“Our kind are different to yours in many ways,” he says. “Many females will take several husbands.”
“I’ve heard that one before,” I confess and turn on my side. “I thought it was just a rumour back at the village. But I heard that because there are a lot less females here than males, the marriages are groups.”
“Something to that effect.”
His fingers pause their strokes of my head. I nudge his hand, earning a small laugh from him before he resumes massaging me.
“Is there not jealousy?”
“For there to be jealousy, there must be love—or something close to it. Care, affection, even ownership.”
“Ownership?” My face twists into a scowl.
“With you,” he says pointedly, “there is ownership. At least for the next six weeks,” he adds with a dark smile. “If anyone should touch you in that time, my rage would seek no end.”
“And after?”
His smile starts to fade.
“I mean, I’ll eventually get married back in my world.” If I survive my illness once I’m free. But that’s a dangerous thought I’ve been trying to avoid this past week. “And you won’t own me then,” I add. “So there won’t be any rage?”
Maybe I’m reaching for something here, something I shouldn’t be hoping for.
“You will belong to my village,” he corrects me. “But I will take no interest in your life once you are free of this bargain.”
My heart sinks.
Clearing my throat, I push up from his lap and swat his hand from my hair. “It’s almost the Quiet,” I say as an excuse to free myself of him. “I should go back to my room—”
I’m spun around and slammed to the cushions before I can finish my sentence. The prince’s tight grip pins my wrists to the cushions as he drapes himself over me, a dark smile dancing on his lips.
“Did I excuse you?” he asks, his tone playful and menacing. “Did I dismiss you, little human?”
A smile of my own betrays me as I shake my head.
Instinctively, my legs part to make better room for him. He presses against me, propped up on his forearms.
Slowly, he pushes my wrists further up until they meet above my head. He transfers them into one firm grip, giving me no escape.
His smirk widens as he reaches down between our bodies, the side of his palm rubbing against my core. My breath hitches, then he drags the skirt of my dress aside, opening me to him.
Bringing his mouth down on the corner of mine, I feel his smile fade to a smirk as he moves his hand for his trousers. He tugs the string once and frees himself. The weight of him lands on my pelvic bone.
I squirm in response, angling my hips to invite him better.
He wants it quick, I realise.
Gripping the base of his shaft, he drags its head down my aching bud to my slit. He doesn’t hesitate before he’s pushing his way inside of me.
He’s met with some resistance.
My core tightens against him, ill prepared.
I bite my bottom lip as he slips his hand from his shaft to my eager bud. He pinches it between his fingers hard enough to earn a gasp from me. His smile twitches against the corner of my mouth.
“Say my name,” he whispers before ghosting a kiss down to my chin. “And I might grant you what you want.”
“Give me what I want,” I challenge, “and I might just say your name.”