Chapter Six

Sunlight flickers through the trees, casting distorted shadows as Troy and I stroll along the path toward a small pond he swears is there. He”s been saying that for the last half hour, but I”m beginning to think he”s gotten us turned around in the dense forest.

Part of me almost hopes he has.

My stomach flutters with nervous energy at the thought of swimming in a pond. I”ve never swam in anything bigger than a pool before. The prospect of swimming in something where I can”t see the bottom is moderately terrifying. Not to mention, fish and frogs and snakes and God only knows what else lives in ponds.

What if they bite? What if they”re enchanted by some strange magic in this place and I end up cursed for another ten years?

It could happen.

”Maybe we should go back to the cabin,” I say, anxiety churning through me.

”No. We”re going to the pond, and you”re going to swim when we get there, Thalia,” he says.

”But—”

”No.”

”I”ve never swam in a pond before, Troy,” I whisper.

His obsidian eyes lock with mine. ”All the more reason for you to do it now, sweet Thalia. I won”t allow anything to happen to you.”

”Maybe you should swim, and I should watch from a safe distance,” I negotiate. ”Like the shore. The shore seems safe.”

”Absolutely not.” His tone leaves no room for argument.

”Has anyone ever told you that you”re a tyrant?” I ask, scowling up at him, not particularly used to being told no. I don”t think I like it. But he says it as if he”s had plenty of practice. It”s probably his favorite word.

Part of me expects him to be amused by my little temper tantrum, but he isn”t. There”s no humor in his laugh and no warmth in his tone. He”s cold and distant when he responds. ”A tyrant? You haven”t seen just how tyrannical I can be, Thalia.”

The flash of self-loathing in his eyes tells me he actually sees himself that way. He truly believes he”s a tyrant.

My chest aches at the realization.

Is he a tyrant? I see flashes of it in him—the cold, commanding man capable of shutting off emotion and making ruthless, devastating decisions. I think maybe that”s part of the darkness lurking in the depths of his obsidian eyes. But I don”t think that”s all of him. There”s more to him, so much more. But he”s buried it for some reason, choosing to believe this is who he is instead.

Why?

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I ask, ”Why do you believe that?”

His expression hardens. ”My father may be king, but I”m the one who rules. I”ve ruled for years. I don”t make decisions from a place of emotion or kindness. I”m not a tolerant man. People do what I say, when I say, or they suffer the consequences. That”s simply the way it is. If they don”t like it, they”re always free to leave. There are other kingdoms.”

I don”t believe what he”s saying. I don”t think he believes it either. He”s convinced himself that he”s a terrible man, but it isn”t true.

A surge of defiance courses through me—determination to prove him wrong.

”Oh, yeah?” I challenge, courage welling up from some pit deep in my stomach. ”Does that include me, Prince Troy?”

He swallows hard, staring at me, his jaw set, his eyes full of determination.

I pace toward him, curious how far he”s willing to take this, how far he”ll let me push him. He remains silent, the tension between us crackling like a livewire.

”Answer me, Troy,” I demand, my heart pounding. ”Am I free to leave if I want to?”

His silence speaks volumes. He wants to tell himself that I”m just like everyone else, that I haven”t touched his heart and made him feel anything, but he can”t.

I stand my ground, tipping my head back to stare up at him, defiance burning in my chest. ”If I didn”t like your rules and wanted to leave right now, would you let me?” I challenge him.

”No,” he growls. His hands curl into fists, something dark and predatory flashing in his eyes. ”You belong to me, Thalia.”

”But this isn”t your kingdom,” I remind him, unwilling to back down from the intensity of his gaze.

”That changes nothing.” He grabs my hands, encircling my wrists as if caging them in shackles. His dark eyes bore into mine, sending sparks of electricity surging through my veins. ”You”re still mine.”

”You mean your prisoner,” I push, refusing to relent.

”I mean mine,” he snarls, his voice low and possessive. In a swift motion, he yanks me forward.

I topple into the hard wall of his chest, gasping in delight.

He wraps one hand around my throat, his grip firm and unyielding. The heat radiating from his body sears me everywhere we touch, igniting fires in my veins. His lips are inches from mine, his breath pelting them. ”You run, and I”ll chase. To the ends of the fucking earth if that”s what I have to do, Thalia.”

There it is. The proof I needed—perhaps the proof he needed. This man is no tyrant. He”s a complicated tangle of ruler and ruled, as caught by the magic raging between us as I am. And as desperate to keep it alive as I am. Perhaps he does rule with an iron fist. But that isn”t all of him. Not by half.

He won”t let me go—not because I”m his captive or because he”s a tyrant, but because he can”t. Because he needs me just as badly as I need him. Because I make him feel alive too.

Desire rages in his eyes, blazing like black suns. I realize then that he wants me to run. He wants to chase me and force me to submit to his control over me. Another of his twisted games.

He crushes his lips to mine in a hard, dominating kiss that sets my entire body on fire. He consumes me, sucking on my tongue, biting my bottom lip. Ruining me for any other kiss.

”Run.” The word is a predatory growl vibrating all the way to my core.

I don”t think. I don”t ask questions. I shove away from his body as hard as I can and flee, racing toward the pond as fast as my legs will carry me. My hair flies out behind me, branches catching in the strands, tugging at my clothing, scratching my arms.

I don”t care. I run.

