Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

There was a good chance that it was just my overactive imagination guiding my thoughts, filling in the gaps my intuition was silent on, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this one choice was the start of everything changing as Prince Thorne turned.

Without saying a word, he led me into the bedchamber. My heart was still pounding as I glanced from the doorway to the bathing chamber and then the bed. The nervous energy ramped up in me, a mixture of anticipation and the . . . the unknown. It had been so long since I’d been with anyone.

And I’d never been with anyone like him.

Prince Thorne stopped at the side of the bed and turned to me. He was still silent as he cupped my cheek, the colors of his irises swirling. Could he tell why my pulse hammered now? I dragged my lower lip between my teeth.

Holding my gaze, he drew the tips of his fingers down my throat, to my shoulder. He turned me so my back was to him. “What was it like for you? Growing up?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” The barely there touch had left a wake of shivers.

“Yes, you do.” He brushed aside the heavy length of hair over my shoulder. “Tell me.”

I stared ahead. “Why do you want to know?”

“I just do.”

“It’s not that interesting.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “Tell me what it was like, na’laa.”

“It was . . .” My breath caught as his fingers found the row of tiny hooks along the back of my dress. A bedside lamp clicked on, startling me. His ability to do such things wasn’t something I thought I could ever get used to. “It was hard.”

He was quiet for a moment. “When did you become an orphan?”

“When I was born?” I laughed. “Or shortly thereafter, I suppose. I don’t know what happened to my parents— if they had become sick or simply couldn’t care for me— and I . . . I used to think about that a lot. Like why did they give me up? Did they have a choice?”

“You don’t wonder that anymore?” he asked, the dress loosening as he slowly worked the clasps.

I shook my head. “There’s no point in it. Doing so would drive one mad, so I decided that they just didn’t have a choice.”

“That’s likely the truth no matter the scenario,” he commented, and I nodded. “How did you survive?”

“By doing whatever was necessary,” I said, and then quickly added, “I wasn’t alone. I had a friend. We survived together.”

“And this friend? It made surviving easier?”

I thought that over as the backs of his fingers brushed over the skin of my lower back. “It did make it easier, but . . .”

“But?”

“But it also made it harder,” I whispered. “Because it wasn’t just your own back you’re looking out for, you know? It’s someone else’s too— someone you worry about every time you part ways, looking for food or money or shelter? So many things can happen on the streets. Everyone is . . .” I stopped myself, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Everyone is what?”

I looked over my shoulder at him. The low light cast shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. “Do you really want to know this? Because you don’t have to pretend to be interested for us to do whatever this is.”

He stared down at me, eyes hidden beneath his lashes. “I’m not pretending,” he said. “And I wasn’t pretending at dinner either.”

I raised a brow. “You were truly interested in the different types of sedum?” I laughed. “No one is interested in sedum.”

“But you are.”

“Yeah, well, I’m easily entertained.”

Prince Thorne chuckled. “That is another thing I doubt,” he said. “Everyone was what, na’laa?”

Nibbling on my lower lip, I gave a little shake of my head. “Everyone is a potential enemy. Other kids, even ones you shared space with and trusted. The person who gave you bread one day can call the magistrates on you the next and accuse you of stealing. The too-friendly gentleman down the street? Well, that friendliness comes with a cost.” I shrugged as his fingers stilled along the last of the hooks. “So, you’re not just looking out for yourself, but you’re not alone. You do have someone else watching out for you too.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You make it sound like it was nothing.”

I did? “It just was what it was.”

There was another short gap of silence. “You are braver than I even realized.”

Face warming, I forced out a laugh. “That’s not true. I spent my entire life scared. I still— ” I dragged in a deep breath. “I don’t think I was or am brave. I was likely just desperate to survive.”

“Being afraid doesn’t lessen one’s bravery,” he said, finishing the last of the buttons. “Nor does desperation. If anything, it strengthens the bravery.”

“Maybe,” I murmured, clearing my throat. “I would ask what it was like for you, but since you were never a child . . .” I trailed off, frowning. “That’s a really weird thing to say out loud.”

The Prince huffed out a laugh, his fingers pressing lightly against my skin, parting the sides of the gown as he drew them up my back. The sleeves of the gown slipped a little farther down my arm, stopping just above my elbows.

“What was it like?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. “To be created?”

