Page 89 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
His fingers swept through the air like a paintbrush on a canvas. Each stroke changed part of the inn. The glass reappeared in the windows, crystal clear and freshly cleaned. The door straightened and the rottingholes disappeared. The musty smell of decay faded into something sweet and floral.
He opened the door for me as magic rolled over the room. Debris cleared from the floors. The broken counter snapped back into an upright position. The only thing missing was a cheerful innkeeper to greet us. The sagging ceiling tightened up and the water stains all shrank before fading away completely.
The stairs to the rooms had cracked and shifted to accommodate a dozen little saplings. The trees shrank, disappearing into the slats, and the stairs rearranged themselves into perfect order. Lights came to life along the walls to fill the inn in warmth and comfort.
I gaped as I stepped inside, testing the floorboards. They held firm under my feet. Even the rug had been dusted and cleaned so that the bright blues, reds, and purples popped. I flinched as I walked onto it, leaving muddy, black footprints behind.
“This is an amazing glamour,” I said as I turned in a circle to take in the full room. Every invading plant had been cast out, every speck of dust cleaned, and every broken piece of furniture repaired. Like the curse had never touched this place.
“It’s not a glamour,” Wilde said as he followed me. “It’s more like … a bubble.”
“A pocket dimension?”
He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just admitted to magic beyond most mage’s capabilities. And he was still an apprentice.
Unease twisted my stomach. Why the fuck was he working with the old man? The Lord of Grimnight was incompetent. He couldn’t hold one kingdom for a lifetime, let alone five. But Wilde … Wilde could rule the world.
“Does it meet your standards now, Your Highness?” His dark eyes glimmered as he picked up my hand and brought it to his lips. He didn’t kiss it—one taste of ink was enough to learn his lesson—but his hot breath brushed across my knuckles.
The false title made my heart twinge, reminding me of every lie that had brought us here. “You don’t have to call me that.”
“Why not? It’s so much more satisfying to bring a prince to his knees.”
“I’m not on my knees,” I reminded him, stomping one foot as proof.
“Yet.” He dropped my hand and rubbed his ink-stained fingers together. “Let’s clean you up first. I want to tasteyou,not whatever miserable monster you’ve slain.”
You smooth motherfucker.Every word Wilde said, every spell he cast for my safety or comfort, made me wish this was real. That he was a normal apprentice, and I was a normal prince, and we’d fallen in love during a quest to defeat evil.
He started up the stairs but stopped when I didn’t move from the doorway.
Swallowing the volatile mix of emotions, I gestured to the building he’d revived. “I’d hate to mess this all up.”
His lips quirked and his eyes crinkled with mischief. “Would you prefer to bathe in the front room? I had no idea you were an exhibitionist.”
What the fuck is he—oh shit, the others.If they followed us and found the inn, the first thing they would see when they walked in would be my naked ass. Possibly Wilde’s too, if he decided to join me. I could already hear Delilah dramatically screaming “My eyes!”
“Upstairs is fine,” I choked and hurried over to him.
“Honestly, I’m open to it,” he assured me as he followed me up. “I’d especially like to see the expression on the big brute’s face when he sees you worshipping my cock.”
“I’m not going toworshipanything!”
His smug silence followed me up the stairs.
All the doors in the hallway were closed except the last one. I hurried through it and only stopped when I saw the interior. An enormous canopy bed with matching red drapes and silk sheets. A cozy fire warming the fireplace. A wardrobe near the bed. A rolltop desk with ink and parchment already set out. And off to the left, a huge, clawfoot tub.
My pack wasn’t as covered in ink as the rest of me, but I still didn’t want to stain the plush carpet, so I set it on the desk’s chair where it would be out of the way.
Wilde followed me into the room and closed the door. He leaned against it lazily and looked me up and down, slowly, his eyes caressing me. “Strip.”
The filthy, sticky clothes clung to my skin, itchy and uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was discard everything and climb into the bath. But now that he’dtoldme to, of course it couldn’t be that easy. “Make me.”
One pale eyebrow arched at the challenge. He pushed off the door and prowled toward me, a hunter stalking his prey. He stopped a few inches away and looked up at me through his lashes. “If you need help undressing, there are better ways to ask for it.” He touched my sides, just under my ribs, and dragged his hands down the ruined fabric of my jacket. The heat of his skin seeped through my clothes, burning hot with building desire.
When he reached my waistband, I tensed, hoping he might travel lower. Instead, he released the last jacket button from its hole and slowly worked his way back up. His other hand slipped between the layers, stroking up my side until he reached my shoulder and gently nudged the jacket off.
Undressing myself would have been so much easier than this slow torture.
