Page 12 of King of Pride and Talons

Breya began to feel coy as she walked past him, his long blonde hair looking glossy under a generous slant of moonbeams. She gasped at the remarkable sight before the feeling had a chance to settle.

The garden was teeming with flowers, herbs, fruits, and vegetables in a kaleidoscopic tapestry of awe. Breya couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was essentially an opulent greenhouse fed by advanced craftsmanship. She walked among them with her hand cupping her mouth, a bioluminescent glow enchanting each step.

“Oh my God, Thorne,” she said, completely exhilarated. "This is incredible. You really weren't kidding."

He followed along behind her, pointing out each garden bed and buzzing pot to explain what thrived within it. It was clear he spent a lot of time in here and had a vested interest as opposed to tossing the task to the hired hands.

It made her feel even more embarrassed about her snarky remark.

She stopped walking, her contrition crawling up her throat like a worm.

"I’m sorry about that,” she blurted out.

The king stopped, hands still pulled behind his back. His expression returned to that grave stare.

Breya wasn’t fond of it.

“About what?"

"What I said back there. That wasn’t very kind of me. It was a bit assuming.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his hands still pinned behind his back.

“I understand. After all, I am a king. And kings can be rather prickly. In case you didn't know.”

The grim look eroded once more. When they’d first met, Thorne’s eyes had appeared gray like a dull, bleak in-limbo day between winter and spring. But under the stream of light, she spotted a pinch of ice. There were more silvery-blue than gray.

They stood beside the Broccoli Romanesco, which ironically looked like a cactus with tight clusters of bright green, cone-shaped heads. On the opposing side was Tronchuda Beria, hyoid kale, which apparently could tolerate more heat than most kale. The green shade was astonishing like that of a shiny frog's head.

“I really didn't know,” she said, responding to his playful tone. “You will have to tell me all about it.”

Breya stepped toward him, enthralled by the way his resolve began to crumble. Finally, his hands unclenched from behind his back, and he swayed in her direction.

“Let me ask you this first. Do you want to know one thing I have never done here?”

Breya’s heart smashed around in her chest. She thought about the chickens on her home farm, rattling to escape once the rooster crowed.

“No. Tell me,” she purred.

The king lifted his fingers to her face, pushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to her cheek. He was close, his gaze soft but his focus razor sharp. His touch along her lips was agonizingly slow and light. She found herself aching for him to go hard for her.

“Tell me,” she purred again.

That vain smile. It took nothing away from the burning that ran up her thighs and nestled into her pelvis. She wanted him in ways she’d never wanted a man.

When he spoke, he growled, but at a low timbre that made her breathe catch in her throat.

“I’ve never kissed a beautiful witch here in the gardens.”

He crushed her with his mouth, more powerful and far less delicate than the first time. This was what she wanted. She wondered briefly before he began to guide her backward toward a garden bench if he could sense her wanting. Her thoughts turned into a haze of desire then, every consideration or concern dissipating like a tumbleweed in a gust of wind.

They were passionate, moaning and groaning as their tongues danced and explored each other's tastes. Breya felt like her limbs were moving on their own, raking his back as he found her neck and nipped kisses until she began to whimper.

"Sit down. I’m hungry, and I need you right now."

She did as he told her, plopping down on the bench. Stars twinkled overhead as he parted her legs, trailing his mouth down her neck and teasing the perky exposure of her chest.

“Oh, Thorne,” she moaned.

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