“It’s hard to explain and likely impossible to understand.” His hands grazed my upper back, sending another ripple of tight shivers through me. “But it’s like . . . waking up, opening your eyes, and knowing everything.”

I blinked. “Everything? Like in an instant?” I glanced back at him, but his head was turned in such a way that I couldn’t see his expression. “You know everything?”

“Yes, but it takes a while to understand what you know and how it all applies to the world around you— the world you’ve yet to enter.” His fingers traced the line of my shoulder blades. “It can take years to fully understand.”

I tried to fathom what it would be like, to wake up with the knowledge I’d gained over the course of a lifetime in a matter of minutes. He was right. I couldn’t understand. “That sounds . . . intense.”

“Very much so.”

I held still as he continued to explore the length of my back, enjoying his warm touch. “And when you were created, you looked like you do now?”

“Not exactly.” His fingers trailed down my spine. “When I came into consciousness, I was deep underground.”

I gasped. “You were buried alive?”

“No, na’laa.” He drew his hands back up my spine. “I was created from the earth, like all Deminyens are, and when we come into our consciousness, we are not yet fully . . . formed.”

“Not fully formed?” My gaze fell on his sheathed sword. “I’m going to need more details on that.”

“It takes a while for our bodies to develop into what you recognize now, and things can go wrong in the process of creation,” he explained. “We are but a consciousness at first, then over time, our bones are forged from the rock deep in the ground as our flesh is carved from stone.” His fingers skimmed the sides of my ribs. “All the while, the roots of the Wychwoods keep us fed, creating our organs and filling our veins. The process can take years while we listen to the life around and above us.”

My mouth was likely hanging open. I tried to wrap my head around all that and gave up because there was no way. “Years beneath the ground? I would go insane.”

“Of course you would. You are mortal,” he stated simply. “We are not.”

“But I don’t understand— I mean, you bleed blood. Not sap.”

“As do the Wychwoods.”

Recalling the rumors, my lip curled. “I’d heard that the Wychwoods bled, but I . . .”

“You didn’t believe it?”

“I figured it was just red sap people saw, but I guess I now understand why the Wychwoods are so sacred.” I gave a shaky laugh. “You know, the night in the gardens when you said you were a part of everything around us, I didn’t think you meant literally.”

“Most would not.” His fingers glided along the curve of my waist.

I thought about what he’d shared with me about the past world. “Did those who lived before the Great War know about the Wychwoods?”

“If they did, it was forgotten, but there would’ve been signs upon entering the woods that they treaded on sacred ground. Warnings that had to have been ignored. It was the destruction of the Wychwoods that woke the firsts.”

In a way, it was hard not to be angry with our ancestors when it seemed like they’d dug their own graves almost willingly. “There are Hyhborn that are born, right?” I asked. “I’m not talking about the caelestias.”

“The children of Deminyens are born and they age just as a caelestia or mortal, but perhaps slower.”

“That’s what I thought.” I paused. “Do you have children?”

“No.”

I didn’t know why I was relieved to hear that, but I was. “I’d heard that Deminyens can actually choose when to have a child. Like both parties have to want that for a child to be created. Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Must be nice,” I murmured.

“And you?” His hands slipped up my back again. “Have you had children?”

“Gods, no.”

Prince Thorne laughed. “I take it you aren’t fond of children?”

“It’s not that. It’s just what kind of . . .” I stopped myself. Grady’s words resurfaced. Why would I want to bring a child into this world? That was a damn good question for most, but for me? Even more so. How could I even touch my child?

“I understand,” he said quietly.

I opened my mouth, but closed it, thinking that maybe he did understand that I wouldn’t be able to give a child the life they deserved. That I feared that I would end up repeating history. I didn’t want to do that to a child. I couldn’t. But there was no way he could know how truly difficult it would be for me.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, you said that things can go wrong during the creation?”

“If the process is disturbed, the creation is interrupted.” He slid his hands down my arms, catching the sleeves of my gown. The breath I took snagged as the silky material slipped from my arms and from my hips, pooling at my feet. “What is unearthed is even less mortal than a Deminyen.”

A chill hit my exposed flesh. “You’re talking about the ones who don’t look like us? Like the nix?”

“In a way,” he said, his palms grazing my ribs once more, chasing away the coldness. “The nix are awakened early on purpose.”

My mind went back to the last time I was in this chamber. “Is that what you meant when you talked about not trusting those who created the nix?”

