Page 22 of Heir to His Court

“On your knees,” he said, the command silken, and he every inch the imperious Prince, pushing me down, his eyes brilliant with challenge, dark with want.

I went willingly, undoing clothing until I freed his cock, my hand trembling as I wrapped my fingers around his length. He threw back his head, the tendons in his neck stiff.

“This time,” he said, voice guttural, “this time, I will not stop you.”

I looked up at him. “This time I won't allow you to stop me.”

With his order, and my promise, I took him deep into my throat, relishing his taste, still trembling as the slick of my cum soaked my panties.

He slammed a hand into the tree, bits of bark cascading down from the force of it as he braced himself. The other he dug into my hair, his talons scraping my scalp, controlling my pace.

I fucked him with my mouth, ignoring my gag reflex, moaning deep as I tasted the salty sweet liquid dripping on my tongue. I massaged his heavy sacs with my free hand, almost laughing at the sounds he made.

Laughing until he roared and spilled down my throat, grinding against my face—as if he even needed to force me to drink him down. His mind blanketed mine in a rush, enveloping me in the mental cocoon of his desire and feral possessiveness, the vulnerability of his current position. The heady power he gave over to me in this moment, abandoning all guard as he succumbed to pleasure given by a Vowed enemy. Of the fear edged with ruthlessness—he would allow nothing to take me from him.

Couldallow nothing. He had Vowed it—a fleeting wisp of memory I would tease to the surface later.

I supped on every last drop of his come, not caring that I struggled to breathe, not caring that his free hand tightened in my hair. I cared only that he was mine, and I needed him as desperately as he needed me. That I was spiraling to the same abyss where he happily splashed in pools of mad anguish, where I was willing to abandon everything else. . .for him. It wasn't healthy, it wasn't sane. The twisted, tangled bond between us pulsed, flooding with warmth as he flooded me with seed, the brittle, flaking shell smoothing in places, knots unraveling.

Then he was pulling away and drawing me to my feet, the look in his eyes stealing my laughter.

“I know you love me,” he said. “I know you hate me. I know you long for my touch as violently as you long for my death.” I stilled as his voice enveloped me. The voice of forest smoke and blackened stars. Of poisoned wine and sweet summer fruit. “But know that all of your love, all of your fear, is in me a thousand fold. I have never felt either more keenly. If I have mishandled what I feel, what I fear, it was not done to cause you pain.”

The Prince slid slowly to his knees in front of me, his hair blending into the night and sliding down his shoulders, his beauty sharp and otherworldly. Even among High Fae, he was exquisite. For a moment I saw him as a human might, and if his words had not already taken my breath, then his face, his hands on my thighs, would have.

“See how I kneel before you. See how you have leashed me.”

His talons flashed, infinite deadliness bound by exquisite control, shredding cloth until I was naked. He pressed my arms against the sides of the tree and I remained still, invisible bands holding me for his pleasure. Well. . .for mine.

Somehow, I found the will to speak. “But are you the one leashed, Prince?”

He lowered his head, kissing the inside of my thigh as he pushed my legs open. “You call, and I come. You speak, and I listen whether I will it or no. You cry, and I sup on your tears and seek to destroy what caused your hurt. I can barely separate from your mind because when parted I feel the loss like a dagger in my chest. What is that, my Lady, if not a leash?”

I shook my head. “I do not want it.”

“It is yours nonetheless.”

“What did I do to cause this?”

“You were born.”

A beat, two, three of unmoving silence. He was saying there had never been hope of escape, even when I had thought I wanted it. He was saying that no matter what path my life took, it would inevitably lead to him. “You are the beast that will rip off the head of its master then.”

He smiled, a sly curve of lips. “Perhaps. You always did have a high tolerance for risk, Aerinne. I am the ultimate risk. The ultimate reward.”

I lifted my brows. “If you are the risk and reward in this relationship, what does that make me?”

“My death, or my salvation. Though I do not believe it is one or the other. I believe it is both. You are. . .a conundrum.”

No, no. I would not allow this. He kissed his way up my thigh as I struggled with myself.

“I cannot be your salvation, Raniel.” The words tore out of me. “I do not want that responsibility. You’ve already made me your executioner.” I laughed. “This is madness! How can I be both? How can you even ask it of me? It is barely a request. Youdemand.”

Renaud didn’t speak, didn’t defend the paradox. Instead, he latched his mouth onto my clit, biting into me as ifIwas the poisoned wine,Ithe sweet summer fruit. He pushed my body off a cliff, and I plunged into emptiness, nothing to slow my plummet. Somehow my right leg ended up draped over his shoulder, his tongue bringing me to complete ruin.

I screamed, and this time he was the one laughing, deep and wild, a ghostly croon on the wind traveling along my bared skin, leaves scattering to the ground.

“My people will hear you. They will probably smell you, too.”

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