Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Prince Xaren is turned on his side in the center of the bed, his breathing deep and regular. He must be asleep—I hope he won’t be angry when I wake him.
As quietly as possible, I slide under the covers. My plan is to cozy up to him, pressing my front to his broad back. When he turns over, I’ll offer myself. Hopefully I won’t have to say much and we can get this over with quickly. If only he—
Suddenly there’s an explosion of movement and a big hand is clamped around my throat. A dark face is looming over me as I choke and struggle—lit by one fiery eye that glows golden in the dimness.
“Who the fuck are you and what do you think you’re doing in my bed?”
His voice is a low, menacing growl and his expression is hard with anger.
I try to answer—I really do—but the only thing I can get out are low, choking sounds. His big hand is wrapped around my throat and I can’t breathe…can’t breathe.
Just as bright spots of color start dancing in front of my eyes, Xaren seems to realize it’s me.
“What the fuck?” he growls and releases me abruptly.
I cough weakly, trying to refill my lungs with air. Xaren looks down at me with an unreadable expression on his face.
“I asked you a question—what the fuck are you doing in my bed, little dove?” he asks.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out at last. “I…I was sent here by…by your mother, the Queen.”
“You were?” His eyebrows raise for a moment. “Why the fuck would she send you to me?”
“Because Prince Dorian didn’t…didn’t want me.” It’s hard to get the words out. I still feel ashamed that the Crown Prince wanted nothing to do with me even though I now understand why.
“I would ask why not, but I know well enough.” He sighs and shakes his head. “They should have just let him marry Henri.”
“Please…your mother says…she says I’m married to you, too,” I say in a small, shaky voice. I’m still just lying there, my arms crossed over my chest and my thighs pressed tight together. I feel so small with him looming over me. I know I’m supposed to be offering myself, but I can’t seem to do it.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true—because of our fucked-up traditions, you’re married to both of us.” He sounds angry about it.
“I didn’t know until she told me,” I admit. “She…she says you must…must take me and get me…get me pregnant.” I can barely get the words out. “Since Prince Dorian won’t.”
This seems to make him even angrier.
“So she sent you down here so I could rape you—is that it?”
“What? No!” I shake my head, trying to push the ugly idea away. “It…it won’t be rape. I’m here willingly, my Lord Prince,” I add humbly.
As I speak, I force myself to open my arms and legs, baring myself for him. The tight tips of my nipples poke out through the open weave of the lace and by blind luck, the slit at the bottom of the gown has positioned itself right over my pussy. I’m fully on display, my body clear to see through the insubstantial gown.
“See?” I ask in the same, trembling voice, forcing the words out. “I…I want you. Take me, my Lord Prince.”
But my show of offering myself doesn’t seem to fool Prince Xaren—it only makes him angry.
“Bullshit! You’re not here willingly,” he growls, glaring fiercely down at me. “You’re here because you fear my mother—just like everyone in the Citadel.”
“No…” I shake my head. “I just…I need you…I mean, I want you to get me pregnant.”
“So she won’t toss you away or worse, is that it?” he demands.
“No,” I say, though the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “No, I…I want to be here.”
My words seem to send the Dark Prince into a rage.
“Don’t lie to me.” He bites off each word. “You’re not here because you want me. And even if you do, this will change your mind.” He lifts his face and roars, “Flame high!”
The pale blue witch flame suddenly flares up, filling his bedroom with a stark, brilliant light. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes. Xaren is still staring down at me. When I can focus again, he shoves his fingers through the long hair on the left side of his face and rakes it back.
“Look at me—look!” he snarls, leaning close.
I gasp and shrink back against the pillows—he’s so close to me I can smell his dark spice. Running along the left side of his face is a long, jagged scar. It looks like someone took a knife and cut from just above his eyebrow, down through his eye, across his cheek and all the way to his jaw.
It’s an ugly scar but what makes it worse is the golden, fiery eye staring at me, casting his whole face in a baleful light. That eye…it’s isn’t human. And…are those black scales around the edges of the scar? It almost looks like something is coming out of him—like the beast inside is trying to get out…to take over.