Page 91 of The Call of Crimson
Aurelius.
“Whoa there, Princess.” His hands close around my shoulders, steadying me before I topple over. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
The warmth of his hands feels good against my rapidly cooling skin. The sweat has dried, leaving me chilled thanks to the season’s dropping temperature.
“I’m trying to avoid making questionable decisions,” I mutter, my flesh pebbling beneath his touch, and I’m reminded of a sobering truth. “You happen to fall in that category as well, so if you’ll excuse me.”
I tug my shoulders free, moving to pass him. Before I can escape, his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against his body, pinning me to the nearest wall.
I suck in a ragged breath.
Aurelius presses into me, his body a living furnace.
“Aurelius, please.” I pray my restraint holds out, because right now I really want to keep savoring him.
His nose brushes my neck as he inhales deeply—and then he growls, low and furious. “You smell likehim.”
“You mean I smell like mybetrothed,” I correct, coldly.
He rears back enough for me to see the anger flashing in his eyes. “Why?”
“We sparred,” I say simply, even though I owe him no explanation.
Dark eyes roam my body, searching for injuries. They land on my face, the swelling more prominent, a steady pulse beating in my cheek. He brushes his thumb over my split lip, then the mark just below my eye. “He marked you,” Aurelius accuses, voice rough. “Hurt you.”
“That is a typical hazard of sparring, Aurelius. Besides–” I lift my chin. “I got him far worse for pulling his punches.”
His nostrils flare, fingers tightening around my throat. Not choking, just claiming. “I do not like his marks on your skin.”
“What?” I shake my head. “It’s only acceptable when it’s you leaving them?”
His wicked smile sends a shiver through me. “My marks are different, little demon, and you know it.”
His thigh presses between my legs, grinding slowly and deliberately against my core.
I gasp, clutching his tunic, my restraint slipping.
“Your marks mean nothing, Aurelius,” I whisper, even as my body betrays me.
Aurelius’ lips graze my ear. “Is that so? If they truly mean nothing, then perhaps I leave one—" His thumb strokes over the pulse at my throat. “—and we’ll see just how meaningless your betrothed finds it?”
My heartbeat quickens. Heat pools in my core, thighs tightening instinctively around his leg as he rolls his hips ever so slightly. Chest heaving, I struggle to remember why this is a bad idea.
I hate him for knowing how to unravel me so easily.
Ice douses the heat between us by the sound of clicking heels a few feet away. Aurelius steps back just as a maid rounds the corner. She’s one of Queen Josephina’s. She nearly collides with him, cheeks pink as she drops into a quick curtsy.
There’s nothing overtly damning about our position, but anyone with half a brain could sense the tension between us.
“Pardon me, My Prince,” the maid says sweetly. “I did not see you there.”
“That’s quite all right, Nell. No harm done,” Aurelius replies smoothly, straightening his tunic and patting her shoulder with calculated casualness.
She lingers, casting curious glances between us.
I clear my throat. “Is there something you need from one of us?”
Nell looks sheepishly at the floor. “I was fetching something for the queen, but I can’t remember what it is now.” She shuffles her feet. “I’ll just be on my way.”
