Page 26 of Warrior Princess
Brimming with anticipation, I took the envelope from him and anxiously broke the seal. As I unfolded the letter, the familiar, elegant script of my father's handwriting sprawled across the page.
“My father wants to meet,” I announced after scanning the contents, a hopeful smile touching my lips. “He said the poisoning was all a misunderstanding and he knows that now. Marcellus must have convinced him. He wants to meet in the Central Plains.”
Ronan's expression turned thoughtful, and a crease formed between his brows. “Why does he want to meet in the Central Plains? Doesn’t he want you to return home?”
A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Well… he didn’t say that…”
“Are you sure that letter is from King Malik?” Ronan asked, taking the letter from my hands to examine it himself.
I nodded confidently. “It’s his handwriting.”
“He wants to meet in Lomewood in five days’ time. Are you okay with that?” Ronan’s tone was cautious, protective.
“Yes. I can go—”
“No!” he cut in, his voice firm. “Wecan go. I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”
Part of me wanted to insist on my independence and reassure him that I could handle meeting my father alone in neutral territory. But after the harrowing events in Keldara, I understood his concern, and honestly, his support was not unwelcome.
I smiled warmly, touched by his steadfastness. “Of course.Wecan go,” I agreed, feeling a deep, comforting sense of partnership.
Ronan placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before taking my hand. “Let’s get cleaned up and rest for a bit. It’s been a trying few days.”
Silas dipped his head before leaving, promising to notify us if he heard anything else.
After soakingin a warm bath and slipping into fresh clothes, I restlessly wandered around Ronan's bedroom. The comforting scent of the cedar walls mingled with the faint smell of lavender from the linens, creating a soothing atmosphere that felt worlds away from the turmoil we had just escaped. Despite this tranquility, a persistent self-consciousness nagged at me. I habitually covered the scar on my neck—a harsh reminder of what Chief Aryan did almost two weeks ago. Normally, I kept it concealed beneath a scarf, but here, in the privacy of Ronan's quarters, I allowed myself the freedom to leave it exposed.
Exhausted yet relieved, I fell onto Ronan’s bed, the mattress yielding softly under my weight, and sprawled out, sinking into the pillows and releasing a relieved sigh. For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to relax. The immediate threats were behind us—the Crimson Clan was free and my father's misunderstanding about Ronan was cleared up. Theonly lingering concern was Caelan, whose silence since my departure from Valoria was unnervingly out of character. I could only hope and pray that Marcellus had everything under control, including keeping Henry and Selene safe.
“What are you thinking about?” Ronan’s voice broke through my reverie. He stood in the doorway toweling his hair dry, his muscles subtly outlined beneath the fabric of his damp shirt.
“Everything seems… perfect. Like the goddess herself has paved our way. But I’m worried.” I turned over to lie on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows to better see him.
“About Caelan?” Ronan guessed, his jaw tightening at the mention of the Eldwain prince.
“Yes,” I admitted, watching as Ronan moved closer, his presence commanding yet comforting. “His silence worries me.”
Ronan climbed onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress as he sat beside me. He reached out to gently brush a damp lock of hair from my face, his touch tender yet filled with latent strength. “You have nothing to fear, Leila. I’m with you every step of the way,” he reassured me, his voice low and resolute.
I understood his protectiveness, and part of me reveled in the safety it offered. Yet, I knew we both had our vulnerabilities, and I was determined not to be solely dependent on him for my security. “I know you will be.” I believed him; I truly did. But if what happened between me and his father was any indication, Ronan was not invincible, and even he could be bested at times. Another reason I needed to seek out Shiro as soon as possible.
Ronan’s eyes searched mine, looking for unspoken fears. Then, leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. His calloused hands cradled my face, and the fingers threading through my hair with delicate strength sent a thrill through me.
“Do you trust me, Leila?” he whispered against my lips, his warm breath stirring a flutter in my heart.
“I do,” I replied without hesitation, my hand reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “Always.”
His kiss deepened, and the world outside faded into insignificance as we lost ourselves in each other, reaffirming our bond that had been tested by trials but strengthened by unwavering loyalty and love. In that moment, within the safety of Ronan's room, all uncertainties about the future were momentarily forgotten, overshadowed by the profound connection we shared.
Flipping me onto my back, Ronan climbed over me, trailing his hand over my body as he lifted my leg and wrapped it around him. I felt him hardened between my legs and moaned loudly as I raked my nails down his back.
“Ronan,” I whimpered, wanting to feel more, so much more.
He tore at my dress until my breasts were exposed and his mouth found my nipple. He sucked, licked and bit until I screamed his name. Pulling up the skirt of my dress until it was bunched at my waist, he reached a hand toward my entrance. Slipping two fingers in, he groaned and buried his face between my breasts. “Gods, you’re so wet, Leila.” He slid his fingers in and out of me. “You feel so good,” he murmured against my skin. “I don’t think I can hold out.”
Before I knew it, his fingers were gone and he was hurriedly unbuttoning his trousers. When they were halfway down his thighs, his erection was freed and I hungrily reached for it and stroked his throbbing cock.
He moaned even louder. “Leila,” he groaned, “I don’t want to cum. Not yet.”
