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That’s what it feels like as I lie here, draped over Slade’s body, our skin pressed together in shared warmth. As if the veil of life has peeled back, showing me the greater deepness, the vibrancy of a moment and my place in it all.

I want to stay here forever.

But of course, I can’t.

My fingertip traces over his rooting ropes of power, watching the thin lines as they sway beneath his pale skin. They’re slower now, sluggish, as if they too are sated and drowsing sleepily.

I give myself another moment of pure indulgence, enjoying the way our legs are tangled together and our bodies slanted, the feel of his arm wrapped around my back. It’s so achingly perfect that I’ve become melancholic, dropped in a dread of knowing that life won’t stay this way.

But I wish it would.

When the sky has well and truly blurred with the drab of impending daybreak, I finally force myself to get up. I need to do it slowly so I don’t wake him. Using my ribbons, I lift his arm enough to slip out from under him. I freeze when he makes a noise, but instead of waking, he shifts his legs. I use the opportunity to extricate myself the rest of the way.

With careful movements, I rise up from his broken bed and get to my feet, making my ribbons slip out just as gently. The fireplace is just a collection of smoldering coals by now, and the chill of the room raises bumps along my arms.

I start to pick up my discarded clothing around the room like birds to scattered breadcrumbs. My body is sore—deliciously so—and I’d really like to get back to my room and soak in a bath before the sun comes up.

I quickly pull on my gloves, dress, and stockings and then pluck up my boots, stuffing them beneath my arm. On tiptoes, I head for the door, hand grasping the handle and hoping that the hinges don’t squeak.

When I open it an inch and it doesn’t make a sound, I let out a little breath of relief, only for that breath to turn into a squeal as a hand slams the door shut again.

I whirl around finding a very naked, very awake Slade standing over me. “Going somewhere?”

“You scared me!” I admonish, pressing my hand against my racing heart.

He crosses his arms and leans against the door, effectively keeping me in. “Why are you sneaking out?”

“I’m not sneaking,” I reply. “I just didn’t want to wake you. You’ve barely been sleeping an hour.”

A devilish smirk tips up his lips. “Whose fault is that?”

My cheeks immediately heat, despite the cold air. “Yours!” I insist.

He pretends to cock his head in thought. “Mmm, I’d have to disagree. You were quite insatiable. Asked for us to go again on multiple occasions as I recall.”

I groan in embarrassment, which just makes him grin. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “The sun is going to be up soon.”

His green eyes flit over to the glass doors, to the horizon we can see over the castle walls. “We can fit one more time in.”

“I’ve fit enough in for one night,” I quip.

Slade laughs, and the delicious sound makes my toes curl. “Alright, let me get dressed, and I’ll walk you back to your rooms.”

My eyes nearly bug out. “What are you talking about? You know you can’t do that.”

He strides across the room, and I become momentarily distracted with his strong back and firm ass until both disappear from view when he enters his dressing room.

Shaking my head, I take the opportunity to open the door and walk out. I expect for the sitting room to be empty, so I startle when I find Fake Rip sitting on one of the chairs, a map rolled out on his lap and a platter of breakfast laid out on the table in front of him.

“Do you always wear that helmet and armor? It’s only four in the morning.”

He doesn’t even turn his head in my direction. “Trust me, it’s not my favorite look,” he murmurs. “It makes it a pain in the ass to eat...and take a piss.”

I scrunch up my nose. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Spotting my coat hanging on the back of the chair he’s sitting on, I walk over and tug, but it doesn’t budge beneath his weight. “Can you get off?”


Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy