Page 88 of Of Kings and Thieves

A dark chuckle. For now. But when I have you again, I plan to wring so many orgasms from your sweet body that you won’t remember your own name.

I licked my lips, imagining the exquisite torture he’d inflict. I can’t wait.

Insatiable siren, he growled fondly. Your turn. Tell me what those sinful lips of yours would do to my cock.

Heat pooled between my legs again as I pictured him before me, hard and ready. I’d start by kissing the tip, flicking my tongue over that sensitive spot under the head. Then I’d slide you into my mouth, inch by inch, until you hit the back of my throat. I moaned softly. I’d suck you deep, my tongue swirling around your length, while my hands caressed your sac.

A sharp intake of breath came through our bond. I could sense Col’s arousal mounting, feel the tension coiling in his body, much as it was in mine.

Fuck, he bit out. Don’t stop.

Emboldened, I continued in a sultry tone, You’d slide and out of my mouth until my lips became swollen, and then you would grab my hair and fuck my mouth like you’ve always wanted. But I would make you hold back. I’d bring you to the edge again and again, denying your release, until you were mad with need. Begging me to let you come. Only when I’d had my fill of tormenting you would I finally give in, sucking hard as I stroked you. I want to taste you, Col, feel you spill down my throat.

With a shout, Col found his peak, and I smiled in feminine satisfaction at undoing him so completely. No barriers existed between us now, and I shared in his climax as if it were my own. It was my own. The wave was more intense than the first one, and I fingered myself while I rode it, drawing out the pleasure until it was completely wrung from my body.

After a long moment, he spoke again, voice raspy. You’ll pay for that, someday. But damn if it wasn’t worth it.

My laughter blended with his. I look forward to your punishment, my king.

Our laughter faded, and a bone-deep contentment settled over us. For a brief time, we could forget our troubles and simply exist together. No forces worked to tear us apart. No responsibilities weighed upon our shoulders.

It was bliss.

I sighed, basking in the warmth of Col’s presence and the lingering effects of my release. I wish—

A loud bang at my door interrupted me. I jolted upright, panic and dread warring within me as I scrambled to make myself presentable. Before I could warn Col, another bang shook his door.

Damn them, Col snarled. It’s too early for a banquet.

I wondered what fresh torture The Harrow and his pet had planned today.

I swallowed hard, scrambling from my bed to hide the ring, barely getting it concealed before the door opened and the guards came to take me to get dressed.

* * *

A crowd gathered in the great hall, which no longer contained banquet tables. The smells of last night’s feast were gone, replaced by the tang of sweat and parchment and the unique scents of the nobles.

Fingers dug into my arms, dragging me deeper into the beast’s belly. The Harrow’s thugs were as impatient as ever, their impatience etched in painful grooves on my skin. With a rough shove, they propelled me toward the dais and the black iron throne. No table remained, only the severe elegance of Iron Deep’s royal seat.

Col sat flanked by The Harrow and Moredanea, their presences oozing malice. My gut twisted itself into knots. Without the ruby ring, I had no way of asking Col what he had learned, if anything.

His dark hair and strong features still sent a flutter through me, even lined with exhaustion as they were. I ached to trace those lines, to offer what strength I could to Col, my Andris, exiled prince and now king. He kept his hazel eyes on The Harrow, his face an unreadable mask.

The Harrow’s icy voice cut through the hall, stilling all motion. “You are to sign a decree. Order your men to march through Iron Deep, crush resistance, and destroy all who defy me.”

A chill raced down my spine. I knew the horrors The Harrow’s soldiers could inflict. The same would befall Iron Deep if he wasn’t stopped. I trembled, fury and fear twisting inside me.

“Bring the scroll,” The Harrow commanded, his serpent’s gaze on Col. A nobleman scurried forward with parchment and a quill.

I scanned the crowd, reading their reactions. Some faces stayed stoic, others betrayed their fear. Were any of them ready to stand with Col against The Harrow? To cast off their terror and join the uprising? I searched each face, hungry for any spark of rebellion, any glimmer of hope in that sea of dread.

“Well, boy?” The Harrow sneered. “Your people await your word.”

“If it please Your Highness,” the courtier said, voice quaking as he offered the quill.

“It would please the kingdom,” The Harrow corrected.

Col held his fiery gaze. “Would it?” His voice was strong and steady.

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