”When I catch you, you”re mine, Thalia!” he shouts behind me, his voice taunting. I hear him running, too, his steps heavy as they rapidly close the distance between us.

Crap. He”s a lot faster than I am.

”I”m going to do whatever the fuck I want when I get my hands on you. You can”t stop me.”

I sob in response—in ecstasy, in excitement. Even as I race away from him, I think I”m running toward him and the promise of pleasure waiting when he gets his wicked hands on me.

I want it. Whatever he does to me, whatever wicked, filthy things he craves, I want them too.

I spot a small trail, nearly overgrown by the thick underbrush, off to the left. I dash toward it, my heart pounding. My lungs burn. So do my legs.

I”m nearly at the little trail when his rough hand clamps down on my shoulder.

I spin without conscious thought, wrenching away from him and lashing out with my foot. It connects with his thigh.

He throws his head back and laughs—the deep sound bouncing back from the trees. ”Oh, sweetheart,” he practically purrs. ”You really shouldn”t have done that.”

I take off again, sprinting down the narrow path, my heart pumping fire through my veins. I”ve never felt so free, so desired. Out here in the middle of the forest with him chasing him, I feel more at home than I ever did in my own kingdom.

I dodge around trees and crash through the underbrush, my lungs on fire. But I don”t stop running. He”s still behind me, still chasing me.

And God help me, I love every second of it.

I see the clearing ahead, the blue water of the pond stretching from one side to the other. I”m almost there.

His arms close around me from behind, yanking me backward. ”Caught you,” he growls against my ear, dragging me up against a tree. His mouth comes down on mine in a hard kiss.

I bite his lip.

He laughs again, grabbing the hem of my yellow sundress and ripping it up over my head. The cool breeze hits my naked skin, pulling a gasp from my lips.

”I warned you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down my belly. My muscles clench beneath his palm, arousal flooding between my legs.

”Troy!” I shout, my head flying back as he thrusts two fingers inside me.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

”You”re mine now, sweet little Thalia. Mine.”

No. Not yet.

I rip myself from his arms, shoving as hard as I can against his chest. He stumbles back, nearly falling on his ass.

I take off again, racing away. I burst out into the clearing, triumph coursing through my veins. Desire eating me alive.

”If you want me, come and get me,” I shout over my shoulder, running toward the edge of the pond.

”You”re in so much fucking trouble when I catch you this time, Thalia,” he growls, his voice a lot closer than I expected. I can practically feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I run faster, laughing. I”m not afraid of him. He doesn”t scare me. This is the most fun I”ve ever had.

”Thalia, look out!” His sharp warning comes too late.

My feet tangle on a massive root, pitching me forward. I cry out in shock, spinning to the side to avoid being impaled on a giant, jagged rock.

The pond rushes up to meet me.

”Thalia!” Troy roars in terror as I crash below the surface, sinking.

The cold water sends a shock through me. For a moment, I can”t move. I can”t think. I simply sink, too stunned to do anything. And then a powerful jolt rips through me—my instincts kicking in.

Before I can even bunch my muscles to propel myself to the surface, Troy is there, his strong arms closing around me, dragging me toward the sunlight.

We break the surface, water sluicing from us in a flood. I gasp, choking. He clings to me, running his hands all across me, almost frantic.

”Thalia,” he says, panic in his voice. ”Talk to me. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Please, tell me you aren”t hurt.”

The same stark fear reflects in his eyes. It”s stamped across every line of his gorgeous face. He”s afraid for me. Terrified, even.

My heart melts at the realization that this powerful prince just dove into the pond fully clothed to rescue me—that he”s trembling in fear because he was afraid to lose me.

No, he”s not a tyrant. He”s the man I”m already falling in love with.

I crash my lips against his, wrapping my legs around his waist, trying to meld us into one person. Desperate to feel every inch of him.

He groans, his hands digging into my hips. ”Thalia,” he breathes against my lips. ”Fuck, Thalia.”

Fear from my fall and excitement from the chase race through me, creating a maelstrom of need. It hurts. God, it hurts.

”Troy, please,” I whimper, clawing his back. Biting his lip.

He knows what I want, what I need.

One hand slips between our bodies. Two fingers plunge inside me. I throw my head back, crying out in ecstasy as he fucks me with them right there in the middle of the pond.

”I”m not stopping until you scream for me, sweet Thalia,” he growls. ”I want every fucking animal in this forest to hear you.”

They”re going to. I know they are because I”m already on the edge. I grind against him, chasing the pleasure, sobbing his name.

An orgasm rips through me, tearing me apart.

I cry out his name, shouting it into the clearing, as stars erupt behind my eyelids.

”No,” he snarls, his fingers still plunging, still demanding more. ”Not loud enough, angel. Louder.” He adds another finger, stretching me. Filling me.

”Troy, please,” I beg, writhing on the edge of something vast and profound. Something unlike anything I”ve felt before. It”s terrifying and terrifyingly beautiful.

”Louder,” he demands, refusing to be denied.

Maybe he is a tyrant, after all. But he”s my tyrant. And God help me, I love his twisted games. Every wicked one of them.

I come again, screaming so loud my voice breaks.

When it does, he presses his forehead to mine, his lips sweet and gentle against mine. ”Good girl,” he breathes against my lips. ”Good girl, angel.”

My god. This wicked prince is going to be the death of me.