Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

With my hand balled in the skirt of my gown, I ran through the wisteria vines, heart racing and blood . . . blood heating. I ran as fast as I could, darting to the left and then the right. Hair slipped free in the mad dash, tossing across my face, and I didn’t slow.

Not until I felt him closing in on me.

Deep within the wisterias, I stopped. Panting, I scanned the sōl-lit canopy of vines as my grip on my skirt eased off. I didn’t see him, but I felt him in the thickening of the air, in the electric charge that danced along my skin. I knew he was close as my fingers went to the dainty lace of my bodice. Watching and waiting, he the predator and I the prey. Anticipation swelled. A throbbing ache pulsed between my thighs so acutely I swayed. I didn’t understand how I was so aroused or why, but it was like a different kind of instinct had taken over the moment I caved to the wild urge and it was in control now, guiding me farther back into the shadows of the wisteria. Every small sound— every snap of a twig or tousle of vines— heightened my senses, my desire. I almost felt as if I was losing my mind, because I ached as if I had been taunted and teased. I burned as if I had touched his come. Muscles low in my stomach curled. My eyes started to drift shut—

The Prince had made no sound. He came at me from behind, one arm folding around my waist, hauling me back against his chest. I could feel him breathing as hard as me. I could feel his arousal pressing against my back.

“Told you I would catch you,” he said, his breath warm against my cheek. His other arm came around me, the fingers curling over where mine still clutched the bodice. “Didn’t I?”

I let my head fall back against his chest. “Only because I let you.”

His laugh was all smoke and sin, teasing my skin. “I hope you thought about this before you ran. What would happen when I caught you.”

I shuddered.

“What I would do to you.” His lips grazed my throat and then closed on the skin at the slope of my neck and shoulder. He sucked hard, wringing a sharp cry from me. “Are you ready?”

Yes. No? I found it hard to breathe as I trembled, expecting him to take me then. To drive me to the ground. But he waited.

Pulse pounding, I stared at the glowing orbs above us. He was waiting. That silly swelling motion returned, and I ignored it. The emotion had no place here. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”

The sound he made was one I had never heard before. It came from deep within him, a triumphant growl of . . . of warning.

The fingers overlapping mine curled, catching the collar of the bodice. With one hard tug, my body jerked against his. Stitches loosened at my shoulders as he exposed my breasts to the warm night air. I looked down at the turgid peak of my breast as his hand closed over the flesh, as I wrapped my own fingers around his wrist. His mouth closed over the skin beneath my ear as he drew the skirt of my gown up. Humid air swirled around my bare legs, my thighs, the lacy undergarments. I held the gauzy skirts, and his hand slipped below, balling into the thin fabric there. Lust pounded through me as he tore the material free from my body with one quick, brutal jerk.

The Prince took me to the ground then, onto my knees, his large body caging mine in. The damp grass pressed into my palm as I held on to the wrist of the hand he braced in the soil. It was maddening— the way he held me there for several moments. Then he shifted behind me. His thigh parted mine. I shook.

“You’re not going to be able to take all of me like this. Not yet.” His voice was a heated whisper against my neck. “But na’laa?”

“What?” I gasped at the feel of the hard, unbelievably hot length of his cock sliding over my ass.

“You’re going to want to.” A guttural sound left him as the head of his cock pressed into the heat—

I cried out, hips jerking at the feel of him, just the crown of his arousal parting my flesh, as the sound of him kicked off a sharp, sudden explosion of sensation.

“Oh yeah. You’re going to want to.” His hand gripped my hip, steadying me. My legs shook as my hand slipped to rest atop his, and there was nothing in my mind but a haze of red-hot lust. His lips pressed a kiss to my wildly beating pulse. “Badly.”

A rush of damp heat flooded me. He eased in another inch, his width, those ridges, stretching me.

“But I’m not going to let you,” he swore.

“W-What?” I started to turn my head.

Thorne folded his arm over my hips, sealing my back to his, and then he thrust into me.

My cry was lost in his shout. Buried deep in me, he didn’t move, and I couldn’t think beyond the feel of him. The piercing, vibrating heat and hardness. My entire body shook.

Then he moved.

The Prince withdrew, and those ridges— oh gods, they dragged along the sensitive walls, catching that hidden spot just as he pushed back inside. And the sound I made, it was a whimper and a scream as he held me against him, moving in and out of me slowly, steadily. He was in complete control, the way he held me keeping me from moving my lower body— from pushing back on him or retreating. All I could do was kneel, my fingers curling between his, and take him.

And he took me.

His pace became faster, harder. He drove into me, his cheek pressed to mine, and I swore I could feel his stare on my bare breast, pushed up by the bodice. Tension curled and spun and tightened. He fucked, but I had never been fucked like this. My entire body pulsed, every nerve ending becoming raw. I could feel the release building, spinning each time he hit that spot. My eyes were wide, gaze fixed on my white-knuckled grip on his hand.

