Page 49 of Dynasty of the Wicked

He cursed softly and raised his hand toward the fire. All at once, the fire roared back to life, sputtering and popping like never before. Zhi Ruo leaped back in surprise, her foot sliding on the wet floor. She yelped, hands flying to grasp something, and tripped backward onto Feng Mian.

Her elbow connected with his face, and he cursed again, their bodies tangled together on the floor. Zhi Ruo struggled into a sitting position, her wet hair slapping him across his injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she began, chest rising in embarrassment. Her hands were splayed over his chest, one knee on his hip and the other beside his thigh. He kept one hand on her hip, the other rubbing his face where she had accidentally smacked him.

They both stared at each other—well, more accurately,shestared.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he whispered, voice gruff.

“I … No, I shouldn’t have tripped.” She sounded breathless even to her own ears. She tried pushing herself up, but he held her tighter until her breasts smooshed against his chest. Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” His eyes darkened. “Do you dislike it?”

Her lower lip trembled. She should have lied, should have told him that she hated it, that this was improper, that … she shouldn’t like being touched by him, but the words never came. The shame and guilt that should have been there was nowhere to be found.

Hewasher husband, after all.

“No.” Boldness bubbled up to her chest and she traced the thick, pulsing black lines marring his body.

He froze under her touch.

There were so many anxieties warring together inside of her—the fear that Wyer would catch them and imprison them forever, that Father would punish her for disobeying him, using magic, and marrying Feng Mian, and the fear of the unknown of their relationship. That they were doomed to begin with. That they would never survive in Father’s court. That … something would tear them apart in the real world. But she pushed all of those thoughts aside.

She didn’t care for any of that right now. Not when she was in love, not when she was free in this moment. Free from Wyer, from Father, from the empire that would scorn them both.

Zhi Ruo ran a finger down the column of Feng Mian’s throat, over the swelling, swirling veins of cursed magic. He remained still, waiting, like a beast barely restrained.

“What are you doing, Princess?”

“Nothing,” she countered, mimicking his earlier words. “Do you dislike it?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “No.”

And then she smashed her lips against his. A gasp shuddered through her body as he grabbed her hips and kissed her harder. They were a tangle of limbs once more, their hands exploring each other. Nothing had ever felt morerightthan it did with him; she wasn’t the wicked princess around him. She wasn’t even a princess. She was justZhi Ruo.

He flipped her over until her back was on the floor, his mouth trailing kisses along her neck and body. She clawed his back, legs wrapping around his waist.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear.

He hesitated, his mouth hovering over the hollow of her throat. “I am a monster, Princess,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do.”

He kissed her again, this time gently, more intimate. Like he was in love with her, even though he wouldn’t say the words himself. But Zhi Ruo didn’t care. She had never thought anyone would actually love her, anyway, so she didn’t need to hear those words. All she needed was to feel his love, because she didn’t think he would ever admit it to her.

Her nails dug into his back, her gasps growing louder, their bodies melding into one. She had never felt this way about anybody. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her back arching, toes curling. She wanted to feel more. She wanted to fall deeper into this madness, into this dance that sent jolts through her body, that made her feel closer to him than anything else.

She moaned his name and threaded her fingers through his hair.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

She didn’t know how many times she said it; it fell off her lips like a prayer.Thiswas what was missing from her life. The closeness, the gentle caresses, the wild beating of their hearts. She had never felt more alive than in that moment.

16

When they were done,their breaths came in labored, a sheen of sweat covering them both. He collapsed beside Zhi Ruo, one arm lazily wrapping over her stomach and yanking her close to him. He nuzzled the side of her head, his breath warming her neck.

She stared up at the ceiling, at the cracks of old age lining the wood. She tried to calm the racing of her own heart, but something seized her chest tightly, squeezing painfully. Pressure built in the back of her eyes. She exhaled slowly, letting her breaths shudder out of her in controlled paces; she didn’t want to cry. She couldn’t cry in front of him, even though … even though he had seen her cry before. Even though they had just been intimate. He had seen her vulnerable, before. Just now, too. But … But even as she tried to reason with herself, her face crumpled.

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