Read Online A Throne for the Taking by Kate Walker - Free Book Online

anything, that should give her her cue to get out of here—fast. She had tried to persuade him to come back to Mecjoria. Tried to make him see that he was the best—the only—man who could take the throne. Tried and failed. And the worst realisation was the fact that she had miscalculated this so totally. She had thought that she was the best person for this task, but the truth was that she had really been the worst possible one. She had blundered in where she should have feared to tread, raising all the hatred and the anger he had been letting fester for ten long, bitter years and the only thing she could do was to walk out now while she could still hold her head high.
    ‘Oh, but I would.’ That dark mockery curled through his words like smoke around a newly extinguished candle, sending shivers of uncomfortable response sliding down her spine. ‘And so would you, if you were prepared to be honest and admit it.’
    ‘I wouldn’t.’
    She was shaking her head desperately even though she knew the vehemence of her response only betrayed her more, dug in deeper into the hole that was opening up around her feet. Impossibly she was actually wishing for the cold-eyed serpent back in place of that wicked smile, the calculated mockery.
    ‘Liar.’
    It was soft and deadly, terrifyingly so as he emphasised it with a couple of slow, deliberate steps towards her, and she could feel the colour coming and going in her cheeks as she tried to get a grip on the seesaw of emotions that swung sickeningly up and down inside her. It would be so much easier if her senses weren’t on red alert in response to the potently masculine impact of his powerful form, the lean, lithe frame, the powerful chest and arms in contrast to the fine linen of his shirt. Her eyes were fixed on the bronzed skin of his throat and the dark curls of hair exposed by the open neckline. He was so close that she could see the faint shadow on his jaw where the dark growth of stubble was already beginning to appear, and the clean musky aroma of his skin, topped with the tang of some bergamot scent, was tantalising her nostrils.
    The memory of that kiss was so sharp in her mind, the scent of his body bringing back to her how it had felt to be enclosed in his arms, feel the strength of muscle, the heat of his skin surrounding her. The trouble was that she did want him to kiss her—that was something she couldn’t deny. It was there in the dryness of her mouth, the tightness of her throat so that she could barely breathe, let alone swallow. The heavy thuds of her heart against her ribs were a blend of excited anticipation and a shocking sense of dread. She wanted his kiss, wanted his touch—but she knew just what she would be unleashing if she allowed anything to happen. And she already had far too much to lose to take any extra risks.
    ‘No lie,’ she flung at him. ‘Not then and not now. I can see I’m wasting my time here.’
    ‘That’s one thing we can agree on.’
    It was when he swung away from her that she knew every last chance of being heard, or even getting him to give her a single moment’s consideration, was over. The hard, straight line of his back was turned to her, taut and powerful as a stone wall against any appeal she might direct towards him. And the way his hands were pushed deep into the pockets of his trousers showed the fierce control he was imposing on himself and the volatile temper she sensed was almost slipping away from him.
    ‘It seems that you’re not going to be any use to me so I might as well call it a day.’
    ‘Please do.’
    If he stayed turned away, Alexei told himself, then he might just keep his wayward senses under control until she had left. It was shocking to find the way that cold fury warred with an aching burn of lust that held him in its grip, unable to move, unable to think straight.
    In the moment that she had stood up and faced him he had known that the rush of hard, hot sensuality of a few moments before had