“Oh gods,” I gasped as he plunged into me. My chest clenched. My core spasmed and everything unraveled as I moaned, “Thorne.”

“Fuck,” he snarled, slamming into me. He lifted my knees slightly, grinding into me as I came, as I felt him swelling, felt that knot at my opening as he pumped into me, and my body moved on its own, wiggling and trying to bring him even deeper into me, as pleasure rolled and rolled through me.

“Bad girl,” he laughed, gasping as his arm tightened, stilling my movements.

He wouldn’t allow me to take him where he was at his thickest, and I might’ve actually hissed . . . or growled. I wasn’t sure, because the pleasure crested again, leaving me quivering and still hot, still . . . still throbbing.

Thorne pulled out suddenly, pressing his cock against the curve of my ass as he found his release, as the tension erupted inside me all over again.

Releases that could last for hours . . .

“Oh fuck,” I moaned, the whirling sensation building in a crescendo once more. “I . . . I can’t.”

“You can.” His lips grazed my flushed cheek as he moved us down. “You will.”

The ground was cool against my chest, his body hot against my back even as he supported his weight on the hand beneath mine. The release took me again, and he wasn’t even inside me any longer.

“Why . . . why did you pull out?” I gasped.

“I didn’t want to,” he said, holding me tight. “I think I would kill to be inside you right now, but if you think this is intense?”

It was. I had never felt anything like it.

“It would be a hundred times more if I stayed inside you.” He eased us onto our sides. “It would drive you mad.”

I might have already been a little mad as he stayed with me, petting the curve of my hip, my thigh, and the swell of my ass. He stayed with me as every small, delicate muscle inside me spasmed, and I held on, my grip on his hand never slipping. His hold on mine never waning. Not even when I finally went limp, exhausted and sated. Our hands remained sealed.

And my mind remained quiet.

“No,” I protested halfheartedly.

Thorne grinned from where he was nestled between my thighs. “Yes,” he murmured, parting my swollen flesh with a swipe of his wicked tongue.

The low moan that rattled from my chest was only one of many I’d made since we left the gardens.

The Prince of Vytrus was insatiable when it came to giving pleasure.

I didn’t remember much of our return to the manor, but from the moment we reached his quarters, time had become a sensual blur. We’d bathed— or more accurately, he’d bathed me, washing the dirt and blades of grass from my body as I’d washed away the blood from his skin once before. He made me come then, with his fingers, and when we made it to his bed, our bodies still damp, he’d started a slow exploration of my body, kissing a path along the curve of my jaw, down my throat, and over my breasts. His tongue had been wicked there too, swirling over my nipples just like his tongue now swirled inside me.

Thorne feasted.

My fingers balled into the sheets as his tongue dipped in and out. I hadn’t thought I’d have the energy in me to move, but I’d been wrong. I lifted my hips to his thrusts, and his answering growl of approval inflamed me. A faint golden glow edged his bare shoulders as he shifted, working a finger inside me. I groaned.

Thick lashes lifted. Eyes a brilliant shade of blue dotted with silvery stars met and held mine. “Don’t look away,” he ordered. “I want to see your eyes when you come.”

I shuddered, trembling all over.

“I want to see your eyes when you come, screaming my name.” His finger curled deep inside me. “Understand?”

“Yes,” I panted. “Your Grace.”

He nipped at my flesh, drawing a ragged moan from me. There was a flash of a grin along his damp lips and then his mouth closed over my clit. My back bowed and my hips lifted from the bed. I didn’t look away. Our gazes remained locked, and I did scream when I came, his name spilling from my lips as I quivered.

I was boneless as he crawled up the length of my body, dropping a quick kiss on my navel, at my rib cage, the swell of my breast. As he settled beside me, his lips pressed against my temple.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” I murmured. He’d asked that when we’d been in the gardens, when the aftershocks had finally begun to ease. The question had caught me off guard then. It still did now. “Are you?”

Thorne chuckled. “I am.”

I turned my head toward his. Our mouths were scant inches apart as I lifted my hand to his chest. I splayed my fingers across his chest. “But you didn’t . . .”

“I don’t have to find release to feel pleasure.” The hand resting on my stomach glided up, folding over the swell of my breast. “The most exquisite kind of pleasure is derived from bestowing it upon another.”

“You . . . you really aren’t a mortal man then,” I said.

He laughed, the sound light and causing my heart to skip. “If you’re truly just now realizing that, I’m not sure what to tell you.”

I huffed, eyes drifting shut. The silence that fell between us then was warm, companionable, and nothing like I’d experienced before with anyone I’d been with. There was always this need to speak, to fill the quiet either to stave off the inevitable awkwardness that often came or to keep my mind from slipping in another.

