tear me to pieces, skin and bone

Chapter Five

Henry stepped further into the room, his footsteps echoing eerily around the silent room. Anne remained in her curtsy, eyes locked with his as he carelessly picked up a goblet of wine and drained it in one. His court waited with bated breath for the King's reaction as he tossed the empty goblet carelessly across his lady's quarters, sure that he would be furious with his sweetheart for hosting such a lavish affair without him. But Henry merely reached for Anne's hands and gently pulled her up and waved a hand for the festivities to continue.

Anne's smile did not waver as music began playing once more. "Your Majesty, what a splendid surprise," Anne said, her hand entwining with his and a small genuine smile fluttered on her lips as her King kissed her hand in greeting.

"I would have come sooner had you told me of your plans," Henry replied, his smile polite but his words clipped.

Her good mood vanishing, Anne replied with a sickly sweet smile, "Forgive me, my love, I assumed you were busy with your wife."

Eyes tightening with displeasure, Henry ignored her comment and changed the subject. "You look beautiful, my darling," he said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon her cheek. And she did look beautiful, dressed in a daring red dress that showed so much skin that it was bordering on unsuitable for a woman of Anne's station.

A reluctant smile hovered on Anne's lips as she thanked him, but Henry's attention was elsewhere. Anne followed his gaze and felt dread bubble in the pit of her belly as she met Thomas Wyatt's angry eyes. With one almost mocking bow to the King, Thomas strode out of Anne's quarters, Henry's unreadable gaze following his every move.

"Who was that?" Henry demanded, his voice carefully neutral as his eyes flicked back to Anne.

"Hmm?"

"The man you were dancing with."

"Are you jealous, my love?"

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Then perhaps you will spare a thought for me when you are parading your pregnant wife around your palace." His hand gripped her wrist almost painfully as she made to pass him with nothing more than a coy smile and a fluttering of lashes, alas, he was in no mood for her games.

"Who is he?" he demanded once more with steel in his voice. Something fluttered in Anne's belly as she looked up at him, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes hot with rage. With a smile fixed in place, Anne wrenched her wrist free from his tight grip and lightly replied, "An old friend, Sir Thomas Wyatt." She leaned in close to him as if sharing a secret. "We had a simple flirtation, long ago. He fancies himself still in love with me, begged me to marry him once he divorces his wife." Anne let out a breath of laughter, her eyes wild with wine and rage. "Is it not funny, my love? The only men in this horrid world who wish for my hand already possess a wife!"

Henry stared down at her, his eyes tight and focused and Anne hated him. Hated him for making her love him, his whispered promises of how he would call her wife one day, his Queen, the mother of his children and for ripping it all away just as she began to believe him.

Henry narrowed his eyes, his head tilting to the side and she wondered if he realised it, how much she loved him and hated him-

"Mark," Henry called out into the room, the music cutting off straight away at the King's voice. He took several steps back from Anne, that penetrating gaze of his never wavering as he said, "Play a Volta."

A hush fell across the room, but Anne barely noticed as she only had eyes for Henry, a reluctant playful smile falling into place as their eyes met and she saw the heat in them, that burning desire and want that framed his every action when it came to her, the need to possess her mind, body, and soul.

He did not look at Catherine in such a way, nor any woman.

Not feeling the eyes of the crowd around them as they hurried out of the King's way, the beautiful melody of the Volta began. Anne stepped around Henry, her steps slow and graceful, eyes hungry as he bowed before her, dropping into a graceful curtsy and holding her hand out for his, a kiss placed on his hand, eyes flashing with a dare to show her, show his court just how he really felt about Anne Boleyn. She spun out of his reach once more, twirling not for the crowd but for him, always him, his body tense, his jaw clenched and eyes wild as she drew close once again, placing a hand on his cheek, the pad of her thumb running across his sinful lips-

And then he finally held her in his arms, his grip possessive and face close to hers, their breath tangling together as he swept her across the room, his hands strong and sure as he lifted her up, her body firmly pressed against his as she came back down and spun her out and back to him once more until he was pressed close against her back. He lifted her arms above her head gracefully, his hands trailing down the skin of her bare arms and lower until they cupped her heaving breasts wantonly and then he lifted her in the air once more, the room spinning around them and she could almost hear the gasps of shock at such a display from their King and how the Queen would despair when she head of this.

For she would, the whole court would be speaking of this on the morrow.

But as Henry set Anne down once more, nothing else existed but the heat of his gaze and the feel of his skin against hers as she twirled away from him for the last time, her coy smile morphing into something dangerous and hungry as she jumped into his arms one last time, her legs wrapping around his body as he held her close and spun them round and round. She looked down at him, the most powerful man in England who looked at her as though she was his everything, her love-

She placed her hands upon his shoulders as she slid down his body, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she leaned in to kiss him but the dance was still not over as he dipped her once, twice, his lips parting as his breath left him, the ravenous desire he felt for her unleashed for everyone to see. He slowly pulled her to his chest once more, his lips inches from hers.

"Get out," Henry hissed when the music came to a halt, his eyes never leaving the woman before him as his courtiers rushed to honour their King's demand.

And then his lips were on hers, his hands like fire on her skin. She had never felt such a thing before, this burning need to be with someone, touch them, taste them claim them-

"I want you," he breathed, his chest heaving against hers but Anne was already shaking her head.

"Only my husband shall have my maidenhead," she insisted once more, and yet her hands were reaching for him, fumbling at the laces of his jerkin and pushing it off his shoulders. Her eyes greedily took in the sight of his bare chest as she pulled his shirt off, her breath leaving her in a rush as her small hand touched the hardened muscles of his stomach.

She may not be his wife, but he had her heart, and as she met those intense eyes that stared down at her with love, want, and perhaps most importantly respect, she began to think that perhaps that was enough.

For now.

"You shall not have my maidenhead unless you wed me, my love," Anne whispered softly, placing a claiming kiss on his lips, her smile both nervous and wicked as she stepped away from him and backed away until her back hit her bedchamber door. "But you may have other parts of me," Anne said, her usual brash and playful nature tinted with her nerves.