His breath touched the nape of my neck, and then I felt his lips there. “Yes.”

I wanted to ask him why one would attempt to disturb the process, but his hands made their way to my hips. His fingers slipped beneath the thin lace and he began to lower it.

My pulse sped up as I looked over my shoulder, seeing only the top of his bowed head as he drew the cloth down my legs, and then that too joined the gown on the floor. His mouth brushed against the curve of my ass, scattering my thoughts. Then his lips glanced off the dip of my lower back, the center of my spine, and then the nape of my neck as he rose once more.

“Tell me something, na’laa,” he said, turning me in his arms. “Is that how you survive now?”

I looked up, my gaze immediately locking with his. The blue had deepened to a color like the sky at dusk, seeping into the other hues. “What do you mean?”

He gathered my hair, dragging it back over my shoulder. “Do you still survive by doing whatever is necessary?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Thick lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “Is that why you decided to stay tonight?”

My stomach skipped. “No.”

“Truly?”

A tremor skated down my arms as I lifted them, curling my fingers along the sides of his tunic. In my chest, my heart pounded as I tugged his tunic up. Silent, he took over, removing his shirt, so I reached for the flap on his pants. Unhooking the buttons felt nothing like the first time I’d done this with him. Nor did it when I drew the soft, worn material of his pants down.

“Yes,” I answered as he stepped out of his pants. I placed the palms of my hands against his stomach, eyes closing as I soaked in the feel of his smooth skin beneath my hands. Another tremor went through me. “Truly.”

The Prince said nothing as I ran my hands over his chest, thinking about how his flesh really was made of stone. For several moments, I allowed myself to get a little lost in just touching him. The friction of his hard skin against my much softer hands. The tight dips and rises of his stomach. The corded muscles. I had no idea what I must’ve looked like to him, but the novelty of touching another was far too strong to resist. He didn’t stop me. He just stood there, allowing me to explore, much like I allowed him to do the same, and for that, I didn’t think he could ever understand what he’d given me as I lowered myself onto my knees before him, the stone of the floor as hard as his skin but cold.

I opened my eyes, lifting my gaze to the rigid, thick length jutting out from his hips. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

His head tilted slightly, exposing one . . . deeper-hued cheek to the lamplight.

My lips parted. “Are you . . . blushing?”

“Am I?” He sounded genuinely uncertain.

There was something wholly charming in that faint stain to his cheeks— that someone as powerful and otherworldly as a Deminyen could blush. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Thorne,” he corrected. “I don’t think I’ve ever blushed before.”

“Perhaps you have and no one has told you.”

“Many wouldn’t have the courage to do so,” he remarked, head straightening. “But I think this is a . . . first.”

It probably wasn’t, but I liked the idea of being the first to make the feared Prince of Vytrus blush. I smiled as I ran my hands along his thighs, focusing on his length. On my knees, I had to stretch to reach him, he was so absurdly tall. I dragged my hands over his skin, feeling the hard curve of his ass and then the lean flesh of his hips once more, all the while my blood thrumming. His size was impressive . . . and intimidating, and even if this weren’t something I hadn’t done in a while, I still would’ve felt nervous— excited but nervous.

“I was thinking,” I said, feeling bold and wanton. “That since you already had dessert, it would only be fair that I too have some.”

His fingers grazed my cheek before slipping into my hair. “Then have it.”

There was no hesitation, no uncertainty or pretense. I was on my knees before him, touching him, because I wanted to be, and there was nothing in my mind but my own thoughts. My hands didn’t shake as I wrapped my fingers around him, but he did. It was a slight tremor as my grip tightened on him, and I felt it again as my breath teased the head of his cock. I drew my hand up his length, feeling those slight ridges as I glanced up at him.

Air snagged in my chest. There was a faint golden blur to his shoulders, his arms. His head was bowed, hair falling forward and against the sides of his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his stare was intense and hot. It fanned the fire already simmering in my veins. The fingers in my hair curled.

