Page 62 of The Call of Crimson
“You probably just need to get further away from him. He’s strong, but there is a limit to his reach.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” He nods, messy brown curls shaking free and falling across his brow. “It feels like I lost all rationality when he redirected blood flow to my cock.”
“He has that effect on people,” I murmur. “Perhaps you shouldn’t antagonize him as you do.”
“And how exactly did I antagonize him this morning?”
I level him with a knowing look. “Let’s not play dumb with one another.”
“I blame the erection.”
“You had your hands all over me and were planning our wedding in front of him.”
“And? You’re my betrothed, Breyla. That’s what we’resupposedto discuss.”
“I’m only your betrothed because my father was obviously out of his mind before his death,” I growl. My grip on his dagger tightens, the metal kissing his skin. “I want peace for Rimor. The only reason I’m here is because we can’t risk war against Prudia over a broken marriage contract.”
The admission of weakness makes bile rise in my throat. It burns, acidic and humiliating.
Despite the blade against his throat, Ayden lifts his hand, brushing my cheek with a gentleness I wasn’t prepared for.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Breyla,” he says softly. “Or your kingdom.”
“There you go doing it again.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Doing what again?”
“Being genuine with me.”
He smiles faintly. “Can you detect intention as well?”
“No,” I reply. “But I’m very good at detecting bullshit.”
Ayden shakes his head. “Such a beautiful mouth you have.”
I shrug, unapologetic.
Confident now that I won't slit his throat, Ayden pushes off the wall, reclaiming his dagger from my hand.
“Come on, love. I’m taking you to the library.”
I don’t move.
Pressing the second dagger, the one he hadn’t seen me draw, against his groin, I smile sweetly. “One last thing, Ayden.”
“Yes, Princess?” he asks, voice suddenly careful.
“I decide who I share my body with. If you ever try that shit again, I’ll castrate you.”
His eyes widen as he glances down and sees the blade pressed lightly but unmistakably against him.
“This shouldn’t be arousing,” he says breathlessly.
Backing away from him, I roll my eyes. “What is wrong with you two?”
“You have no idea, love.” He chuckles darkly, sheathing his dagger. “My mother once drunkenly confessed the story of Rowina’s conception. She was furious with Father for something, and he tried to manipulate her feelings to calm her down. So she stabbed him in the thigh. Apparently, he found her fire more enticing than frightening. Despite the open wound, he took her right there on the floor.”
“I didn’t need to know that.” I stare at him, appalled and amused in equal measure. “But that actually explains so much.”
