Page 110 of The Princess's Chosen

I squeezed my lips shut around the bitter thoughts swirling in my head and hurried down the steps, aware of Daniel's keen stare, and Owen's, and hell, probably even some of the men still in Danser Hall. I stepped into the carriage, sighing at its cool darkness against the heat of embarrassment and rejection in my cheeks, and then slid to the far side as the carriage rocked and Daniel joined me. I pulled the curtain shut and then twisted, pressing myself into the man at my side as the door clicked shut behind him.

Daniel stiffened briefly, and then his arm wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me closer with one hand and tugging his own curtain shut with the other.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine. Wrung out," I admitted, tipping my head back and finding my face against Daniel's throat, the prickle of his beard catching in my hair. I inhaled a long gulp of him, finding an intriguing combination of smells there, sharp and warm and dark. His skin broke out in goosebumps as I released my sigh, and I wet my lips, just barely flicking my tongue against his throat and smiling at the hard swallow that followed.

"Are you all right?" I echoed, reaching up and sliding my hand into his jacket to rest my palm over his heart as the carriage jerked forward and began to pull away from Danser Hall.

"Me? I am…liberated is I think the term for it," Daniel murmured, his own hand coming up to cover mine.

"Do you think you'll have regrets?" I asked, frowning and thinking of his father's words. Daniel had answered them valiantly, but to give up a lifelong dream of being the independent owner of such an estate seemed like the kind of thing someone might second-guess.

"Not as many as I think Roderick and the duke will have," Daniel said, although his laugh sounded a little ragged.

I sat up, and his arms squeezed around my waist, holding me to his side and making me smile as I studied him. There were little flecks of gray at Daniel's temples, and I reached up to brush my fingertips against them now, watching the way his eyelids grew heavy at the simple touch. I'd noticed it the night Emory had tried to kill me when I'd staked my claim on Daniel in his rooms. This man craved touch, soaked it up with a desperate relief that reminded me of the Hunger. He leaned into it now, his heart pounding under my palm on his chest as I dug my fingers into his hair.

I realized in that moment that with most of my Chosen, I received a kind of care. Owen offered pure affection, Cosmo emotional strength, Wendell and Thao their political guidance, and Aric seemed to tame me and my magic. Daniel might've been of some use against the council, but that had nothing to do with this craving I had for him. It was the opposite, really. What drew me to Daniel was his obviousneed, not for sex but for care, and for belonging, for someone to say 'you are part of me.'

"Will you have regrets?" Daniel asked, wincing.

"No," I said immediately, smiling at the small gasp he admitted.

"Not even… Something passed between you and Stark," Daniel said, his heavy focus studying me carefully. It'd seemed aggressive when he first arrived at the Winter Palace, but I suspected now he was just used to trying to find truths from a community of people who thought it was easier to lie to him.

"Cresswell feels he does me more good as my head guard than one of my Chosen," I said, shrugging. "You don't need to worry about that."

Daniel frowned and laughed a little, a small huff. "Why not both? Wendell is your advisor, I am your steward, Owen is practically your groundskeeper."

I wrinkled my nose at that, but I couldn't argue. "I can't ask you all not to have your own lives. As long as you're satisfied with the—Oh, Daniel, do you even like being the steward?" I asked, stiffening in his arms.

"I do, actually," he said, leaning in and hesitating for a moment before bravely closing the gap and skimming his lips over mine. "I like to be busy. And despite my best efforts, Lady Pru is impossible not to get along with. I enjoy working with her."

I beamed and brushed my nose against his again. "Oh, good."

"Your Highness—"

"Bryony."

"Mm, Bryony," he said very slowly, batting long lashes at me. "I'm sorry your guard hasn't come to his senses yet. But I'm very grateful to be alone with you on this carriage ride."

"What you said to your father—"

"I meant it," Daniel whispered, leaning in again and grazing his mouth against mine.

"I know," I said, clutching my hand over his heart, squirming my hips closer to his as the Hunger stirred restlessly in my chest.

"Bryony—"

I should've let him speak. There was probably more to say between us, more to settle, but with every little press of those swollen lips of his to mine, I needed more. I seized it then, holding his face with my free hand, my body arching to his as I sucked on his lips and he answered in kind.

After Daniel and I had sex weeks ago, I'd spent a fair amount of effortnotthinking about every little detail of the experience. The size of Daniel's hands as they spanned my waist, the deep flavor of him on my tongue, the way my hips stretched as I settled over his lap. He dragged me there now, our mouths fused in an endless kiss, my fingers digging into his shirt and through his hair. Daniel groaned as he pulled me against his groin, the top of my head just brushing against the roof of the carriage, bumping against it as he bucked a little.

I broke away with a giggle, my hand on his chest going to the roof and Daniel gaping at me and then flushing as he glanced up.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," I said, bending and nipping at his mouth again. Those lips were sinful and pillowy like Cook Umber's best cakes.

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