One day you’re High Prince of your realm, living your life as if you have the world at your fingertips. And the next day, you’re a blood-seeking monster ready to tear the face off the first living thing you see.
And one day, you’re the same blood-seeking monster but a human woman walks into the dungeon determined to free you from yourself. And despite trying to tear her face off… She forgives you.
Like I said. Idiosyncrasies.
It’s been almost one full month since Rosalina has joined us as our guest. Well, that’s not quite right. She’s technically a prisoner. She can’t go home by Keldarion’s orders. Often, I wonder to myself if she’s planning an escape attempt. But without an escort through the Briars, she’d be fine prey for the goblins.
As I climb the ladder in the library to fetch one of our oldest relics from the top shelf, I cast a glance down at her sitting at the table. She’s leaning over some loose papers we found on a back shelf, comparing the information to a different text. Her nose is scrunched up, eyes determined, and dark brow furrowed.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s enjoying her stay in Castletree. Every day we meet in the library for research, and every day she brings even more determination and optimism.
After twenty-five years of being surrounded by doom, gloom, nihilism, and total denial, I have to say it’s refreshing.
I tuck the small book into my waistband and push my feet on either side of the ladder, sliding all the way down.
“Jeez, don’t do that. You’ll break an ankle,” she says.
I chuckle and hand her the book. She snatches it and immediately starts pouring over the Table of Contents.
It’s been so long since I entered the human realm, and I spend so little time outside of Castletree, I don’t ever see the few humans who’ve accidentally wandered through the Enchanted Vale and chose to stay. Rosalina’s nothing like how I remember humans.
Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulders, falling in a wavy cascade down her back. A few leaves have nestled into her tresses. Tracking back and forth across the page, her brown eyes sparkle in the late afternoon light. And the curves of her body are perfectly on display in a tight cream-colored chemise with laces down the front and a flowing brown skirt that sits snugly across her hips. The laces of her blouse have come loose, opening the front to reveal a glimpse of the milky-white mounds of her breasts—
Oh, stars. What am I doing? We’re researching. I’m not ogling her like a piece of meat the way Dayton always does.
But though my logical brain agrees with this notion, my body does not. I quickly sit so I can subtly adjust myself under the table. Thank the stars she’s so absorbed in her work.
Perhaps I could ignore these pesky inklings of desire if she were merely beautiful. But she had to go and be smart as well, sharp as the many thorns around Castletree. Delight fills me every time we bounce ideas off of one another, and she seems to pick up and connect with a concept like no one I’ve ever seen before. And I’ve never met anyone who wants to stay in the library for as long as she does. If we didn’t have Kel’s mandatory dinners—and my beast’s arrival every night—I’d suspect we’d stay here until dawn.
Rosalina starts reading out loud, but I can’t concentrate, which is entirely abnormal for me. Research is the one thing I can lose myself in. The one thing that gives me hope.
But every part of my mind is concentrating on two things and two things only: the perfect pair of breasts in front of me.
Why did I sit here? I could have sat anywhere else, but I’m front and center now to the entire display. I try to look elsewhere, but I can’t help it: my eyes flick back to her, leaning over the table, shirt totally agape. Her breasts hang heavy and soft, the nipples barely covered by the chemise. Damn, if she were to adjust slightly, everything would be visible.
I can’t move now. My cock stands at full attention, straining against my pants with urgent need. If I get up, she’ll clearly see me pining for her. And that’s not an option. This is her home now, and the last thing she needs is to assume one of her captors wants to throw her over this table and fuck her on top of the books we’ve been pouring over for the last month.
I scrub my face with my hands. No, no, no. What is wrong with me? I’m not like Dayton, a man-whoring rapscallion. Over the last month, Rosalina and I have become… Dare I say it? Friends?
At least acquaintances in a way she isn’t with the other princes. Keldarion seems to loathe her. They spend our forced dinners exchanging snarky comments before Kel usually loses his temper and storms back to his room. Ezryn, despite my urging to get to know her, refuses to engage beyond the most basic exchanges. I can see it in his shoulders: the way he tenses when she tries to talk to him, or even just when she enters the room. And Dayton… Dayton does as is expected. When he’s not too drunk to focus, he stares at her like she’s the last drop of water in the Vale and he’s dying of thirst.
My face heats, and I have to concentrate to keep my expression neutral.
“—interesting, right?”
I blink, and Rosalina glowers at me. “Farron, are you listening to me at all?”
“Huh?” I straighten, suddenly feeling like I’m a boy again, caught daydreaming in class.
“What I was just reading? It’s interesting, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes. Very interesting. Good find.” I clear my throat. She still hasn’t corrected the loose laces of her bodice.
I flick my gaze from her face back down to the spectacular sight of her breasts. It would be so easy to reach out and cup their fullness, to spin her around and push her down onto the table. We’ve been together nearly every day for the last month. I’ve seen her look at me when she thinks I’m not aware. Her eyes scanning my body from top to bottom, lingering on my chest, my arms.
What would she do if I tried?
She raises a brow and looks down to where my eyes are trained. Notices the loose laces. “Oh god, I’m a mess,” she mumbles and quickly does them up. “Sorry.” Her cheeks heat a brilliant pink.