Page 89 of The Call of Crimson
“No,” he laughs, the sound unbothered. “To this day, I have no idea. But he made sure the whole palace knew how long, or rather, how short, it lasted.”
“You’re quick to arrive? Never would’ve guessed that,” I muse.
My foot lands square against his chest, sending him stumbling backward. He trips over his own feet, and I pounce, pinning him by the wrists.
“I’m anything butquick to arrivenow, love,” he purrs, looking altogether too pleased. “Would you like to find out just how long I can last?”
“Hmmm,” I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin.. “No. Better save the disappointment for our wedding night.”
“Such a cruel female,” Ayden mutters, grinning despite himself. “Alright, you’ve won this one.”
I release him, climbing to my feet with a satisfied hum. “Would you like me to kick your ass again, Your Highness?”
“I wouldn’t mind another,” he says with a lazy shrug, pushing himself upright.
We spar again, harder this time. I land several solid hits, but by the end, we’re both panting, our movements slowing.
“What was your favorite game as a child?” he asks, dodging a sloppy jab.
“Hide and seek,” I reply, landing a hit to his shoulder.
“You would favor the goddess of war and strategy, wouldn’t you?”
I shrug. “My parents used to say they should have named me after Kraenta.”
He catches me off guard with a fist to my cheek. I hiss, heat flaring under my skin.
Despite the throbbing, it’s obvious he pulled that punch.
Ayden freezes instantly, guilt flashing across his face. “Are you alright?”
I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, tasting blood, and scowl. “Afraid to hit a female, Prince?”
“I’m not taking it easy on you, Princess,” he insists, his voice hardening.
I drop my stance, folding my arms. “You pulled your punch just now.”
He mirrors me, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not leaving my fiancée with a black eye.”
“It wouldn’t be my first.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll ever be responsible for giving you one.” His tone is flat, final.
Part of me knows I should appreciate the care in his words, but it just pisses me off. I don’t want to be protected. I want to be respected.
My fists clench, nails biting into my palms.
“What’s the matter?” It’s meant as a taunt, but bitterness leaks into my voice. “Afraid to leave a mark on a female?”
Ayden smirks, his eyes darkening.
Slowly, he backs me toward the wall. Bracing one arm beside my head, he leans in close and whispers, “I much prefer to leave my marks by other means.”
His scent, woodsy citrus, and the faint salt of sweat wrap around me. I feel it like a physical touch, shivering down my spine.
Annoyed at my body’s reaction, I bark a laugh and knee him in the groin. “No thanks, minute-male.”
Ayden doubles over with a grunt. “Fucking dirty, Princess.”
