Page 19 of Crown of Blood

The edge of her nightgown clings to the curve of her hip, slipping dangerously high. One more inch and I’d see everything.

I crouch beside the bed, close enough to feel the heat of her body, to inhale the scent of rose and clean skin.

My hand moves before I even think.

Two fingers brush the silk fabric, lifting the hem slowly, silently. Just a glimpse of what lies beneath.

The lace hugs her ass perfectly. Black, sheer, feminine—meant to be peeled off by teeth or torn in a fit of lust.

I want to tear it off. I want to see her flinch when she wakes to find me between her legs, tongue deep in what already belongs to me.

I want to slide my fingers between her thighs and feel how wet she is for the man who holds her life in his hands. I want to spread her open and taste what’s mine before anyone else ever could.

Don't get me wrong… this isn't about desire.

This is about power. About control and the throne that's rightfully mine.

But watching her sleep, seeing the way her lips part on each exhale... Something darker stirs in my chest. Something that wants more than just her body or her obedience.

I want to own every breath. Every heartbeat. Every defiant glare and sharp-tongued retort this woman throws at me. I want to break her down and rebuild her in my image until she craves my control as much as I crave giving it.

I straighten slowly, eyes locked on her sleeping form.

My cock is hard, throbbing behind my zipper, pulsing with the same need I’ve buried since I first laid eyes on her. But I leave her untouched. Unclaimed.

For tonight.

I lean down, letting my breath kiss her ear, my voice a whisper against the shell of it.

"Tomorrow, you become mine."

My voice barely disturbs the silence.

"And once that ring touches your finger, I’ll carve my legacy into your skin and fuck my crown into your womb."

Chapter Five

Bianca

Thecurtainstearopenwith a violentshhhk, flooding the room with winter light so sharp it slices through my eyelids.

"Up! Up!"

I flinch, the sudden brightness a blade across my vision. “What the—?”

“We have mere hours,” Teresa says briskly, already moving about the room with the precision of a woman used to controlling chaos. “You need to be fed, bathed, dressed, and seated before noon.”

I blink at her silhouette. She’s a blur against the light, dark clothes and gray hair tucked into something severe. Like a damn general preparing her soldier.

Only I’m not a soldier.

I’m the sacrificial lamb. Orlittle rabbit,if Luca has any say in this.

I blink, still slightly disoriented by the unfamiliar room. The bed beneath me is cloud-soft, sheets sliding like water against my skin.

I cup a yawn and look around. My gaze catches on the empty water glass beside the bed. The one Teresa brought last night.

A chill crawls up my spine.

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