He knew everything.
He knew my life among his court was a lie, but worse, he knew where I came from.
The so-called Court of Storms from his tale—the Court of Pain. All my efforts to fool everyone, my endless games, dances to distract and delight, kisses placed on the backs of fingers while I picked their pockets for secrets. The Court of Pain was the approaching storm, and I, its silent lightning.
He should kill me here and let the ocean take my remains. If I were him, I wouldn't have waited this long. How was I still breathing?
The knowledge shone in his silver eyes, playing along the edge of his soft, honest smile.
I turned on my heel. It was over. I couldn't stay a moment longer. The net I'd feared had been tightening, had snapped closed. Rafe had me.
"Levi," he called, raising his voice over the sound of the crashing waves.
I could have ignored him, pretended I hadn't heard, but while my head told me to run, my heart ached to stay. No matter the consequences. Or perhaps because of them. He'd brought me here to tell me he knew.
I was a fool.
"Run, and I can do nothing for you," he said, now just a few steps behind me.
But I was running, and he gave chase. If I turned, I'd see his face, and I'd want to believe whatever he said next, take whatever way out he offered. But nobody escaped the Court of Pain, least of all me.
I stopped at the tunnel mouth, not yet venturing into its darkness. This beach, this prince under moonlight, whatever was said here was special. He'd hinted at that. A magic thrummed around us, the magic of secrets.
Perhaps, in this moment, I could speak as me, the real me. Not as Levi...but someone very different. "How long have you known?" I asked, without looking back.
"From the moment you arrived in my court."
Four years. My chuckle echoed down the tunnel until the rumbling waves swallowed the sound. He'd known everything this whole time? How was I still alive?
I turned, and his beautiful eyes were full of misplaced sympathy. "Then why let me continue?" I asked. "Why stand back and watch me seduce my way through your court? Why not take my head?"
"Because you are not like them. And neither am I."
Them. Those from my court, my home. "You don't know me," I snarled, and tried to turn and flee a second time.
His steel fingers caught my arm, hauling me back. "And you don't know me, Levi. But we can change this—"
I yanked my arm free. "It's too late." Fewer than three days, and all of this was over anyway.
Rafe squared up to me, his gaze searching mine for all the truths he was so sure he knew. "You did what you had to."
Then, I was a victim? Is that what he thought? "I didn't think you had it in you to be so naïve."
He grabbed my right hand and held it between us, the missing digit a horrible reminder of who held my reins. "You would go back to a man who does this?" Rafe growled.
"You speak as though either of us has a choice. I am your enemy, Prince Rafe." I tore my hand free. "Invite me into your bed, and you truly are a fool."
"Yes, you are my enemy. But that is not all you are. The same as I am not all you see."
I snorted and backed away. "The Court of Love… You might be the only one left in your court who believes in hope."
"I know they're coming. I can stop this," he said, following. "I'm trying to stop this— stop them, but I need your help, Levi. I've been trying… Behind the scenes, I've been working to undermine everything they've had you do. We don't need to be enemies—"
I turned again and headed into the tunnel. This man he'd become, the truth of him here on this beach… He'd turned into a naïve, hopeful fool right in front of my eyes.
"Don't walk away from me."
I strode back into the cool darkness. This was insanity. Work together?
He was absurd.
"Levi, damn you!"
His fingers dug into my shoulder, and he flung me against the tunnel's jagged stone walls. His hand spread over my chest, holding me at arm's length. His golden hair spilled wild about his shoulders, its tie lost somewhere on the beach.
"Damn you, listen… They killed my mother, drew a dagger across her throat, and made it appear as though she took her own life. They tried to kill Quinton because he knows about you. I arrived too late, but there's a chance he may recover… But, Levi, you alone did not poison my court. Someone else undermines everything I'm trying to save. I need you, I need your lies, I need you to dance for me, to fuck and tease and dazzle while I watch, and discover the traitor in my midst."
Then there was another killer among his court? Someone who had attacked Quinton, someone who killed the queen? It didn't seem possible. I would know, I knew everything.
Rafe drew a dagger from behind his back and pressed its edge to my throat. Cool steel burned hot. "I cannot allow you to return to the Court of Pain."
If he expected fear, he would not get it from me. I smiled. "Then cut my throat, Prince. Because I have no choice."
He wet his lips and breathed hard, the man on the beach, the man he was now. He wasn't a killer, I saw that now. He truly was the only honest person left in the Court of Love, and all this time he'd been trying to fix the loose threads I'd been tugging on. That was why he'd shied away from me, kept himself behind his chamber door. All this time, he'd known I was his enemy, and we'd danced around each other. He was clever, I'd give him that—I closed my hand around his and eased the blade from my neck— clever, yes, but Rafe was no killer.
I, however, was.
