Chapter 4

4

COLDEN

A lexus doesn’t let me down.

We share an early dinner with the prince and his council in order to allow more time to rest for our coming travels. Afterward, the prince offers a last, short stroll of the gardens, inviting both Alexus and I, as he’s become accustomed to my friend tagging along.

Thankfully, just as we step onto the veranda that spans the length of the palace, Alexus asks to be excused for the night, stretching the fakest yawn I have ever seen. The prince, of course, dismisses him, wishing him a good night.

Finally, we’re alone.

“I’d love to show you the rooftop if you’re willing,” the prince says. “We’ve been blessed with such perfect weather during your stay. It would be a shame to not show you the sunset from the top of Shara.”

“I am more than willing,” I reply with a quirk of my lips. “Lead the way, Your Majesty.”

By the time we reach the rooftop, the sun is already halfway set, warming the sky in shades of deep orange, pink, purple, and red. The prince strolls to the balustrade and stares out over the land.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Stunning.”

My eyes should be glued to the mesmerizing scene, but I can’t help glancing around. The roof is covered with stone pots and trellises overflowing with fragrant roses and lit with ornate metal and glass lanterns. But the most interesting part of the decor is the double loungers lined up side by side. Four, in fact. Covered in soft cushions. For sunset viewing parties, I suppose.

I head to the nearest one, wine glass in hand, and take a seat, propping my feet up, crossing them at the ankles.

The prince turns around, an instant smile lighting his face as I sip my wine. “Can I join you?”

Mmm. His voice. It falls a shade deeper when we’re alone. Smoother. Like honeyed whisky.

I pat the cushion beside me. “I would be quite sad if you didn’t.”

A bolt of excitement races up my spine when he takes his seat next to me, his body mere inches from mine. I can feel his heat, smell the lavender and vanilla on his skin and in his hair.

We stare at the sun-painted sky in silence for a while, and I make myself focus and soak in the warmth. I will ache for this sort of heat soon. I ache for it often, though more so when winter comes.

As the colors fade from the horizon and the sky grows dim, the prince suddenly says, “Does the perfect king have a perfect queen?”

It’s such an unexpected question that I blink over at him, sure I heard him wrong. “Pardon?”

He laughs. “Does the perfect king have a perfect queen ? Or king ? I’m only inquiring, like you did.”

“No,” I answer, probably far too quickly. “No queen. No king, either. No one.”

He bobs his head, as though deep in thought. “Interesting. I found myself wondering. About you and Alexus, mainly.”

“Oh, gods, no. We’re very close.” I pause, trying to figure out how to describe what we share. I settle on, “As close as two friends can possibly be. But we’re just that. Friends.”

“Truly? He’s awfully protective of you to only be a friend.”

I shrug. “He sees it as his duty to protect his king.” And to make sure I live so he lives as well. “He drives me mad sometimes, though his heart is in the right place. But again, no. We aren’t lovers if that’s what you’re asking.”

Not really. Another topic that’s far too complex to truly explain.

With darkness falling around us, I meet his glittering eyes. “I was hoping that would be your answer,” he says. His face suddenly morphs, a bit more serious. “I’ve worried about it all week. From the moment I first saw you step out of the carriage.”

My brows rise of their own volition. “Is that so? And here I thought you hardly noticed me, all while I was ogling your ass from every angle.”

He laughs, but then he meets my eyes, and everything about his expression sets my blood on fire. “Oh, I noticed you. Surely you could tell. I’ve hardly looked away from you this entire week.” His gaze travels over me, intimate as a touch. “You’re quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see more.”

I swallow hard, my pulse beginning to pound. “Careful, now, Your Majesty. I wouldn’t advise flirting with me, unless you like kissing boys, because I’ve struggled all week as well, and I’m about two seconds away from?—”

Before I can register what’s happening, the prince leans forward and crushes his mouth to mine. Blindsided, it takes several moments to make my brain work, for my head to tilt the right way, my lips to soften and part for his eager tongue. But then it’s over, those first awkward seconds of learning the tempo and shape of our kiss.

And it is divine.

The prince’s hand slips into my hair, gripping the roots, and I cup his face, my wine glass forgotten. This kiss is a heady thing, more than I imagined it would be, everything about his mouth tempting me.

We kiss like two starved animals, sucking and biting and licking. I could stay right here, just like this, for eternity. The feel of his plump lips held between mine is that delicious. That perfect.

The wildness between us changes, though. The desperate hunger eases, just enough that our kiss turns softer. Deeper. Slower. An exploration. A tasting. I am utterly lost to it, this divine kiss, a kiss that feels like all that beautiful light earlier, bright and shining and warm, cascading through every part of me.

I turn my body toward his for more contact, and suddenly he presses closer. His hands are everywhere, sliding under my tunic to caress my naked skin, brushing across my nipple, then dragging down, down, down, trailing the length of my thigh before cupping the curve of my ass.

