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wouldn’t help.
    “Take the first room. I find today has left me too anxious to rest. I’ve no plans of retiring any time soon.” Lilly handed him the key to the room she’d claimed as her own.
    It was unexpected to say the least. But he hadn’t gotten into the inner circle of the Assassin Princess by questioning good luck, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now. He took the key from her and left before any of the others could challenge him for the room. Having a bed to himself was a blessing in the current situation. A whole room, however, was a luxury beyond imagination.
    And it was an indulgence he intended to fully enjoy. As soon as he crawled into the bed, he closed his eyes and stretched out to take up as much of space as possible. He’d forgotten how comfortable sleeping could actually be when there wasn’t a three-hundred-pound brute snoring in his ear.
    Of course, it wasn’t perfect. Not when every movement brought with it the fragrance of honeysuckle that trailed Lilly. It was challenging being around her during the day when they were both fully dressed and preoccupied with their current assignment. But it was infinitely more difficult when he was lying in her bed with nothing to think about other than her soft skin and perfect curves. Her scent alone made him hard with desire.
    He tossed and turned for a few minutes but then gave up on the idea of finding a position that was comfortable with his erection. There was no way he was ever going to get to sleep in his current condition. He slipped a hand down his trousers before taking a firm hold of his dick. He couldn’t help but picture her face at the touch. But the mental image didn’t seem enough. It was more than her physical features that stirred him. True, her beauty was beyond question. The bards had sung of it in her youth. It had been her strength, however, that had truly fascinated him. And there was no way to capture that in a simple illusion.
    Her story had been too unique to dismiss when they had been introduced. She had been exiled—forced to live on the streets of foreign kingdoms—when she was only sixteen. How many women would have died under those circumstances? Not her, though. She had found a home among the outcasts of society. She had thrived.
    He stoked the rigid length of his cock as he remembered the way her mouth had tilted into a wicked smile when she had told him of her plans for the man her mother married. Kirin had been hooked in that instant. And he still was all these years later.
    He moaned as his cock became ever harder. He needed to find some form of release—even if it was by his own hand. The soft click of the door opening made him forget that hunger, though. He rolled off the bed silently and then grabbed a knife off the table before coming up to stand behind the intruder. As soon as he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her body against his, he recognized his mistake.
    “Not many men can hold a knife to my neck.” Her husky voice made his erection throb painfully.
    “And not many women would enter a mage’s quarters at night.”
    “Not even when the mage has the reputation of being wicked?”
    She caressed his thigh as she spoke. The action left him with little doubt as to why she’d crossed his threshold.
    “Seems like a waste.”
    “Yet you haven’t found it as such until now.”
    He hadn’t lowered the knife. She may not be a threat to his health, but his sanity hung by a fragile thread at the moment.
    “I was betrothed to another.” Her palm had worked its way up to his cock. “But, alas, that no longer holds true.”
    “I was there. I remember. And I also remember you swearing off all future entanglements.”
    “I did not come here looking for promises of fidelity and love.” Her voice shook with emotion as she spoke. “I have needs that have been sorely neglected over the past decade.”
    His desire quickly faded to annoyance. He was nothing more than a convenient bedding to her.