I shoved, toppling him off balance. As he reeled, I grabbed his jerkin in a fist and pushed him against the far wall, then held him there, his blade tight against his throat. I leaned close, like we had in the bathing pool, as close as lovers. His body trembled, his heat soaked my clothes. Every panting breath pushed his chest against mine. He smelled of the night meadows and sea salt.
Use them, abuse them, but do not kill them, the memory from four years ago teased, so clear it was as though my beneficiary, the Prince of Pain, whispered in my ear now.
"You won't…hurt me." Rafepanted, pale lashes fluttering. "I know you.
You're good."
"'Good'?" I laughed and stepped back, keeping him pinned under my hand. Hate glittered in his eyes, but hate wasn't all he felt. Desire burned there too, forbidden, wicked, and very real. I brought his dagger to my lips and licked the length of its blade. "The Court of Pain knows nothing of good."
With his free hand, he grasped my neck and yanked. I whipped the dagger aside moments before his soft, warm lips slammed into mine, delivering a bruising kiss. All thoughts emptied from my head. All but one: need. His tongue thrust in, demanding mine, but I pulled, and with the knife returned to his throat, he had no choice but to wait. Who was this prince that he could so thoroughly brand himself on my body and mind without my permission? I should have known he'd do something so un-princely he'd leave me speechless; it was, after all, his preferred method of distraction.
Real or fake, I no longer cared.
I nudged his mouth, skimmed his lips with mine, and when he tried to bite, I pulled back, eliciting a moan. He wanted this, me, all of it. I dropped the dagger with a clatter, and he lunged. His hand—the one not clamped on the back of my neck—twisted in my hair.
He hooked a leg around mine, trapping me close, and pulled me into a devastating kiss. His tongue lured mine, hips grinding, and it was all I could do to meet his ferocious attack with my own unhinged response. Shock, hatred, fear, desperate lust burned the truth of me—of us—away. We were two men again, two strangers, whose bodies sang for the other.
He writhed, tore from the kiss, and tilted his head back. I skimmed my tongue down his offered throat, over where I'd held the blade moments before. He shivered, moaned, and his hips bucked, rubbing his stiff cock against my thigh.
"Yes…" I moaned. Needing this, needing him so much, I couldn't think.
Rafe, under me, in me, I wanted that more than I'd wanted anything.
Just as I began to think I might get my hands on that princely cock soon, he thrust his hands between us and shoved, driving us apart.
Breathless, ablaze, painfully erect, I wiped a thumb over my lips and looked up at the riddle that was the Prince of Love.
Blood dribbled from a cut in his cheek. When he'd lunged for the kiss, I hadn't moved the dagger away fast enough.
I swept my fingers under the cut, collecting a scarlet drop, and licked it clean. Rafe stared, eyes wide, breathing hard. Whatever was going on in that pretty head of his, he couldn't deny his desperate need to fuck me. He'd been the one to begin this between us, not I.
Heat flushed his face, and with a flutter of lashes, he glanced away. He'd be even more beautiful on his back, legs spread around my hips. That startling image stole my breath. I needed space to clear my head of his sweet scent. He knew who I was, knew why I was here. Yet he'd offered help, or at least to use me to find the imposter. Such a thing was… unexpected.
"What do you truly want from me?" I whispered.
"Just your help. And I'll keep you safe, here, in my court."
"So sweet, those princely lies." I scooped up his dagger, tossed it in the air, and caught it by the handle, then tucked it up my sleeve. "I'm keeping this. Call it a promise, from you to me." I had to leave, to get some distance between us, before these emotions churning inside became a weakness.
Walking away from all he offered, from a man who'd made me want to forget who I was… It was the hardest thing I had to do. But he'd already proven he could not be trusted. I couldn't fall into this trap, because that was surely what it was. Princes made of honey and sunshine did not want creatures with darkness in their hearts.
"Levi?"
I glanced back. His hair and clothes were a mess, his face cut up, and his cock hard. "This did not happen. You and I don't exist outside of this beach. If we're to catch the Court of Pain's imposter, this must be our secret."
I remained unconvinced that there even was an imposter besides me, but someone had killed the queen. "Of course ,there is no us. In what world does a fool fuck a prince? It was all a dream, Your Highness." I bowed a farewell and stumbled back along the tunnel, convincing myself over and over that I couldn't go back there, take him back to the beach, and kiss him, stroke him, make him quiver and moan and beg.
The time would come, and when it did, I would savor him like a fine wine. Because he knew almost everything about me, held all the cards, but one. He wanted me more than he'd wanted anything in his life. He always had, even knowing what I was. In his honest heart, the man he truly was believed he could save me, and save his court.
We didn't have long. When the Court of Pain came for me, which they would, the Prince of Love's fantasy would be over, and so would his court.