I took him in my mouth and I shuddered at the deep, rumbling sound that came from him. I took him as far as I could, which wasn’t all that far, but the Prince . . . His answering groan and the shallow flex of his hips told me he didn’t mind at all. I ran my tongue along his length and over the ridges along the underside, reaching the indent under the tip of his cock. I drew him into my mouth again as he . . . he seemed to warm beneath my hand and inside my mouth, and that heat invaded my own senses. I sucked on the head of his cock, surprised by the taste of him. It wasn’t salty like I’d experienced before, but . . . faintly sweet? Like a dusting of something akin to sugar? I’d never tasted anything like it before. His hand tightened in my hair, tugging on the strands as I sucked harder, my mouth filling with more of the taste of him— my mouth tingled and that sharp swirl of sensations moved throughout me, hardening the tips of my breasts and joining the muscles curling tight and low in my stomach. Feeling myself dampen, I moaned around him. The faint, fiery sting along my scalp as his entire body jerked only heightened my arousal.

I leaned into him, pressing my breasts to his thighs as I worked him with my mouth and my hand. The throb against my tongue echoed between my thighs, and I wanted to reach down and touch myself, but I hadn’t ever done that— hadn’t ever touched myself before another. Gods, I wanted to so badly the ache was almost painful as my fingers pressed into the back of his calf.

“Fuck,” he growled, his body jerking again.

I’d never really enjoyed this act all that much before, but I was greedy now. I was insatiable as I drew him deeper, reveling in his taste, in the deep, guttural moans echoing from him. And when his hips started to rock, I wanted him to move faster, harder. I wanted all sorts of . . . of wicked things as I opened my eyes and looked up at him, my pulse thundering and my body aching. I squeezed my thighs together, shuddering at the flare of desire. His hold on the back of my head firmed, holding me in place as he moved. I wanted—

“Touch yourself.”

My eyes flew open.

He drew his cock from my mouth, and then guided me up onto my feet. My legs shook as he turned me, sitting me so that I was on the edge of his bed. He stepped in, spreading my legs wide. Cool air kissed the heat between my thighs. He reached down between us, taking ahold of one of my hands. He drew it over the length and the head of his cock, his flesh wet with my mouth and . . . and him. The tips of my fingers immediately warmed and began to tingle.

“What . . . what is this?” I asked, barely recognizing my voice. It was throaty. Sensual. “My skin is tingling and you taste . . .” I swallowed, moaning softly. In the cloud of lust, I remembered something he’d said. “Your come . . .”

“Is an aphrodisiac,” he finished.

“Good gods,” I gasped, eyes widening. He hadn’t even come yet, and it could have this kind of effect? “Now I— ” I moaned as a dart of intense desire pulsed through me. “I understand why people would want it so badly.”

His laugh was dark and sinful. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, folding his hand along the back of my head once more. “Fuck your fingers while I fuck your mouth.”

My body caught fire upon his demand— upon words that would’ve normally turned me off but now caused a whimper of pleasure to escape me. Eyes locked with his, I did as he demanded. I brought my hand to the space between my thighs as he watched, as he held completely still, his cock glistening between us. My fingers grazed my clit, and my hips nearly came off the bed. The tingling from my fingers transferred to the taut bud of nerves—

“Oh gods,” I cried out at the shiver of pleasure that rippled through me, body shaking. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can.” He drew my head closer to him. “I want those fingers inside you.” His jaw flexed. “I want them in you.”

Shuddering, I slipped them through the wetness and then inside me. He didn’t blink, not once as I began to move my fingers. He towered over me, his hand balled tightly in my hair. The tingling warmth followed the plunge of my fingers.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured.

My pulse thrummed as I took him into my mouth once more, gripping him with my other hand. I sucked on him as I did what he’d demanded. My hum of approval was lost in his growl as he thrust harder, his movements roughening, but there was a line of control in each push of his hips. He didn’t hurt me, and gods, I knew he could easily with how hard he was, how strong he was, but he took without taking, and I took more of that taste of him into my mouth, grinding against the bed as I touched myself. Muscles tightened and spun deep inside. He couldn’t hear my moans, but I knew he felt them as he watched me work his cock with my mouth, work myself with my own fingers. The release hit me hard, stealing my breath—

The Prince pulled out of my mouth, pushing me onto the bed as he settled between my legs, trapping my hand and his cock between us as he braced his weight above me. The hand in my hair tugged my head back. My gaze met his as he shuddered, his release hot and tingling against my hand— against my core, his body just as heated as his flesh seemed to hum. My eyes went wide at the riot of sensations as the edges of his body glowed just like the sōls. The sound I made as I clutched his arm would surely embarrass me, but his laugh— his rich, sultry laugh as he rocked against me— tugged at my own lips as wave after wave of pleasure swept through me.

