Page 53 of Dynasty of the Wicked

She swallowed down the apprehension clawing up her throat. She tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to touch the padded wound on his shoulder. “Are you most comfortable when you think you are a loveless monster? Bred to kill and murder?”

Feng Mian lifted a brow. “Killing and murder is practically the same thing.”

She ignored the snarky comment and slapped his chest lightly. “You will kill all my enemies, but it is too much for you tolivefor me?”

His earlier words rang in her mind.I am a monster bred for battle, Princess. I would not make a good husband for you. Nor a good lover, nor a good … anything.He wanted to fight and kill, content with being a short-lived warrior. She hated that he felt that way; that his life had no meaning other than battle and war.

Feng Mian’s body went still under her, and his jaw locked together tightly. “Princess …”

“You speak like you are a monster, but you aren’t.” She exhaled, her gaze searching his face for any hint of vulnerability, of believing her, but there was only stout determinationstraightening his brow. “I will kill my own enemies, Feng Mian. I don’t need you to die for me.”

He tightened his grip on her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. “You will be the death of me,” he murmured, eyes closing. This time, however, she wasn’t sure if he was listening to her words. “You want me to live, but that is not an easy task for a beast whose power is to corrode everything his magic touches. I was born for this—don’t you see? To fight, to kill—” He kissed her ear softly, inhaling her scent once more. “—and tofuckyou.”

A flush spread over her body, her toes curling. “Feng Mian, I’m serious?—”

“And so am I.” His mouth found hers again, and whatever protest was on her lips died off. Whatever thoughts she had, too, vanished as she kissed him back, her hands pressing over his chest.

They would talk about this tomorrow, she told herself. When they were back on track to flee from Wyer, when they were allowed to fall into the routine of running, then she would talk to him. Right now, though, she wanted a reprieve from it all.

She bit back a moan. “Feng Mian.”

Between his kisses, he murmured her name, over and over.

Tomorrow, she promised.Tomorrow.

17

Zhi Ruo awoketo the sound of the blusterous winds rattling the windows; she groggily peeled her eyes open, blinking at the early morning light streaming through the fogged, frost-tinged glass panes. The fire flickered softly in the hearth, Feng Mian’s magic no longer causing it to burst and pop. In the quiet like this, it was easy to forget that they were on the run, that they weren’t safe yet.

She turned her head to find Feng Mian fast asleep beside her, one arm serving as her pillow, and the other one draped over the hard muscles of his abdomen. His silvery-white lashes brushed over his cheeks, and the black magic pulsing beneath his skin appeared darker, angrier, in the morning light. The blanket only covered half his body, since Zhi Ruo had somehow tangled herself in it more than him. She grinned, pushing the blanket over his bare chest.

For a moment, she wished that things were different. That they were in their own home, waking up in each other’s arms like this, with the sun blinking through the windows at them, and a calm ambience surrounding them. She would have loved to wake up like this—to see him, to nuzzle her face against his neck and breathe in his scent.

Zhi Ruo sat up slowly, every muscle in her body aching. The hard floor hadn’t done her any favors, not even with the inch-thick straw sleeping mat. The draft chilled her naked body and she hugged herself, suppressing a shiver. They had barely slept, interlocked in each other’s arms all night long. A flush spread over her face at the memory of it. She had no idea … that she was capable of such things. Or that sex was this … intimate, vulnerable, passionate, and romantic. She couldn’t even think of the cruder version of Feng Mian’s words without blushing—that they hadfucked. It sounded too … vulgar and unromantic, but she wondered if he only saw it that way, and that she was the only one who thought of it romantically.

She shook those thoughts from her head; she didn’t have the luxury of concerning herself with those worries—they were on the run. She needed to focus. She couldn’t think about his body, or if he loved her, or …

Subconsciously, her gaze trailed over to the hard planes of his chest. The padded bandages around his shoulder had seeped blood at some point from their coupling, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. Her face flushed with more heat.

If anyone back in the palace found out … what would they think? That she’d had sex with the Zheng family’s cursed heir? Ying Yue would definitely gasp and gossip with the others. Liena, her maidservant, would probably be aghast.

But she was alsomarriedto him. What would they think ofthat?

Zhi Ruo ran a hand over her face; she shouldn’t even be thinking about what other people would say, but it was a hard habit to let go. When it came to Father’s court, she always needed to be on her toes. Rumors were enough to get her in trouble, sometimes, so she tried to listen to what others were saying about her. She never wanted to be caught off guard again.

Feng Mian groaned softly, rubbing the side of his face. “Princess? Is it morning?” His voice came out slow and sleep laden. He rolled over on his side toward her, his hand stretching out to touch her thigh.

“It’s morning,” she said, lying back down in his arms.

He pulled her closer to his chest and burrowed his face in her hair. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmured.

The corner of her mouth rose, her cheeks still flaming. She twirled a strand of his silken, white hair between her fingers, watching as the morning light caught in it. “I wish we could lie like this forever.” She noticed the way he tensed. “Maybe someday,” she ventured, her voice becoming small, hopeful.

He didn’t say anything, the sleepiness slowly ebbing from his face. He tightened his hold on her, his lips pressing into a firm line. Her chest pulled tight, and even though she told herself that they didn’t have time to talk about their feelings, it stung that he wasn’t saying anything. For a moment, all her feelings of inadequacy rushed over her in waves. He had probably only slept with her because that’s what men were like. He didn’t care for her—he hadn’t even told her he loved her, even though she had told him several times. And now, when she brought up being together in the future, he was silent. He didn’t want her. He didn’t?—

Feng Mian combed her hair with his deft fingers, framing the side of her face carefully. “If I survive, Princess,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against her cheek. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that I will die in a year or so. This curse will consume me eventually.”

Cracks formed in her heart and she inadvertently curled her fingers into a fist over his chest. Breathing hurt, the possibility of losing him shattered something deep within her. “Don’t talk like that,” she whispered, hating the wobble in her voice.

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