Chapter 22 - Thief's Kiss

                                    

                                          
Darrel hated himself. 
   No. He despised himself. 
   He was a despicable human being. The worst kind of scum. He deserved to be cast off the roof of the palace's tallest spire without magic to help catch his fall. 
   Because after several days of flirting with Victoria in the palace halls, he had convinced her to take him back to her chambers, suggesting that he wanted to do quite a bit more than just flirt.
   And she had grinned like she'd just won half the realm in a bet.  
   The apartment looked exactly as he remembered. He glanced around the space, feigning curiosity. "Your room is nicer than mine."
   She shut the door behind her, flicking the lock with a click that set every one of his nerves on end. "Do you even have your own room?" she chuckled. Her tone held a constant sort of purr, like she wanted it to sound as sultry as possible. It grated on his already aggravated nerves. 
   "No," he snorted, hiding his shudder in a shrug. "Just a bunk like the others."
   "Well." She walked across the room toward him, her eyelids half lowered in a look of shameless desire. "Depending on how things go tonight, I might be able to change that." 
   Darrel forced himself to stay completely still as she ran her hands up his chest, releasing the buttons of his uniform's jacket one by one. Her eyes remained locked unblinkingly on his. Her dark red lips parted just the slightest bit. 
   It took everything in him not to fling himself back. 
   His jacket hit the floor. A chill swept over him in its absence, one that shouldn't have been there. The room wasn't cold. It was just the company he kept. 
   She looked him up and down, biting her lower lip between her teeth.
   In another life, he would have thrown himself at a woman like Victoria. She was gorgeous. And available. And desperate. That was the winning combination in his book, once upon a time. 
   That life felt so far away now. 
   Nothing but disgust curled in his gut as Victoria's eyes raked over him. Her fingers followed, stopping at his belt and lifting the leather free from the buckle. It slid from his waist and hit the floor with a crack. 
   "You know," she said, sweeping her hands up around his neck, "it took you longer than I expected for you to come find me."
   Darrel lifted a trembling hand to her waist. It was the first time, he realized, that he'd touched her. He hated the contact immediately. Everything about her felt wrong. She was too tall. Too curvy. Too handsy. He hated her perfume and the sound of her voice. Her smile had too much desire in it. 
   It was like she was Alie's opposite. 
   And his body reacted in completely the opposite way than it did with Alie, too. Icy dread rippled across his skin. The heat building on his palms wasn't that of attraction, but of disdain. He felt like shriveling up into the corner. 
   He forced a nauseous lump past his throat and pretended to smile. "Oh, yeah?"
   "Rumor has it that you're a bit of a flirt," she grinned, sweeping her fingers over his waist and slowly pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his pants. "And that you're not picky about who shows you any kind of attention."
   "A lot's changed since I was here last," he shrugged dismissively. So much more than you know. 
   "Yes, it has." She let her hands fall away from him, taking a step back to look him over. He nearly collapsed in relief that she wasn't touching him anymore. He had to concentrate on locking his knees to keep himself standing.