Page 68 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood
“I did some asking around. This cottage is used seasonally by hunters.” He gives me a bashful shrug. “It’s no castle. I can try to look for something nicer or an inn if you’d like to ride farther.”
My thighs tense at the thought of riding any more. “This is great. Let’s get inside.”
We tie the horse to the largest of the nearby oaks. There’s no barn, but the sprawling branches provide ample coverage should another storm approach. Cassius pulls several carrots from one of the bags. He leaves them at the horse’s feet, giving the beautiful creature a pat before guiding us inside.
It isn’t a castle, that’s for sure. I can tell by the lack of décor and general untidiness that a woman has never stepped foot in this cottage. Still, it has a cozy feel. Looking out the windows, I can see nothing but trees. “It’s perfect.”
Cassius lays the items he’s packed on the table. “There are already some supplies here. Someone must have stopped by recently.”
The last bag of food he opens is full of apples. Something cracks in my chest. Pain and grief threaten to flood my ribcage, drowning me in emotions that are too cataclysmic to navigate.
I slam the door on my feelings, imprisoning them deep below. I don’t want to be sad right now. Numbness starts in my chest, spreading outward. A chill moves with it, leeching my body of feelings and warmth.
A muted version of panic flaps inside me when I realize I can’t feel anything. I wanted to shut down the hurt but somehowI’ve gotten rid of everything. Reaching within, I search for the fond memories from earlier.
They’re gone. I reach for the hostility and rage I felt when I saw Harrow in the maze.
It’s vanished. Finally, I seek out the suffering I felt in being unable to bring my mother back. Nothing.
I feel nothing.Nothing.
How did it happen so fast? I locked my emotions away too tight. I yank at the chains in my chest, pounding on the door of my heart, my hurt. All of it is gone.
“I didn’t bring much by way of entertainment. If we grab some wood, I might be able to make a board.” Cassius’s voice drifts into my ears like an echo. I’m aware of him slicing bread. Filling a pot with liquid and herbs. “I started preparing this earlier today. The castle cooks were kind enough to give me the space to work. It shouldn’t take long to finish.” He speaks out loud, continuing his work as I slink in the shadows behind him.
Somehow, feeling numb is more unbearable than being miserable and grief-stricken. I tear at my fingertips, peeling the skin in a frantic race for some kind of control over the situation. Pain sizzles up beneath the freshly ripped skin. Blood wells and raw, red flesh is revealed beneath.
At least I can still feel something. Even if it’s only pain.
“If the sky stays clear we could go for a walk in the woods.” Cassius is busying himself with our goods.
The throbbing in my fingers builds as I peel my skin deeper. Is that all I’ve been reduced to? Physical pain? Running my fingertips along the length of my arm, I watch as goosebumps rise to meet the trail I’ve left behind. Another sensation. So it’s more than pain. I can still feel other things physically.
The urge to fill my emptiness, to pour anything into that hollowness within becomes a manic obsession. I need touch. I need pain. My gaze moves to the handsome, oblivious princehumming in the kitchen. Memories of his lips against mine surface. They don’t elicit any kind of emotional response, but the barest hint of a flutter forms deep in my abdomen.
I need him to touch me. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s only physical.
Cassius doesn’t notice me watching him. He doesn’t see me breathe deeply as I decide to make my move. He turns to find me right behind him. I don’t halt even for a moment. If I do, I may rethink this whole thing.
My mouth finds his in a rough, hungry kiss. His hands drop to my hips without hesitation.
Men are so easily seduced. They preach about protecting honor but if you press your mouth to theirs or rub your hand along their trousers, they’ll always give in. We’re told not to be easy. That men enjoy the chase. When the roles are reversed there is no chase. I should be grateful I don’t have to work harder to get what I need.
Lips slide along mine, tongues dipping between. I keep waiting for the spark of excitement, the thrill of the first time with someone new. Instead, my rib cage remains empty. I listen inward. A simple melody of crashing waves against stone. Empty, driftwood beneath seafoam, sinking.
My still-stinging fingers fumble with the buttons on his pants. “Take these off.”
“Princess”—his hand covers mine—“are you certain about this?”
His hesitation barely registers. “I need you to make me forget.”
Reaching a hand in his pants, I grip his length, already stiff. He’s big. I knew he would be. Men with small dicks don’t walk around with the type of swaggering confidence and unfaltering self-assurance that Cassius has.
He’s a puddle in my hands as I squeeze his shaft. “Touch me. Please.”
Without any more protests, he strips bare. His body is immaculate. Tanned, toned, with auburn curls across his broad chest. He looks like a literal sun god. I’m about to have my way with one of the most gorgeous humans to exist. Why doesn’t that spark any thrill? Fair skin and snowy hair creep across my vision. Even my feelings for Harrow are shut off. I would be happy with guilt at this point. My relationship with Harrow has become something real. What will he think when he finds out I gave myself to Cassius?
The question rattles against the hollow chamber in my chest. No shame. No joy. No fear for the future. No cares for the past. Fucking nothing.
