Page 58 of The Call of Crimson
A low growl erupts from him, and he slams his lips back into mine. The kiss is rough but brief. When he pulls back, he whispers, “You little shit.”
I slide off him, and he pulls me down to his side so my head rests on his chest. Nuzzling my head into him, I breathe in deeply, savoring the smell of sweat mixed with his cinnamon and chocolate scent.
Something settles deep inside me as exhaustion washes over me. I yawn, snuggling closer to Elijah.
“You sleepy, goddess?”
“Extremely,” I confirm, my eyes drifting shut.
He chuckles, the sound pure masculine satisfaction. “Anadequatefuck will do that for you.”
I yawn again. “I lied.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You’re way more than adequate. Let’s do that again tomorrow.”
His arm tightens around me, his voice a satisfied purr. “As you wish, goddess.”
I drift off moments later, the sound of Elijah’s heartbeat lulling me into a peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AURELIUS
Ihardly rested in the night, kept so far from the spitfire who haunts my dreams.
Breyla spent months sleeping next door to me or even in my bed. Now, she was half a castle away, sleeping across the hall from Prince Ayden.
It’s better thaninhis bed, I suppose.
Once the castle quieted, I gave in to the primal need to lay eyes on her.
Being the royal bastard afforded me some liberties, with apparently one of them being the ability to move throughout the castle with little resistance from the guards. I had no doubt my movements would be reported to Ayden, but I didn’t give a fuck. I needed to see her.
My room was the same as I always occupied on visits to Prudia—in the guest wing, far away from the royal family.
It could be worse; they could have housed me with the staff.
When I reached the royal wing, I was filled with relief to find Breyla’s stubbornness had won out. She was sleeping in a separate room from Ayden.
The relief was minuscule, though. Not having her near me is torture. Hence, the two miserable hours of sleep I managed to find before the sun dragged its pale light across the sky.
Morning light spills through the window now, catching the subtle gold accents that adorn the room.
A light wood bed frame and black linen sheets made up the bed I had tossed and turned in all night. A black carpet covers the white tiled floor. A modest desk and armoire, complete with gold handles, stand in the corner. On the nightstand sat a golden candlestick, cooled wax spilling onto the wood below. The bathroom held the necessities but nothing more. That was what made up the space I was to call home.
I had never minded it before, but I hate it now.
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts. When I open the door, I’m greeted by the honey-colored eyes of Rowina, my half-sister, apparently.
“Good morning,” she chirps.
“Morning,” I grunt, thegoodpart yet to be determined.
“Mother has requested a formal family breakfast today.”
“This ought to be interesting.”
