Page 43 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

The game dies a quick death after the deep moment of blood-letting and finger-sucking. It’s hard to find the fun mood afterthat, and Nemeth, clearly out of his element, returns to tending the fire. Instead of teasing him about it more, I let him retreat. If he was Balon or one of my suitors, I’d keep hounding him until I got the response I wanted—either an angry, passionate kiss, or a heartfelt confession—but I’m not going to push too far with the Fellian. He’s my friend, and I don’t like the idea of making him so uncomfortable that he wants to retreat from my presence. Something tells me that if I kept needling Nemeth, it wouldn’t break his resolve and turn into a passionate kiss. He doesn’t know how the game is played. He’d probably storm out of the room and not speak to me for a week, thinking I was teasing him out of cruelty.

I’d much rather us be friends. So I cradle my pepper-studded onion in my hands, and we talk of nothing at all for the rest of the night, until it’s time for bed.

All in all, not so terrible a holiday. When we go to bed, I’m happy, even if my hands do smell like onions and pepper despite washing them.

I wake up in the middle of the night to a strange, jarringly loud clattering noise. It’s dark in the room, the fire having gone out, and so cold it feels like my entire body is made of ice. It takes a moment for me to realize that the constant clicking sound is my teeth. I shiver wildly in the bed despite the layers of blankets and the thick dress I’m wearing.

“Candra?” A large hand grips my arm. Nemeth, in bed next to me. “Are you all right?”

“C-cold,” I manage, my teeth chattering. “Why is it so c-cold?”

He shifts in the bed and I see green eyes blink to life in the darkness. “The fire is out. I could light another, but we should conserve our fuel. Do you need another blanket?”

“H-have them all,” I manage, my jaw trembling. “How is it so cold?”

“One last storm before the end of winter, perhaps? Maybe the Green Goddess isn’t ready to return from the Gray God’s realm just yet.” He rubs my arm. “Do you want to get under the blankets with me? Share warmth?”

Do I?

I thought he’d never ask.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Iall but fling the blankets back the moment he suggests we share warmth, tugging his blankets over me. We’ve had two separate sets of blankets all this time even though we share a bed, simply because it was more comfortable for both of us to have our own space. I don’t care a bit about space tonight, though. Not when I’m freezing and my toes feel like icicles.

I plunge under his blankets, my hands seeking out his to share warmth. He’s turned towards me in bed, and my seeking hands encounter bare chest and muscles. Lots and lots of muscles.

I pause, not because I’m shy, but because I know he is. “Are you naked?”

“I am wearing an undergarment.” His voice is oddly tense in the darkness.

“Okay, good.” I slither forward. “Because you’re really warm and I’m going to put my hands on you.”

He remains still as I move against him, settling myself in. His big body is enormous against mine, dominating the bed. I press up against him, my front to his front, my hands tucking between our bellies for warmth, and I curl my legs up against his.

“Better?” he asks, and there’s a little more ease in his tone.

“Much,” I murmur, and lean in, breathing in his warm scent as he settles my blankets over his, enveloping us in a cocoon. My jaw unlocks and no longer shivers with distress, and all of me relaxes. He smells like herbs and woodsmoke from tending to the fire, and it’s actually quite a lovely smell on his skin. I’m tempted to burrow my nose into his neck and just breathe in from there all night. “Thank you, Nemeth.”

He grunts. “Your chattering was keeping me awake.”

I just smile against his chest. He’s trying to sound stern and grumpy, but I know him better than that. He hovers over me, watching me as if I’m some fragile thing that’s going to break at any moment. I think my blood curse scares him and makes him think I’m more vulnerable than I am. As long as I get my daily medicine, I’m fine. But if he wants to fuss over me? I’ll let him.

My feet are still cold, so I draw my legs up and tuck them between his legs. I’m wearing a heavy dress for warmth, but despite all this, our knees bump. His legs fit together with mine strangely, and he shifts his weight, trying to get comfortable. Right. Time to spoon, then. I roll over, presenting him with my back, and then grab his arm and put it around my waist, tucking myself against him once more. “Better?”

He grunts again.

This time, when I move my feet back and tuck them between his legs, it’s far more comfortable for both of us. I’m half-curled but I like it, because he’s curled around my back, one of his heavy hips practically over mine. I don’t know if he’s aware that he’s pinning me to the mattress, but I like it. I like his weight over me, hugging me against him. The hand on my waist practically covers me from breast to groin, and I’m fascinated with how much larger his hand is than mine. His feet are enormous, too, now that I think about it.

I shift my weight, pressing my backside up against him.

Just as I suspected, there’s a hard wedge of cock there between his thighs, pressing up against my amply padded butt. The hand on my waist tightens, as if he wants to hold me in place. My senses are utterly, wildly alert. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to sleep now, with his thumb-claw practically brushing my breasts and his cock pushing against my buttocks. Perhaps a better woman than me could ignore this, but I’ve always been a bit of a mess.

I move my hips back and forth in a deliberate manner, just because I’m the worst.

I’d love for him to grab me tighter. To haul my skirts up and push my thighs apart and just claim me. To grind his cock against my backside until he comes. Heated, delicious fantasies fill my head and I know some of it is the late hour and some of it is my enforced celibacy, but right now? All I can think about is how good it would feel if he drove me down into the mattress and used me.

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