But the Prince was nothing like I’d ever experienced.

“I leave in the morning, by the way,” Thorne said eventually.

“I remember.” A pang of unease sliced my chest. Did I not want him to leave? Or was it something else? “When will you return?”

“I believe it will only take a few days.”

I tried to decipher the feelings inside me. Shouldn’t I feel relief that he’d be gone for a few days? I didn’t. There was just unease, and maybe a little . . . sadness. Oh gods, I realized it was likely because I would miss him.

I needed help.

“Then you should be back in time for the Feasts,” I said.

“I should be.”

Some of the pleasant haze faded as the reality of what was to come resurfaced. “How long do you think it will be before the Westlands or the Iron Knights reach Archwood?”

“That I cannot answer for sure, but I suspect it will be before the month’s end.”

My stomach hollowed as I drew the pads of my fingers over the chiseled lines of his chest.

“Leave with me.”

“What?” I blinked open my eyes.

The blue and green of his eyes swirled into the brown. “Come with me when I leave to meet with the armies.”

My breath snagged on the word yes, but I stopped it from escaping. Anticipation swelled at the prospect of traveling with him, of being with him, at his side, but that . . . that felt like more. Dangerously so. I swallowed, closing my eyes. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Probably not,” he said, then fell quiet for several moments. “Will you have dinner with me then, when I return?”

“You’re actually asking if I will?” A tired smile tugged at my lips as I struggled to ignore the disappointment with myself— with him for not pushing that I go with him, which was entirely messed up.

“Is that not what you want from me?”

I shouldn’t want anything from him. “Yes.”

His thumb swept over the peak of my breast. “Then will you?” “Yes.”

Thorne was quiet for a moment, and then I felt his lips against my cheek. “Thank you.”

A tripping motion went through my chest. Any Hyhborn, let alone a prince, expressing gratitude was, well, unheard of, and I didn’t know what to do with that as I lay there, the Prince eventually slipping into sleep.

But I stayed awake, my fingers resting against his chest. I didn’t know why in those quiet, dark moments I thought of the premonition I had in the Great Chamber when Ramsey Ellis had come to the Baron with news of the Westlands.

He’s coming.

I knew that premonition had been about Thorne.

That he came for what is his.

That was what Maven had said, and I knew that when Thorne had been here before, he had been searching for something.

Or someone.

A light touch to my cheek woke me. I opened my eyes to the faint rays of dawn glancing off the cut of Thorne’s jaw and the golden hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest. It was morning, and that meant . . .

“You’re leaving?” I whispered, voice heavy with sleep.

Thorne nodded. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, thick lashes lowered as he drew his fingers along my chin.

“It’s okay.” I started to sit up.

“No, stay. I like the idea of you being here, in the bed I’ve slept in,” he told me, his brows furrowing. A moment passed, and those lashes lifted. His gaze slipped over my face, lingering on my . . . my lips.

Though I was only half awake, my pulse started to pound. I thought he looked at me like he . . . like he wanted to kiss me.

I wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted to kiss him.

Neither of us moved, though. Not for several moments. Then he lowered his head. My eyes drifted shut. His lips didn’t touch mine. They brushed over my brow, and for some reason, that sweet, chaste kiss . . . it undid me.

“I’ll return to you as soon as I can,” Prince Thorne said. “I promise.”

Eyes remaining closed, because I was afraid that if they opened they would start watering, I nodded.

“Go back to sleep, na’laa.” He tugged the sheet up over my arm. His touch lingered at my shoulder. “Till later.”

“Till later,” I whispered hoarsely.

Prince Thorne stood, and though he moved so quietly, I knew the exact moment he’d left the chamber. I opened damp eyes.

Do you like him?

That was what Grady had asked.

Gods.

I thought I did.

I found Claude in his study that afternoon, alone as he sat behind his desk. He looked up as I entered, his smile a little off.

“Do you have a moment?” I asked.

“Always for you.” He folded a piece of parchment and set it aside. I glanced at the ever-increasing stack of letters. “I’m glad you’ve come by. I’ve been wondering if the arrangement between you and the Prince has fared well or if you’re glad for the momentary reprieve.”

My cheeks warmed as I thought of last night. “Surprisingly well.”

“I can see,” he chuckled, leaning back as he crossed one leg over the other. “So, you’re not so against this arrangement now?”

I lifted a shoulder, having not come to talk about the Prince. I sat in one of the chairs before his desk. “He told me that you were with the people of Archwood yesterday.”

“I was.” He brushed a lock of dark hair back from his face, his pale cheeks turning pink. “I thought it would be wise that I see what is being done. That I be seen.” He cleared his throat. “I was there this morning for a little bit.”

“I think it’s a good idea.” I smiled at him. “Hopefully it will inspire others to take part.”

