Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
He doesn’t understand me at all. I’m not letting anyone entrap me. If I ever decide to date someone, it will be on my terms and because I chose to, not because a hot elf prince stole me away in a carriage.
“Thank you for the healing lotion. I’m feeling better already,” I say in a docile voice I reserve for my manager when I’m late.
“I’m glad,” Kyranis says, letting his hand linger on my chest, so close to my nipple I can feel it throbbing. I try occupying myself with something else, but as my gaze trails down the tattooed torso and descends lower, I’m assaulted by heat as I spot a stiff shape at the front of Kyranis’s pants.
Oh fuck.
The outline… sure is something. I have to force myself to look away, but my dick is swelling between my legs like this is a regular Grindr hookup, not an abduction situation.
“Um… I’m really tired now, so…” Pathetic, but it’s the best I can do. If anything, I should be applauded for my magnificent restraint, because if this was a bathhouse, or pretty much any other setting, I would be unpacking my surprise gift already.
Not today.
Kyranis can’t fully conceal his disappointment, but he doesn’t attempt to hide his arousal at all as he rises to his feet, showing me that magnificent bulge in its full glory. “Of course. You need to relax for the big day tomorrow.”
I may have drooled a little when he bent over to pick up my clothes like he’s my housekeeper, not a prince. Buns of fucking steel in that skintight leather.
Right before walking out, he turns my way and catches me staring. Again. I really need to work on my reflexes.
“If there’s no sun… how will I know it’s morning?” I ask because it’s the first thing that comes to my mind.
Kyranis looks at me with a benign smile, as if I asked him what meat chicken nuggets are made from.
“Well, once the moon rises again, of course. Now rest. If you need anything, there’s a bell on the wall right next to your bed,” Kyranis says as he buttons himself back up, covering the tattoo I’m not allowed to mention to anyone.
“Sweet dreams, my promised,” he says, and one wistful glance later, he’s gone.
I sink deeper into the water, relieved that I’m not aching anymore, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my problems.
Maybe I could fuck him first and only then run away? Would that really be so wrong? It could be considered a smart move. A distraction. Not at all a way to have my cake and eat it too.
“Fuck me…” I mumble into the water.
Chapter 9
Kyran
I’m on fire as I wrap myself in the cloak, hiding the evidence of my arousal. He desires me too, I can smell it on him, but the proper thing is to wait until the wedding at least. He has every right to be scared and confused, and I ought to give him time to adjust, but it is so very difficult when for the first time in my life I am free to answer my needs. With the real Kyranis, my twin, gone, I am free to step out of the shadow and take any lover I want. No longer just a tool to strike from the darkness, I can live in the moonlight at last.
And what I want to do is climb into the bathtub with Luke and take him. Watch his pretty face twist as he rides my cock. Grab his hips, and legs, and arms so hard he’s bruised under all the finery he will be wearing tomorrow. Leave a hickey that just about peeks out from under a high collar. I want—no, I need everyone to know he’s mine in all ways.
He will wear my family crest.
He will eat my food.
He will live in my palace.
I need to be gentle when the situation calls for it and stern when he tests my patience. A perfect balance for a prince. One my spoiled brother never managed to maintain.
I’m walking out of the caged part of the room, locking my promised behind bars decorated with silver seaweed when someone opens the door as if it’s their birthright.
I pull out my sword in an instant and force it to take the shape of a rapier, which will serve me better in close quarters than a massive sword. This might be an ambush, and I need to stand between whoever’s coming and my promised.
Tristan stops in his tracks and lifts his hands palms up. “Let’s not get too hasty!”
My brother’s official bodyguard and all-around menace, Tristan Bloodweed. Another cousin who needed a position in court, so he got the job. A smart move on my father's part, because his title of Knight supersedes his princely origin and bars him from ever becoming a Lord, the only exception being if all the other princes and princesses die, but that’s not happening any time soon. I have to reluctantly admit he has some skill in waving a sword around, and two eels around his forearms to prove it, but he lacks ambition. Which is a good trait in a royal cousin, but he would have been more useful if there was more than seafoam between his ears.