Free Defy by Sara B. Larson Page B

asking me such questions? He’d never
    made an effort to win me over before. Was this some sort of new
    game? To play on the emotions of the guard who just lost
    her — his — brother?
    “I hope that you will find your trust to be well placed in me,
    sir,” I finally replied, the back of my neck hot.
    “That’s not a very firm answer.” He took a step closer to me.
    I had to tilt my head back a tiny bit to look up into his face. It
    made me feel far too much like a girl. “Yes, sir. You can trust me.”
    “Do you have many friends, Alex?”
    “Friends, sir?”
    “Someone to talk to or laugh with. Perhaps someone you can
    confide all your secrets in.” He lifted one eyebrow. Though he
    sounded f lippant, there was a serious glint in his eyes that made
    my throat go dry.
    “I had my brother, sir.”
    “But now he’s gone.”
    “Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper.
    “So you’re friendless. Alone.”
    A strange, panicky feeling overcame me. I didn’t understand
    what he was doing — what he wanted. “I have the other members
    of the guard, Your Highness.”
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    Prince Damian was silent for a long moment. “Of course you
    do. I apologize for prying into your personal business.”
    Our eyes met and held and suddenly I wondered the same
    thing — did he have any friends? Or was he, too, all alone? I’d
    been guarding him for a year, and I’d never even thought about it
    before. My cheeks grew warm with shame.
    Damian took a step back, his expression unreadable. “I should
    let you rest. But first, would you please ring the maid for some
    clotted cream and berries? I find myself craving something sweet
    tonight after all the stress of this day.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    He nodded, then turned on his heel, strode into the inner
    chamber of his rooms, and shut the door. I stared at it for a long
    time, my mind racing my heart.
    When the maid brought up the requested food, she also brought
    me a bowl of water, a cloth, and a clean tunic. I set the supplies
    for myself on the f loor next to the cot and picked up the bowl
    of cream and fruit for the prince. Acai berries, such a deep blue
    they were almost purple, and sliced papaya and mango filled the
    bowl. Their juices ran down over the cream, staining it and
    making my mouth water. When I knocked softly, he called out,
    “Enter.”
    I pushed open the door and entered his room. The fireplace
    was dark and empty; it was too hot for a fire. Candles f lickered
    from multiple candelabras around the room, making the shadows
    stretch and sway, chasing the orange light of the f lames.
    “You may set it on the desk. Thank you, Alex.”
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    I walked quickly across the room and did as the prince asked.
    When I turned, he stood by his bed, shirtless, his chest and arms
    coated with a fine sheen of sweat. His extremely well-muscled
    chest and arms. His stomach was f lat and chiseled. He was as
    strong as any of the men on his guard, perhaps even more so than
    most. In the warm light of the candles, Prince Damian was almost
    painfully handsome. I suddenly felt too hot. Like all the heat in
    the room had surged into my body, coalescing deep in my belly.
    Lightning f lashed, filling the room with bright white light, mak-
    ing me f linch.
    “Was there anything else?”
    My eyes widened when I realized I’d been staring at his body.
    My cheeks f lamed, making me grateful for the low light of the
    candles. “Sir, you’re covered in sweat. Are you taking ill?” I asked, keeping my voice low and gruff. Manly. It was as good a cover
    as I could come up with. No one looked like that unless they
    exercised — a lot .
    “I’m in perfect health.” He shot me a wicked grin. “As you
    may have noticed.”
    My mouth went dry and my face burned even hotter. But
    before I could think of any other ways to dig myself into a deeper
    hole of humiliation, he continued, “You may go, Alex.”
    I bowed brief ly and strode out of the room, my body on fire
    with embarrassment —