Page 33 of King of Pride and Talons

I’m taking you back home. Here, climb on my back.

She did as he asked, but warily. She didn't appear hurt to him, but she was likely in shock. When she curled her arms and legs around him, he sprang off, racing toward the castle.

Arriving back at the castle, the housekeepers were informed about what had happened. He asked them to call healers in case Vale and his man were hurt. Breya, on the other hand, was adamant that she was physically fine. He carried her up to his bedroom anyway, cradling her close, his anger burning a firestorm deep in his belly.

“I am okay, I promise,” she said as he started to undress her. “I just need you, Thorne. I need to feel you."

“Do you want me to run you a bath? I can have some of the herbalists bring you tea that will help you relax…"

“Thorne.”

He was facing the bathroom and was pulling at the zipper of his suit. He was caked in sweat and high on adrenaline. When he turned back to the bed, the sight that greeted him allowed him to start moving into the recovery stage rather effectively.

But not in the way he expected.

He gulped. His mouth had run dry.

“Breya…"

She was naked and sitting at the foot of the bed with her legs wide open. She was also layered in sweat, but none of that deterred his interest.

He couldn’t help but stare though it felt rude. Breya chuckled, shuffling her bottom closer to rest on the edge of the bed.

“I don't want to have a bath. I want you. I want you inside me. I want your mouth on me. That is what is going to make me feel better.”

Thorne wasn’t going to object.

He ripped off his suit, let it pool at his feet, and then fell to his knees. Her scent was exotic and appetizing.

“Your king is happy to do you this kindness…”

All of their misunderstandings of the day were compelled to disappear into the oblivion of their lovemaking.

EIGHTEEN

BREYA

Breya woke in the King’s bed the day after she had been taken. She remembered everything in a strange wash of imagery, colors confused and dulled. Getting home with Thorne was the best part, having felt overwhelmed with the need to be tangled up with his strong, warm body.

And they had made love beautifully. But the rest of the story gave the witch a bitter feeling in her belly.

She had to make a decision, one way or the other. And the sadness inside her left her aching for home. It wasn’t a castle, but it was a familiar, wonderful place.

Breya waited for Thorne to wake on his own. She was dreading dropping a bomb like that on his head right after such a thrilling night of exploration. But sex wasn’t really their problem.

She lay awake, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. Sunlight crept into the lavish room. Dawn was spilling over the horizon when she finally felt the king stir.

The witch’s stomach jolted.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he mumbled into the pillow before rolling over to face her.

He was smiling, a full ecstatic grin that wasn’t in any way mischievous. Breya remained on her back as he reached for her, tracing his fingers along the curve of her bare shoulder.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “How did you sleep?”

“Perfectly," he replied, propping himself up on his elbow.

His hair was released from its bindings, an immaculate, golden torrent of lushness. Breya was sure that it was a rare sight, even for the servants and housekeepers who had been employed by him for years. His beauty was undeniable, nearly forcing her devout conviction to shrink.

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