was worried—”

“Ruhn.” His name on her lips rocked through him.

He shuddered. “You know who I am.”

“Yes.”

“Say my name again.”

She came closer. “Ruhn.” Her flames parted enough for him to get a glimpse of a smile.

“Are you still in the city? Can I meet you somewhere?” It was the middle of the night—but it was the equinox. People would be partying until dawn. But they’d be masked—he and Day could fit right in.

“No.” Her voice flattened. “I’m gone.”

“Liar. Tell me where you are.”

“Did you learn nothing tonight? Did you not see how close we came to disaster? The Asteri’s servants are everywhere. One mistake, even for a moment, and we are dead.”

His throat worked. “When the Harpy came out of the shadows, I thought she was you. I … I panicked for a moment.”

A quiet laugh. “That would have been awful for you? To have me be someone you hate so much?”

“It would take some adjustment.”

“So you do have a notion of what you expect me to be like.”

“I don’t. I just … don’t want you to be her.”

Another laugh. “And you’re a Fae Prince.”

“Does it gross you out?”

“Should it?”

“It grosses me out.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve done nothing to deserve that title.”

She studied him. “The Autumn King is your father. The one who hurt you.”

“The one and only.”

“He’s a disgrace of a king.”

“You should talk to my sister. I think she’d like you.”

“Bryce Quinlan.”

He tensed at her knowing Bryce’s name so readily, but if she’d been at the party tonight, she’d know without a doubt. “Yeah. She hates my father even more than I do.”

But Day’s flame dimmed. “You’re engaged to Queen Hypaxia.”

He almost laughed it off, but her voice was so grave. “It’s complicated.”

“You danced with her like it wasn’t.”

“You saw me?”

“Everyone saw you.”

That sharpness in her voice … was it jealousy? He said carefully, “I’m not the two-timing sort. Hypaxia and I are betrothed in name only. I don’t even know if we’ll marry. She has as little attachment to me as I do to her. We like and admire each other, but … that’s about it.”

“Why should I care?”

He studied her, then took a step closer, until only a handsbreadth separated them. “I wanted to see you tonight. I spent the entire time watching the clock.”

Her breathing hitched. “Why?”

“So I could do this.” Ruhn lifted her chin and kissed her. The mouth beneath the fire was soft, and warm, and opened for him.

Flaming fingers twined through his hair, tugging him close, and Ruhn slid his arms around a slim, curving body, hands feeling her ample backside. Fuck yes.

His tongue brushed over hers, and she shuddered in his arms. But she met him stroke for stroke, as if she couldn’t hold back, as if she wanted to know every inch of him, his every taste and nuance.

Her hand slid along his jaw, fingers exploring the shape of his face. He willed his night to pull back to show his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Thankfully, it obeyed him. Beyond the veil of flame covering her features, he could feel her watching him. Seeing his bared face.

Her fingers traced the bridge of his nose. The bow of his lips. Then she kissed him again, with sheer abandon, and Ruhn gave himself entirely to it.

“You remind me that I’m alive,” she said, voice thick. “You remind me that goodness can exist in the world.”

His throat ached. “Day—”

But she hissed, stiffening against his grip. She glanced back toward her end of the bridge.

No. That male who’d once dragged her from sleep to have sex with her—

Day whipped her head back to Ruhn and the flame rippled, revealing pleading eyes of solid fire. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and vanished.

Hunt was still drunk when he and Bryce returned to the apartment at three in the morning. She carried her heels in one hand, the train of her dress in the other. They’d left the party soon after Ruhn had bailed, and headed to a dive bar in the heart of the Old Square, where they’d proceeded to play pool and drink whiskey in their ridiculous finery.

They didn’t talk about what they’d discovered in the cloakroom. What more was there to say?

“I’m plastered,” Bryce announced to the dim apartment, slumping onto the couch.

Hunt chuckled. “Very princess-ish.”

She removed her earrings, chucking the diamonds onto the coffee table as if they were cheap costume jewelry. The comb in her hair followed, gems glinting in the soft firstlights.

She stretched out her legs, bare feet wiggling on the coffee table. “Let’s never do that again.”

“The whiskey or outsmarting your father or the party?” Hunt tugged his white bow tie free of its knot as he approached the couch and peered down at her.