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    Summary

    Oh. She knew well what he wanted. 

    “You do understand,” she said, a cattiness in her tone that she couldn’t help but keep. “You have planned for me to meet you here because you cannot bear your defeat. Your people scorn you for it, or at least some of them do. Rather than face them, you come to me.”

    His grip tightened on her arm, and she held firm. He was taller than her, but not by much. Shuri had been lean and willowy even as a child, as a young woman, she’d grown strong. Though her experience was limited she knew well enough from her younger fumblings, just how to tilt her head to drive him mad.

    “Am I the only woman who would have you?” she breathed.

    “You–” he started, and took one step forward. His hand was at her back, cupping the fabric of her dress against her skin. Then with his other hand, he grabbed the point of her chin to keep her looking up, right at him, where anger and desire warred plainly in his eyes.

    “You are the woman I want.”

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