Page 67 of Princess of Death

He didn’t compliment my appearance like most men did. He complimented my character, seemed entranced by it, and it was the first time a man had done so…besides my father.

I rose on my tiptoes and caught his lips with my mouth. Our mouths came together with the softness of clouds, but it still caused a firestorm in my veins. The heat between us was scalding, but it burned my body deep beneath the flesh.

He met my desire with his own. With sheathed intensity, he kissed me slowly, felt my lips with purpose. Then his big arms lifted me, and he carried me to the couch in front of the fire. He dropped down into the seat and pulled me on top of him, like he wanted me to do the work tonight.

He pulled my shirt over my head and exposed my tits. The second they were within sight, he bathed them in kisses, worshipping my body like I was a statue of a goddess. He didn’t take a bite of my flesh, but he devoured me like a meal he’d been craving all day.

He removed my panties and left my socks, and I tugged off his trousers before I straddled him once more, a beast of a man underneath me, almost too big to ride. I gripped his shoulders for balance, and he guided himself inside me, the arousal and desperation a cloud in his gaze.

I’d seen men want me, seen the flames of desire burn in their eyes, but the look Wrath gave me was different. Like he wanted more than my body, but my mind, my soul, my entire essence.

When we came together, I winced and whimpered because his entry was also intrusive. But then my slickness did its job, and the pain turned into pleasure. It was a tight fit—any more girth would have been a deal breaker for me.

He gripped my hips and then my ass, guiding me on top of him, showing me the way he wanted me to rock my hips to take him. His eyes were on mine, and his breaths slowly increased like he needed air the way I did. His stare burned in molten flames, and he clutched me harder as we moved together.

His hand went to my throat, and he squeezed as I continued to ride his length. “Xivin…” With his quiet confidence, hepossessed me, made me his without my cooperation. He’d slowly taken me piece by piece, deepened a connection that was supposed to be only flesh.

My arms circled his neck, and I brought my body closer to his, my tits grazing his hard chest as I moved, feeling our lungs ache for breath at the same time. My fingers dug into the back of his hair, and I felt my body grind against his harder. He was the sexiest man I’d had in my bed, the sexiest man who had been underneath me with muscle on muscle, with a height that really did make him a monster, and he was the dirtiest secret I’d ever kept.

I’d bedded him enough to know his tells, and I knew he stood on the same threshold but was kind enough to wait for me to walk through first. His dick was harder than stone and loaded like a cannon ready to fire.

I came first, slathering his dick in my cream, digging my nails into flesh covered in sweat. He felt bigger as I squeezed, felt thicker than the trunk of an ancient tree. My eyes closed briefly before I found his again, seeing the same intensity as the moment when we met—when he’d looked like he’d wanted to kill me.

He gripped me harder than he probably meant to and gave his final pumps, making me grind harder against him as he released his desire deep inside me. His hands were so big on my petite body, powerful enough to kill me with a single squeeze. But when he held me, it felt safe rather than threatening, felt like home rather than a foreign place.

He finished with a quiet moan then sank into the cushion as he relaxed, but his eyes were still hard on mine like his desirehadn’t been satiated. A single round was never enough for him. If anything, it was a warm-up.

He scooped his hands underneath my thighs and lifted me as he stood, before he carried me toward the bedroom, his hard dick still crammed inside me and ready for another go. He rolled me onto the bed and moved with me, forcing me open and tilting my pelvis as far as it could go. Then he pounded into me so hard it was like he hadn’t had me in a week, let alone seconds.

I lay in bed with him beside me, the fire in the hearth keeping out the winter cold, but it was his body that kept the heat right against my skin, made the sheets feel like spring sunshine. I trailed my fingers over his thick arm, following one of the rivers of his veins, a vein that no longer carried blood.

As always, he stayed. Never had somewhere else to be. “I can tell it’s still bothering you.”

My fingers left his arm, and I met his stare.

“I can listen.”

“I don’t want to bore you with my family problems.”

“Your problems are my problems.”

“Are they?” I whispered. “Because you’re dead and I’m alive.”

He stared into my eyes for a while. “You make me feel alive.”

This was not the Wrath I’d met weeks ago. He didn’t come to me in his king’s uniform and his heavy sword. He didn’t come to me with contention and distance. Now, he came to me like…he wasthe closest person to me. “My loyalty is ripped in two. I want to defend my father the way he’s always defended me, but that’s hard to do.”

“Because your brother’s claims are true.”

My eyes shifted away, partly in shame. “Admitting that to Hawk will just make it worse.”

“An admission on your part won’t change the situation.” His big hand skated over my body, feeling my soft skin under the sheets, following the swell of my hip to the valley of my waist. “This issue doesn’t concern you.”

“But it does concern me.” My eyes dropped to his chin and the haze of his chest in the background. “When I sparred with my father, I even accused him of it—jokingly, of course. But it wasn’t a joke.” My hand gently planted against his hard chest, and I expected to feel a heartbeat, but there was nothing but warm stone basking in the sun. “I’ve always felt a special connection with my father. He always told me how blessed he was to have me. That I was a gift he’d prayed for. And he told me he’d always wanted a daughter, when most kings wanted sons and heirs. But not him. I’ve never understood why.” I stared at his chest for several hard seconds, feeling the warmth slowly fade from his skin when I sucked it all away. My eyes lifted to his once more.

His eyes remained rigid in place, locked in the ironclad stare that he always gave me. It was equally possessive and gentle. His hand had gone still on my waist, and slowly, the heat from his palm started to fade.

“Do you know why?” His stare was as stoic, but a glint deep inside those eyes hinted at something more. I wouldn’t have noticed it when we’d met or in the week that passed after, butnow I knew him well enough to pick up on these slight changes in his mood. I should only know his surface, but at some point, I’d descended beneath his waves and explored his depths.

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