I do feel used. But more, I feel ashamed.
I should never have let a dark prince touch me like that. I should have denied him, wriggled my way free. Instead, what I did was spread my legs for his fingers, lean into him and throw my leg over his hip. Iwelcomedhim.
If Sira knew...
Ooft,that wouldn’t be a pleasant chat.
Maybe I could confide in Terry. I doubt she would berate me the way Sira would. But still, she likely wouldn’t understand that I was—for that moment—driven by desire and lust, not thinking clearly.
And that lust is only growing...
Each time I think of him—or he simply flashes in my mind like a ghost haunting me—my belly flutters with a concoction of fear and anticipation, my core suddenly springs to life and aches for him, my mind spirals into fantasies that keep me occupied in the quieter moments between my duties.
But none of it can come to be.
It’s preposterous to even entertain these thoughts.
It needs to end. Maybe that’s what the prince has already done, ended it. He knew too that this poison between us was too toxic, and it could only get worse with time. A clean cut is what’s best for us.
Us. Listen to me. There is nous.
I need to cut him out of my mind like he has apparently done with me.
Easier said than done; still, I should at least try.
But the fear of moments spent alone with him comes too soon when the guests leave to return to their own home.
Prince Daein has no visitors now, so I risk falling into the abyss between us again.
And that fear is tested when, after a quiet Breeze, he calls for his dinner to be brought to his office. At least he’s busy poring over letters and royal business. That should make it easy to drop off the tray, pour his coffee and wine, then haul ass out of there.
Those are the thoughts I cling to as I tuck the tray against my chest, then reach out for the door handle. Manoeuvring the door and silver tray, I edge my way inside the dark office.
My eyes take a moment to adjust to the moody light in here. I take that moment to nudge the door closed with the toe of my boot and rebalance the tray in my shaky hands.
Anticipation crawls up my bones like spiders unleashed. The sensations creep all the way up to the nape of my neck and over my tingling scalp. A part of me wants to be in here with him, to turn around and watch his honeyed skin flicker in the faint candlelight. The other part wants to drop the tray and bolt back to the safety of Hilda’s side in the kitchens.
I have duties that prevent my escape.
So I turn my back to the door and step into the faint light of the office. My eyes search shortly for the prince, until they land on him in the far corner—not at his desk but—lounging in a leather armchair. There’s an unfurled scroll of parchment loose in his grip, one arm limp over the chair’s side. His head is bowed, his bright blue eyes fringed by his long lashes as he looks up at me.
I hesitate for a heartbeat.
I expected the ignition of tingles and excitement in my belly when I saw him again. I didn’t expect the breath to be knocked out of me at the sight of him.
And it’s all of him that steals my breath.
Has he always been this beautiful?
Has his full mouth always been the perfect shade of pink, and his jawline so sharp that I could cut stone on it, and his lashes so long that they cast shadows down his high cheekbones?
The prince’s ocean-blue shirt is unbuttoned, all the way down to his inked navel. Can’t stop myself from letting my gaze drop to the defined muscles on his chest, the shadow etched all the way down to his—
That’s when I notice it. He has no belly button, like I do ... like all the humans do. There’s a faint scar-like mark, as though a choppy paintbrush stroked his naval area just once, but that’s all. And it ... sort of suits him.
Everything suits him in this moment.
Even now, simply relaxing in a chair, the look of him makes me want to drop to my knees. I have the urge to worship him like a god, if only for a moment.