I was moving before I knew it, climbing into his lap. He straightened and moved his glass out of the way as my knees stopped where his swords rested.

  “Comfortable?” He tipped his head back and took another drink.

  “Yes.” I placed my hands on his shoulders and slid them down.

  “Careful,” he warned. “The dagger may not burn you, but it can pierce your flesh.”

  I glanced at the bone dagger. “I know.”

  A half-grin appeared, revealing the dimple on his right cheek. “You totally forgot the dagger was strapped there.”

  “Maybe.” I reached for the hilt and undid the strap, freeing the blade and holding it between us.

  “Should I be concerned?”

  “You tell me,” I remarked, my eyes tracing the wolf etched into the blade. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” he said, setting a hand on my hip to steady me as I leaned over and set the dagger on the end table. “You just had a whole lot of heavy shit laid at your feet, Poppy.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, straightening and turning my attention to the straps of his baldric.

  “You seriously have no memories of Sotoria?”

  “Nothing beyond what I dreamt while in stasis.” I drew my fingers down a strap.

  He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe that’s why you keep standing at the windows.”

  My gaze lifted. “Keep? It thought I only—”

  “You did it two nights ago.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t remember that.”

  “But you remember the nights before that?”

  “Mostly,” I said, feeling him tense. “I don’t remember why I was standing there, but I do remember us.”

  He nodded as my gaze lowered. Did some part of my subconscious somehow remember being Sotoria? Was that part stronger while I slept? It was the only thing that made sense. I wished it didn’t.

  “Seraphena said maybe I remembered more about her when I was a child.” I returned my focus to the straps. “But I don’t recall being weirded out by the Cliffs then.”

  “And now?”

  I nodded as I found the buckle on his side.

  “Maybe your Ascension unlocked some feelings associated with things related to Sotoria,” he suggested.

  That made sense. But I didn’t like that it did.

  “And you don’t remember the nightmare you had?”

  “No.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I only remembered the…gold bars.

  “You’ve always recalled them before,” he said as I toyed with the buckle. “What is different—what are you doing?”

  Having unbuckled the harness, I felt the weight of the sword shift. “Nothing.”

  He took another drink as my fingers moved to the other buckle. “Doesn’t seem like nothing, my Queen.”

  Unhooking the second sword, I placed my hands on his chest and ran them under the now-loosened straps. With the shirt like a second skin, I felt how his muscles tensed. “You know, I don’t really mind the shirt. You look good in it.”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Arrogant.”

  Cas winked. It was still a little infuriating how sexy he looked doing it while I appeared as if I had a twitch if I tried.

  I dipped my head and kissed him. I tasted the woodsy flavor of the whiskey on his lips. Nipping at his lower lip, I wiggled closer, seating myself more fully in his lap. He hissed when I pressed down. His lips parted, and he swallowed the gasp that slipped free when I felt the hard length of his cock right against where I wanted him. The kiss deepened, and I felt his heart rate picking up, its beat mirroring mine. His hands landed on my hips—both of them. I had no idea where his glass had gone.

  “Poppy—”

  I kissed him again, silencing him as I leaned in. The contact of my breasts against his chest, even with layers of clothing between us, caused my nipples to tighten to almost-painful points. He kissed me as a raw, needy sound escaped from the depths of his being, eliciting a fine shiver from me.

  Heady heat flooded my veins and between my thighs. Gods, I wanted him. And that need emboldened me. I reached between us, my palm slipping over the hard ridge. I felt him spasm inside his soft leather breeches and practically melted.

  “Fuck,” Casteel groaned, his hips rising. “Poppy.” One of his hands closed around mine, and my stomach curled low and tight at the thought of him guiding my hand over his length. The pang of desire was so intense that my breath stuttered and—

  Casteel pulled my hand away. “That’s not why we’re sitting here.”

  My eyes popped open in surprise. Stunned, I watched as he lifted my hand and brought it to his lips.

  He kissed my imprint.

  I tried to speak, but my throat constricted and nothing came out. Was he…rejecting me?

  “I want you to talk to me, Poppy.” His eyes met mine.

  Stiffening, my fingers curled around nothing. “But that’s not what I want.”

  “It’s what you need.”

  “No.” My gaze dropped to his lap. “That’s what I need.”

  “Poppy,” he grunted, his chest rising sharply. “You’ve been through a lot of shit in a short period of time. You killed your mother.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  “Then you fell into stasis, where a psychotic Primal god was able to get into your head,” he continued. “You woke up to learn that you’d been under his influence, then were pulled to another realm, only to witness its destruction.”

  “Haven’t forgotten that,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “You fought an Ancient. Without me,” he tacked on with a low growl. “That alone is a lot to deal with.”

  “Are you done listing things I remember?”

  “No.”

  “Great,” I muttered.

  “Then there was Stonehill. Then Tawny. Then Lowertown,” he went on. “And now, all of this.”

  I didn’t want him to continue, so I decided to quiet him the best way I knew. I lowered my mouth to his.