“Hopefully,” he murmured, lowering a hand to the arm of his chair. “We shall see, I suppose.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about.” I twisted my fingers together, unsure of why I was so nervous. Actually, that wasn’t true. I was worried I was going to prove myself a naive fool today. “It’s about your other cousin.”

“Is it?” He glanced at the closed door.

I opened my senses, letting that connection forge between us. I saw the gray wall. “Does he . . . does he have abilities like me?”

His brows knitted as his head tilted. “Are you trying to read me, Lis?”

I stiffened. “Can you tell?”

He laughed roughly. “Only because I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re reading someone. Your stare becomes rather intense and you don’t blink.”

“Oh.” I squirmed a little in my chair.

“He does,” he answered.

I stopped fidgeting. Everything stopped.

“That’s how I knew what you said when we first met could be true. He had the same knack for knowing. He had other . . . knacks.” His shoulders rose with a deep breath. “And if you’re wondering why I didn’t tell you, it was because by the time I met you, Vayne was already committing acts of treason. I thought that if I told you that there was another like you, you would want to meet them, and meeting him would endanger you.”

I was still connected to him, and his thoughts reflected what he said, but he knew I was in his mind. Hearing thoughts didn’t mean I couldn’t be fooled. “Then you know what I . . . I am?” I whispered.

He stared at me, brow furrowing. “Did the Prince tell you something?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t understand— ”

“Am I a caelestia?” I interrupted.

He blinked rapidly. A moment passed. “I don’t know.”

“Claude.” I leaned forward, fingers pressing into the knees of my tights. “Have you known this whole time that I wasn’t really mortal?”

“Caelestias are mortal too, Lis. We just have stronger blood. That is all,” he said.

Except caelestias weren’t treated like lowborn. “Have you known?”

He held my stare, then looked away. “At first, I . . . I suspected that you were.”

An ache pierced my chest as I sucked in a breath that went nowhere. “And you never told me? Why wouldn’t you— ”

“Because I’m not sure what you are,” he cut in. “And I speak the truth. You don’t bear the mark.”

I frowned. “What mark?”

“Your eyes. They’re brown. A beautiful shade of brown,” he added quickly. “But all caelestias have eyes like mine. Some are different in other ways.” He looked away. “But you don’t bear the telltale trait of a caelestia.”

“My eyes . . .” I thought of how they’d looked different the other day, an inner ring of . . . of blue appearing around the pupils. My throat tightened. The night in Union City? Thorne and Lord Samriel . . . they had been looking at the eyes of the children there. My palms dampened.

“Has the Prince sensed that you were a caelestia?” Claude asked.

“No,” I said, wiping my palms on my knees. “The Prince has always referred to me as a mortal, but . . .”

“But what?”

“But he says there’s something about me that he can’t figure out,” I said, breathing through the stinging in my throat. “He feels as if he met me before.”

“Because he has, hasn’t he?”

Losing my connection with him, I went rigid. Even my heart stuttered.

“He’s the Hyhborn you met in Union City, isn’t he?” Claude drew his fingers over his brow. “The one you thought was a lord?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “How did you know it was him?”

“I didn’t till the other night, at dinner. It was the way he behaved toward you. The way he . . .” His eyes squinted. “The way he claimed you.”

That he came for what is his.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered.

“Neither do I, and I mean that. I truly do.” He dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. “You have abilities similar to my cousin, but if a prince cannot sense that you’re a caelestia and you don’t bear the mark, then there was no way for me to know for sure.”

I looked away, swallowing. “You still could’ve told me.”

“Then what? Do you know how a caelestia is proven if there are no parents to make the claim? They are taken to the Hyhborn Courts, where a prince or another Deminyen confirms their lineage,” he explained. “And if a Deminyen couldn’t sense it now, what would’ve been the likelihood of one being able to do so then? I know I said I wasn’t worried about Prince Thorne believing you to be a conjurer, but others? It would be too risky.”

I tried to accept what he said. He had a point, but . . . “You don’t have abilities.”

Claude laughed roughly. “No, I don’t. Neither does Hymel. Neither do most caelestias.”

“Then why would your cousin have them?”

“Or you? If that is what you are?” He said what I hadn’t. “Because my cousin is starborn. A mortal made divine.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” I demanded.

“That is not something I can answer,” he said, dragging a hand over his head.

I stood, flashing from confusion to anger and then disappointment. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t,” he insisted, and several moments passed. “Maybe I should’ve told you anyway. I’d be lying if I said that fear for your safety was the only reason I remained quiet, but you already know that.”

“I do.”

Claude flinched, and damn it, seeing that hurt. I didn’t want it to, but it did. “I know I’m not a good man and that’s also something you already know,” he said, and it was I who winced then. “So my advice likely means nothing, but you need to ignore your intuition this time. When the Prince returns, you need to tell him that you’ve met before. You need to tell him.”