Page 46 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
Rolling from my bed in a very unladylike manner that sends my feet over my head, I pad to the doorway, stopping to drag a hand through my unkempt hair and pinch my cheeks.
Pulling the door wide, I find a very serious-looking Cassius on the other side. He turns, gaze locking on mine, and the stoicism in his face vanishes. “Good evening, Princess.”
Cassius is dressed in another of his brilliantly crafted royal garbs. The fabrics are a deep burnt orange and rich cherry red that complement his coppery skin and hair. He looks like autumn, wrapped up in human form. Those same beautiful, fiery jewels hang across his chest. I hadn’t realized before just how similar his eyes are to those brilliant gems.
“Good evening to you. What’s going on?”
“Prince Cassius has volunteered to watch over you until morning.” Gestin’s salt-and-pepper brows furrow. I get the feeling he’s not thrilled with the arrangement.
“That’s very kind of you. And unnecessary.” A prince lowering himself to guard duties? It’s practically unheard of.
“On the contrary”—Cassius’s smile drops—“someone killed King Hoff and could have easily taken your life in the same moment. Until we have a better idea of who committed this heinous act and have locked them away in the dungeons, caution is key. Your safety is top priority.”
“I’m fine here.”
“He’s right, Princess,” Gestin adds. “There’s a good chance that toast was meant to kill the both of you. It’s by sheer luck and your endless stubbornness that you didn’t drink from your chalice.”
“It would also save me from attending the evening festivities,” Cassius admits. “I could use a break from being paraded like a prized pony.” He shakes his head.
“Well, I suppose if it won’t interfere too much with your social agenda, I’ll allow it.” I give him a light smile. It’s not up to me, of course. “Though I hear the other mothers have been in a frenzy trying to get their daughters an audience with thehandsome foreign prince.”
Cassius’s broad shoulders sag. “They’ve been relentless. You would be doing me a great favor by allowing me to hide up here all evening.”
A giggle slips free. “Done. I, too, prefer hiding from prying eyes. I’ll be in here if you need me. Enjoy your quiet evening.” I nod to them both before closing my door.
Giddiness zaps through my blood. Cassius is outside my bedroom door. From the looks of it, he’s alone. There are guards at the ends of the hallways, but the only person close enough to hear, or touch, is him.
I’m not sure what to do with this information, but I can’t seem to hide the grin that’s spreading across my cheeks.
The rising moon signals another night locked away in my room. At least there’s a handsome prince in the hallway. Boredom clicks along the inside of my skull like an unwanted insect, constantly reminding me that I’m fate’s tragic muse trapped in a perfect, pristine prison. I am not meant to have my wings clipped. The giddiness of Cassius taking over my watch faded quickly. It doesn’t change things. It’s still me, alone, in my room. Any more days in here and the chances of me bashing my head through my sunset-stained window will become too high to ignore.
I sit on my windowsill, having ditched my overly tight corset in favor of a viridian dressing gown. Cream lace details have been sewn at the wrists and up in the high collar. This was meant to be one of the outfits I wore for my new husband. Now—dead husband. The elegant night attire ties at the waist, shielding the emerald slip dress beneath. It’s a stunning outfit. What a waste it would have been to wear it for that old man.
I would rather have worn it for another. Severalothersin fact.
My teethclick click clickas I bite a loose piece of skin free from the inner corner of my right index finger. I work it with my teeth until blood soaks the skin and makes it too slippery to grab on to the same piece. I move on to the next finger, still unsatisfied. Smooth, perfect skin. Is that too much to ask for? The sting of each new self-inflicted wound has become almost comforting. The pain is also a good distraction from my endless loop of thoughts.
Harrow hasn’t come to me since the labyrinth. Even the feathers have stopped appearing on my pillow. Surely that wasn’t the last time I would get to see him. My stomach pits at the thought of him never coming back.
The sinking feeling twists, becoming something heavy and tight as I think about our last moments together.
A monster.He was a literal monster. And I let that monster…
My cheeks burn.
It’s not even that he touched melike that. It’s that I’ve never felt anything like it and haven’t stopped thinking about it since. When he released that first orgasm from my all-too-eager body, he awakened something deep within me. Something dark, hungry. An emptiness now sits, teeth snapping, hidden mouth wide, in all those places his shadows filled. My darkness calls to his darkness, recognizing our similarities.
I’m not the same person after what happened in the labyrinth. It wasn’t the monster or the chase in the maze. I changed the moment Harrow and I kissed in the ballroom.
Thinking about that kiss has me realizing just how lonely I am. There are dozens of people working, living, or socializing in the castle at any given time and still, I’m so terribly lonely.
Emotionally, I want someone to laugh with and confide in. Physically, I want someone to sweep me off my feet and worship my body like it’s their own personal temple.
Who do I want more in this moment? Harrow or Cassius? I shouldn’t have to choose. I want both and I want them to want me. I look out into the night. Where is my winged man? For the briefest moment I see him. He steps free from the darkness, that ethereal face beaming up at me. As quickly as he appears to me, he vanishes. The sexual tension in my body and frustration in my heart collide. I’ll get his attention and if he refuses to give me what I need, I’ll find it where I’m able.
I lie back. My hands roam between my thighs as I lean into the fantasy of the two of them. The dark angel outside my window, and the prince beyond my door.
The idea of both men in my room, skin bare, has me panting at the first touch of my fingers against my arousal-dampened skin. The bronze of Cassius’s sun-kissed skin contrasting against the snow-white of Harrow’s lean form would be too beautiful to look away from. My fingers swirl against my clit at the thought of the two of them taking turns delivering me pleasure until I can’t take any more.