And it went on, seconds into minutes, long after he’d stilled against me. The tremors of pleasure kept coming even as he reached between us, easing my fingers from me. I shook as he . . . he held himself over me, brushing the strands of damp hair back from my face, touching my cheek, my parted lips, his eyes open and not missing a single moment. He watched me, petted me as I came and came until the final wave of pleasure faded and I was finally released from the thrall. I stared at him, eyes half open.

Good gods, Naomi hadn’t been wrong about the orgasms. . . .

“Stay here,” the Prince said.

I wasn’t going anywhere as he lifted himself off me. I couldn’t move, every muscle seeming to have lost the ability to work. I thought I heard the water turn on. My eyes drifted shut as I lay there, the warmth disappearing from between my thighs before the taste of him faded from my tongue. I might’ve actually dozed off, because when I blinked open my eyes to find him standing above me, I had a feeling that he’d been there for some time.

“Here.” He bent, pressing one knee into the bed as he slid a hand under the nape of my neck and lifted my head. “Drink this.”

I opened my mouth to the cup he held at my lips. It was water and I drank fiercely, not realizing until that moment how thirsty I was. He took the cup away when I finished, then picked up a cloth he must’ve brought with him. He took ahold of my arm, wiping the damp cloth over my limp fingers and then lowering my hand to the bed.

“Next time— and there will be a next time,” he swore, dragging the cloth between my legs. The blue of his eyes turned luminous as I moaned, lifting my hips weakly against his touch. One side of his lips curled up. “You’re going to come on my dick, and you’re going to stay right there until the last bit of pleasure leaves you.” He paused, head tilting. “Do you agree?”

My brows lifted at his attempt at asking, and I would’ve laughed if I weren’t so tired. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Thorne,” he said with another laugh. “And I’m glad we agree.”

I snorted.

As he tossed the cloth aside, I knew I needed to get up and get dressed. The Prince wanted my company, but I knew there was a certain part of my company he desired that didn’t include me passed out in his bed, despite his request the previous night. Ordering myself to get moving, I started to sit up.

I didn’t make it very far.

Prince Thorne returned to my side, and before I knew what he was up to, he lifted me. He laid me down across the center of the bed, then settled in beside me. The click of the lamp turning off followed. I blinked open my eyes to the darkness of the room— to the chest I faced and touched. He planned on me staying the night with him? Sleeping beside him?

I’d only ever slept with Grady, and that was absolutely nothing like this. I didn’t know what to think or feel as I lay there. My heart tumbled over itself, but beneath my palm, his chest was still except for the shallow rise and fall of his breath. What had he meant when he said his heart hadn’t beat like a mortal’s in a long time? Did it have to do with how he was . . . created?

“Are you asleep?” I whispered.

There was silence and then, “Yes.”

My brows knitted. “Are you answering me in your sleep then?”

“Yes.” The arm around my waist tightened.

I swallowed, my fingers pressing against his chest— against where his heart should be but I couldn’t feel. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

My nose wrinkled. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yes, na’laa.”

“Don’t call me that,” I muttered.

“You’re being especially stubborn at the moment, though.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

He sighed, but the sound wasn’t an annoyed one. It was almost as if he were amused. “What’s your question?”

Biting down on my lip, I stared at the shadowy outline of his chest beneath my palm. “Did your heart beat like a mortal’s once before?”

“Yes.” He yawned.

I curled a finger against his skin. “Why doesn’t it beat like that now?”

“Because I . . .” His hand moved idly over my lower back. “I lost the ny’chora.”

“And what is that?”

He didn’t answer for so long that I thought he might have fallen asleep on me. “Everything.”

Everything?I waited for him to elaborate, but there was only silence. “Are you still awake?”

“No,” came the response with a soft laugh.

The corners of my lips rose, but the small grin quickly faded. I swallowed. “Would you prefer that I . . . that I return to my chambers?”

His arm tightened even more, pressing my stomach to his. “If I preferred that, you wouldn’t be in the bed with me.”

“Oh.”

He shifted, somehow managing to tuck one of my legs between his. “Na’laa?”

“Yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Good night, Your . . .” I closed my eyes, heart feeling . . . light. It had never felt that way before. “Good night, Thorne.”

He didn’t answer, but as I drifted off to sleep, I felt his lips brush against my forehead, and I thought I heard him whisper, “Good night, Calista.”