Unable to stop myself, I grip his waist and tug him toward me, gasping into his mouth when I feel the ridge of his thick cock against my hip. It’s bold, but I grab his hand and press his palm to my own erection, needing him to feel how much I want this. How much I want him .

He traces the outline of my cock, from my throbbing head to my tightening balls, squeezing me through my trousers until I exhale a sob of pleasure. With our mouths still connected, I flip him over, using the weight of my body to press him into the cushions. He spreads his legs to welcome me and whimpers when I rub my cock against his. I swear to the gods, that whimper is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.

I grip his hands and drag them over his head, deepening our kiss. When I pull back a little, he catches my mouth with his, keeping me from getting too far.

“Colden,” he whispers, arching his hips toward mine, pressing his hardness against me once again. “Please,” he says, grinding. “I’m begging you.”

Please. Gods, that one word undoes me.

Everything changes again, and for the final time, because as we kiss, I feel myself being absorbed, feel my mind and body becoming lost to the wonder and mystery of this man. There’s a neediness inside me that wants to crawl inside the prince and never come out. Because he just feels right. Like these are the lips I’m meant to kiss. Like this is the body I’m meant to hold. Like his is the heart I’m meant to know better than any other. It’s overwhelming and soul-rattling to feel all this for someone whose name I don’t even know.

Finally, I free his hands and draw away, groaning as he sucks my lower lip, only letting go when I’m hovered above him.

“Tell me your name.” My voice is ragged. Breathy. “Tell me what I can call you. I’ll speak it only to you. Only tonight if that’s what you wish.” I lean down and kiss him again, threading my fingers with his. “I want your name on my tongue.”

He stares up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes, but I swear they darken, that a shadow of sudden horror passes over them. He starts to speak but says nothing, as though he can’t. He seems confused, gaze darting, like he heard something that shook him, enough that the heat between us grows exquisitely cold.

And just like that, I feel shut out, as though he’s emptied his mind of me.

Like a startled animal, he pushes me away and scurries out from beneath me. I watch him half-stumble to the balustrade, catching himself with his hands pressed to the stone railing. His back expands and falls several times with deep breaths, and he rakes those long fingers through that raven hair over and over.

When he finally faces me, his lips are still wet and swollen, his clothes rumpled, his hair tousled, and I just want him to come back to me, to let me take him the way I know he desires. I open my mouth to call to him, but I’m quickly reminded that I still don’t have his name.

“This went too far.” He scrubs his fingers over his mouth, as if to scrub away our kiss. “I’m sorry, Colden. I shouldn’t have?—”

“Yes, you fucking well should have.” I crawl off the lounger and stand on weak legs, my heart still pounding, my cock still hard. “You know you should have.” He stiffens when I come toward him, so I stop, hating that this is the turn things have taken. “I don’t understand. That was nothing short of amazing. What was to come would surely have been even better. Yet you act like I tossed a cold bucket of water in your face, all by simply asking for your name. Is it so terrible, your name? So awful that sharing it with me will make me want you less? Because I can assure you that wouldn’t be the case.”

He takes another deep breath. Lets it out. “It wasn’t that. I simply realized that you are the king of the North, and I am the prince of the East, and the last thing we need to do is…is…”

“Fuck?” I supply, taking a step closer. “Or make love?” I ask in a softer tone.

Because that’s where things were headed. I know because I’m quite comfortable with mindless, heartless, passionless fucking . And what we were about to do was not that. It was something more. Something special. Something wonderful. I can’t believe I can even entertain that idea, that I could make love to a man I hardly know, but it’s true.

He holds up a hand. “Stop. Stop everything. I lost my head tonight, that’s all. I’m very sorry, but it’s best if we just pretend this never happened.”

I rest my hands on my hips, incapable of doing anything but staring at him, openly affronted. “It didn’t have to end this way. No matter what our titles read. However, if you can walk away from that—” I gesture to the lounger “—so easily, then perhaps it really is for the best that we go our separate ways. Because I deserve better than to be with someone who makes me feel forgettable.”

“Colden!” he calls as I turn to go.

But I don’t turn around. I keep walking until I’m in the stairwell on my floor.

Then alone in my bedchambers. Only once I’m in seclusion do I let out my frustration, punching the helpless new mattress until my arm muscles burn from the effort.

Finally, I fall back on the bed, despising the way I feel. Rejected. Unwanted. Unloved. It’s stupid, really, that a man who hides his identity from the world could make me feel this way after one kiss. That he could make me feel anything at all.

I strip off my clothes, scrub the scent of him from my skin and his taste from my mouth, and then I climb into bed and stare at the canopy, one word repeating in my head.

Temporary. This is only temporary .

The want. The ache. The hurt.

All of it.

Temporary.