Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Very clever,” he growled. “It took me an entire five extra minutes to find you.”
I dipped down in the bath, letting the water rise to the top of my mouth. Was it five minutes? It both felt like seconds and an eternity that I waited in my steamy, overly luxurious bath.
“Not clever enough,” I said, rising back up. “I thought filling the water with every scented oil, and the room with every scented candle would be enough to block your cheat— Oh pardon me, I meant you’re marking.”
Alisdair grinned at my scolding. “It was enough, little bird, hence you earning my compliment. I couldn’t smell my mark at all—”
“But then how—?”
“What I did smell was the thick, cloying scent of a bath that was all scented oil.” He tapped his nose, tsking my shame. “Let that be your third lesson of the day. You cannot hide what belongs to me behind what doesn’t belong.”
“Hmm,” I raised my chin, rising fully in the water. “A good lesson, but not one I’ll need to know past tonight.”
Alisdair ripped off his robe and threw the tatters into a corner. Sweet talk was over. “Come to me, Princess,” he said, palming his smooth, already-erect cock. “I regret that there is no hairy cat mole—”
My face caught fire.
“—but it will fuck you all the same.” He pointed down. “On your knees. Head down. Ass up.”
Oh, yes, the sweet talk is very much over.
“Hold that thought, and look.” I raised my hands, gesturing to the newest addition to the baths. “I got something in the village today. Something that’s going to make things much clearer.”
Scowling, he trained his gaze up. “A painting of you? Are you giving it to me as a... present?” The word sounded foreign on his tongue. “I don’t want it. Get out.”
Kakka. I strained to keep my tone neutral. “It’s not a present. Just look at it, then look at me.”
I pointed to the lovely, radiant picture of Princess Emiana of Lyrica, then pointed to myself, shook my head hard, then repeat.
The curse wouldn’t let me speak my true name. It wouldn’t let me write it down. It wouldn’t let me give clues to my identity. I couldn’t even describe my true face to the artist I met in the market square. But a painting of Emiana... that was easily done.
I thought of a million ways to get through to him that I’m not the princess, and he was teaching a poor peasant to rule his kingdom. In the end, simple was best.
His eyes narrowed to slits, the line down his brow growing more pronounced.
“Yes, yes,” I cried. He’s getting it. He understands! “Take me home. I have to go back—”
“Argh!” He jumped in the water, splashing half the bath in my shrieking mouth. “Enough of your presents and pantomime games. My tiny little fella failed to satisfy you last night.”
The face of evil. It was before me.
“Seven orgasms weren’t enough. Fucking you until you blacked out—twice.” He tangled in my hair, ever so slowly drawing my head back. Alisdair was daring me to stop him, and loving that I wasn’t. “Not enough.
“Clearly I have to redouble my efforts.” He licked a stripe up my chin. “I’m going to fuck you until all the water’s left this bath.”
“What does that mean?” I cried. “The bath doesn’t drain!”
But I knew what he meant. I knew all too well.
Our promise was that if he caught me, he was free to ravage me within an inch of my life, and I was the silly mare who didn’t even run. Despite my ravings that morning, last night was the best sex anyone ever had, and I didn’t need the samplings of other men to know it. Alisdair found every one of my body’s treasure troves and plundered it for gold.
I rocked back against the rim, brought my feet up, and kicked in his chest.
That doesn’t mean I’m making it easy for him.
He stumbled back and I shot past him—kicking and slapping at the water. I never did learn how to swim.
Claws clamped around my ankle and dragged me under.
The world disappeared in a soundless kaleidoscope of color. Hands grabbed mine. Threading our fingers together, he pinned my palms to the bottom of the water basin. No hesitation. No preparation. Alisdair buried inside me with one hard thrust.
My cry was bubbles in the water, floating to the surface to escape. I would not be joining them.
Alisdair started pumping, setting a furious, out-of-control, animal pace. Every breath I tried to hold exploded out of me in an ecstatic scream. Drowning has never been so pleasurable.
Alisdair was a monster. An evil, arrogant, impatient monster who used people as pawns, and crushed them when they ceased being useful. So why, in Meya’s wisdom, did he not fuck like one?
If there was any justice in this world, his true face would be as hideous as his cursed one. His overconfidence would mask his insecurity over having a minuscule penis besieged by a hairy mole twice its size. He’d be selfish in bed, hoarding his own pleasure and leaving his partner bored, unsatisfied, and cold.