Page 33 of Essence of the Throne

It was years later before I realized just what Isaiah’s intentions were with the relentless antagonizing. I’d been on an assignment—taking out someone who thought he’d been successful in stealing from his employer—when the realization struck. The man shouted vulgar names at me,as they do, and instead of my blade already being inches deep into his throat, I stood un-moving and watched him squirm when he didn’t get a reaction from me.

Patience, Ari.

Two words I’d heard from Isaiah almost every day for years, and until that moment, I didn’t notice how he ceased repeating them months prior. It may have been foolish for him to test me so often, but his methods were effective. I gained a deeper respect for my friend that day—just before I sliced the throat of my target.

But that was Isaiah. The prince does not seem to hold the same intentions as he pinches my chin and forces my dazed eyes back to his. His smirk grows with whatever he sees on my face, and I’m certain he’s about to increase his taunts.

“Do you have a death wish?” I spit, venom prevalent in my tone. He opens his mouth to speak, but my fingers close the distance between us to scrunch his lips together. “I am in no mood for your petty games, Caspian. Go annoy the trees if you are that bored; or, better idea, shut the fuck up.” His dark lashes lower over increasingly playful irises, and my eyes roll as I shove his head back and spin to stalk away.

I squeal—squeal—when a hand wraps around my throat and yanks me back into a distractingly hard chest. My fingers itch to reach for the prince’s grip, though I force them to still. He’s not squeezing enough to cut off my air, but just enough that my lips part to compensate.

If I’m honest with myself for just a moment, I am intrigued. His hold is not malicious, nor does the bulge against my backside indicate he means harm…no, his grip is carnal. Possessive.

“I don’t think so, angel,” he breathes as soft lips graze my left ear. His free hand slides around my waist, flattening against myabdomen before fusing my back to his chest. My body’s reaction is immediate, threatening to melt under his rapt attention.

Fuck, the things this man does to me shouldn’t be possible.

“You want to try that again? Or should I just punish you right now for being so fucking frustrating the last few days?”

I shift, chuckling at his words. “Punish me? As if I’d ever let you do such a thing.” I would, but the cocky bastard behind me does not need to know that.

I bite my top lip—hard—when he presses the lightest kiss just under my ear. I cannot hold myself still much longer, and if he continues…

“Somehow I don’t think youlettingme would be the problem,” he remarks. His hand squeezes harder, a barely perceptible movement.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

My eyes roll when he smiles against my neck. “You may still act as though I do not affect you, lying effortlessly through your teeth and solidifying that blank mask on your face. But your body cannot deceive, angel. I feel the effort it takes for you to swallow each time I kiss you here.” He provides an example, and I am no longer aware of anything outside the scorching places our bodies connect. “I feel how your pulse increases the more I touch you. How you’re trying so hard to breathe normally, but fail to suppress the rapid rise and fall of your chest. A cute effort, really, but pointless.” The hand on my stomach drags so fucking slowly up and up until it reaches my chin, pulling my headto the side so that my eyes meet his. “I bet you’re already dripping for me. Shall we find out?”

I shiver as his fingers trail down between my breasts, over my abdomen before hooking just under my shirt to reach the top of my pants. I tense as one finger inches under the hem, and he drags it languidly across the slick skin, remaining under the fabric but never venturing lower. As if he isn’t at all affected by this, while the loud beating of my heart rivals the sounds of the forest.

Caspian’s lips press against my ear as he removes one finger from his grip on my throat to caress the delicate space above my airway—a reminder of the power he holds. So much more than the physical piece of me under his hands.

He knows it, though I will never admit it.

But the cocky fucking bastard chuckles as if I expressed every thought out loud and presses on my lower abdomen until the ridiculously hard length of him is the only thing I can feel.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Ari,” he placates in a teasing manner as the flat of his hand drifts toward my center. “I know you can feel that I want you just as badly. More, if we’re being truthful.”

“You’ve no Angel-damned idea what you’re talking about. The day I want you is the day I decide to never pick up a blade again.” His hand pauses its exploration, and I almost regret letting the lies slip from between my lips.

Almost.

“You don’t, huh?” His hold on my throat tightens. “I suppose I will just stop touching you, then. My apologies, angel.” Thefingers on my abdomen trail back up, andfuck me. I know I shouldn’t give in or fall for his ridiculous taunting—but I do. His smile grows wide when I move to grip his wrist, stopping it from abandoning its original path.

No one—no one—has ever made me feel the way he does. I want to fight it. Push against his every advance until he’s sick of pining for me.

I want to shove him so far away from me that there’s no chance he could burrow inside my heart and break me from the isolation I’ve thrived in for so many years.

But I know that would be a fool’s mission. He’s already carved a place for himself, and fuck if I don’t want to give him so much more.

And yet, how can I? It would ruin everything that I have worked for. To let him in fully—to let myself change—would be to lose focus of what we’re here to do. Right? It would be impractical to feel so deeply for him.

It would mean I’ve failed.

I do not need feelings for this, though. I can allow him to pleasure me in the ways we both so desperately want without crossing that hazy line I drew between our hearts.

So I give in.

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