  Casteel caught me by the shoulder and held me back. “And you just found out that your—fuck,” he said, and my stomach once more felt like it curled inward. He shook his head. “You just learned that you lived only the gods know how many lives.”

  “I know.” I rocked back, swallowing hard against the knot forming in my throat. “I was there for the conversation.”

  He ignored my snarky retort. “It has to have messed with your head.”

  “Did it mess with yours?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

  Casteel didn’t answer immediately.

  When he did, the one word he uttered was like a sucker punch to the chest.

  “Yes.”

  CHAPTER 40

  POPPY

  Yes.

  The word echoed my heartbeat as I stared at him.

  “How could it not?” Casteel asked.

  Now, those four words joined the pounding.

  “Of course,” I murmured, rapidly blinking as I scooted back.

  I knew what I needed now. And it still wasn’t to talk. It also wasn’t him. It was distance. Space.

  He tilted his head, his hands moving to my hips to stop me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I gripped the arm of the couch, but he held on. “Can you let go?”

  “No.”

  “Let go.” I met his stare and let the eather surface enough to charge the air. “Before I make you let go.”

  An eyebrow rose, and a heartbeat passed. He slowly lifted each finger as he held my gaze.

  Scrambling off him, I stood and stepped back before bending to pick up my glass. I took a large gulp of whiskey and immediately regretted that life choice. The burn hit like fire and clawed its way down my throat, causing my eyes to water and my lungs to seize.

  “You okay?” Casteel asked, the corners of his lips twitching.

  “Yes,” I wheezed.

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  “Shut up.” I turned and made a face as I glanced down at the whiskey. I was never touching it again.

  “I think that was karma,” he continued. “For you not answering my question.”

  My grip on the glass tightened. “Of course, you would think it was karma.”

  “Poppy.”

  I stepped onto the raised platform, mimicking his tone when I said, “Casteel.”

  His sigh was impressively loud. “Talk to me.”

  I set the glass on the table and walked to the map of Solis as I searched for something to say that had nothing to do with what he wanted. Luckily, I found it. “Aren’t we supposed to meet with your brother?”

  “We will.”

  “We should do that now.” I kept my gaze on the map. “And seriously consider having a public address to assure the people they are safe and talk about the things that are happening in the realm. You know, like the sun.”

  “We will discuss that once we talk.”

  “We are talking.”

  “Not about what we should.”

  “No.” I ran my fingers over the hilt of the steel dagger holding down one edge of the map. “We disagree on what we need to discuss.”

  “That doesn’t change that we need to talk about it.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Don’t pretend you’re actually invested in that map, Poppy.”

  My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. I closed my eyes. A small section of my thoughts was operating somewhat logically. I had been through a lot. And I did have many things dropped on me. Stuff I didn’t think I could truly process even if given a lifetime to do so. Casteel was concerned. He was being gentle and caring. Thoughtful. Loving. My brain told me all that. But my heart…

  It went in a totally different direction as it dropped to my toes. And when it did, it woke up the other part of my brain—the bit that couldn’t believe someone like him wanted someone like me. Except it wasn’t the old insecurities about my scars or how I didn’t have the willowy beauty coveted by the Ascended. I knew he wanted me. I had just felt how much.

  This was a newer, deeper fear. And it didn’t matter that I knew I was being a little ridiculous—it was fueled by not wanting to think about all that stuff.

  I cleared my throat. “We should head back.”

  “Not until we talk,” he countered.

  Irritation joined the frustration, rising sharply as I opened my eyes. “You want to talk?” I faced him. “How about we talk about what’s up with you and Kieran?”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s not important right now.”

  “So there is something.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Poppy.” Frustration flared through him. “That’s not what I said.”

  “Fine,” I bit out.

  A moment passed. “Why don’t you trust me with how you’re feeling?”

  I stared at him for a moment, thinking I hadn’t heard him right. But I had. “What do you mean? Not wanting to talk about all that shit has nothing to do with you.”

  His jaw flexed. “It sure seemed like it did a few minutes ago.”

  Inhaling sharply, I smoothed my hands down my sides. He was right. It did have something to do with him. “Let me rephrase. It has nothing to do with me trusting you.”

  Casteel said nothing for a long moment, then cursed. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” I agreed. “We need to return. There are too many important things we need to be doing.”

  He lifted his gaze to mine. “Nothing is more important than what we’re doing—or attempting to do—right now.”

  My hands fell away from my sides and fisted. “You do realize I can just return without you, right?”

  “You would never.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  “Yes.”

  My gaze fixed on his knowing half-smile, and like with Lirian and many other times, I sort of lost my temper. “Fine, Casteel. A lot has been thrown at me.” Eather flared inside me, hot and ready. “I don’t even remember seeing my father, but sure, let’s chat. Do you want to start with what I unfortunately do remember? Like killing my mother?”

  The smirk disappeared.

  “And yeah, I am fine with that. It’s true.” I stepped forward. “She needed to die. But I can still hear her bones cracking—bones I cracked. Or should we talk about how it feels that I did who knows what while under Kolis’s influence?”

  “You didn’t do anything, Poppy.”

  “Sure.” I smiled, and it felt sharp. “Or we could talk about how anytime I think of the Continents, all I hear is the sound of thousands of people screaming in pain and fear? Or what it was like not to be able to do anything to help them?” My chest hummed. “Or how about that I see those little girls clutching dinner knives in their hands when I close my eyes? Or Tawny’s face?” I should have asked Seraphena about thanions. Damn it. “And think about how I ruined her.”

  He leaned forward. “You didn’t—”

  “No.” I swiped my hand through the air. “You wanted to talk about how I feel. That’s how I feel. You don’t get to say I don’t.”

  Casteel shut up real quick.

  I should’ve followed suit, but I didn’t. “We could talk about the shock of seeing my grandmother for the first time. Or what it’s like to know that my own flesh and blood was responsible for the state Jadis was in. It feels like shit, in case you were wondering.”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “But I’m guessing what you really want to talk about is Sotoria,” I said, my voice hitching on the name. “Well, you know what I want to talk about? What has your head messed up? Is it how I’m no longer just Poppy?”

  “What?” Casteel jerked back.

  “Is that what’s messing up your head?” I demanded. “I mean, you just found out your wife has apparently lived dozens of lives and has a psychotic true Primal of Death obsessed with her. That has to be it.”

  Casteel stood. “It’s not.”

  I laughed, but it sounded scratchy. “Really?”

  “Okay, it is.”

  Drawing in a stinging breath, I crossed my arms as a sharp ache blossomed deep within my chest. My clothing felt too tight, my skin sticky.

  “But not how you must be thinking,” he said, stepping forward.

  “And how am I thinking about it? Seriously.” I turned sideways. It was a genuine question because I had no idea what I was thinking.

  “I’m thinking it’s all kind of insane.” He took another step forward. “It doesn’t sound real.”

  A low laugh escaped me. “Well, we can agree on that.”

  “But it is real,” he said. “And none of that changes that you’re still Poppy to me.”

  I scoffed and looked at him. “Really? I thought Primals couldn’t lie?”

  His chin dipped. “I’m not.”

  “Or maybe that doesn’t apply to Deminyen Primals,” I countered, my neck tingling. Instinct told me that what I just said was wrong. The same rule did apply to Deminyen Primals. But what defined a lie wasn’t as black and white as one would think. There were half-truths—sugar-coated ones. Well-meaning falsehoods. But it all depended on the motivation that birthed the lie. Deminyen Primals couldn’t tell lies fueled by manipulation. “Or maybe you’re just not Casteel anymore?”

  He raised his brows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know.” I threw up my hands. “All I know is that you—” I stopped myself, clamping my mouth shut. I had a sinking feeling I was seconds away from embarrassing myself.

  “What do you know?” he asked. “And don’t you dare say, ‘nothing.’”

  I faced him. “Nothing.”

  He let out a dark, shadowy laugh that elicited two unique reactions in me—for very different reasons. “It’s a good thing I find your anger arousing.”

  “You sure about that? Because it sure didn’t seem that way a few minutes ago.”

  “A few minutes ago, you felt exactly how aroused I was,” he retorted. “And in case you’re wondering, if you had your hand on my dick right now, you’d find the same thing.”

  The heady flush his words conjured caused me to do the very last thing I wanted to. I opened my idiotic mouth. “No, thank you. I really don’t want to be rejected twice in a row.”

  Casteel straightened to his full height, and in the silent seconds that passed, I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and hide.

  And repeatedly punch myself.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my fingers against my forehead instead. “I can’t believe I just said that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m being ridiculous. I mean, you just told me I was the reason you cared about life again.” I rubbed my forehead. “So, can we pretend I never said that? Okay? Thanks.”

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  Swallowing a carriage full of curses, I dropped my hand. “What if I said please?”

  “This is the one time that word has no effect on me.”

  “Great,” I muttered, resisting the urge to pull my hair.

  “Is that what you think?” His brow furrowed. “That learning who you once were has affected how I see you? How you make me feel?”

  I wanted to scream yes but lifted a shoulder in a shrug instead. “I don’t know.” I folded an arm across my waist. “Hasn’t it, though?”

  “I think…” He exhaled heavily and shoved a hand through his hair. “I think I fucked up.”

  “No,” I was quick to deny. “This isn’t on you. It’s me, so you—” I gasped, jerking back as Casteel appeared directly in front of me. “Gods, you move even quicker now.”

  “I do.” He stood there, his arms at his sides, towering over me.

  Swallowing, I took a step back, bumping into the table. “I don’t think that was necessary.”

  Eather seeped into his irises as he stared down at me. “It was.”

  “Nah.” I reached down and gripped the table’s smooth edge. “You could’ve just walked over here like a normal—”

  “Nothing,” he cut in, clasping my cheeks. His voice dropped and thinned until it became a shadow against my lips. “Absolutely fucking nothing will ever change what I see when I look at you or feel when I think of you.”