Page 79 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

I nod, smiling shyly down at him. “I’m not all that familiar with love, so you might have to be patient with me.” Back at court, love is something that can be wielded against you by a lover or a gossip…or by my sister, who keeps trying to get me to kill Nemeth. I push thoughts of her away and cup Nemeth’s big, handsome face in my hands. “But I love you and I’m tired of saying no. I’m a girl that much prefers a good ‘yes.’” I wriggle my backside against him. “So…wanna have sex after I check out your wing?”

Nemeth runs his nose along the swell of my breast, sending skitters of pleasure through me. “Not until after we have the ceremony.”

“There’s a ceremony?” I pout.

“A Fellian ceremony,” he agrees. “On the night of the new moon.” He presses a kiss to the slope of my breast, and I’d give anything for him to tug my bodice down and take my nipple into his mouth in this moment. “Since we have no idea if the moon is rising, however, I’m inclined to say tomorrow is a good day.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though I’m throbbing with awareness between my thighs and I want this to be today. But I can wait for tomorrow. “Tomorrow, I’m yours.”

“All mine,” he agrees, and I love the covetous look on his face.

Chapter

Forty-Five

His wing is healing well, and so I get out my best dress and dampen the skirts to get some of the wrinkles out, pressing it under Nemeth’s heavier books to iron it. It’s still pitifully wrinkled, but there’s no instructions in my book on how to wash clothes without that happening. I fuss with my skirt for a bit, despairing over a wrinkle as big as a canyon, right down the front where my overdress artfully parts to show my pretty, pale-blue chemise underneath. I need something heavier to smooth the wrinkles out. There’s a huge book of war poetry that Nemeth often reads and it might do the trick. Glancing around our quarters, I look for the volume…

…and find it in Nemeth’s hands.

He sits by the fire, reading, his wounded wing slathered in ointment, the stitches an unpleasant-looking line across his beautiful wing. More than that, though, he straddles his favorite stool, his big body hunched over his book, one big hand skimming down a page, and I’m suddenly jealous of poetry.

I know we agreed to wait until tomorrow, but there’s nothing that says I can’t distract him right now.

“Nemeth,” I call sweetly, leaving my dress and stepping across the room toward him. “Can I trouble you for a moment?”

The Fellian straightens, sliding a ribbon between the pages and then closing his book. His eyes follow me as I stroll in his direction. “What is it?”

“I need to borrow your book.” I bend over and pluck the tome from his hands.

“You’re going to read it?”

I chuckle. “Don’t be silly.It needs to flatten the wrinkles out of my skirt.”

“Gods forbid that I catch you reading one of my books,” he teases as I move back to my dress and set the heavy book atop the offending wrinkle. “You…do know that books are for reading, yes?”

“So many big words,” I mock-pout, turning back to him. “You know it’s too much for me to take in. And you can just read something else while I keep your book busy.”

“Ah, but perhaps I was reading that one.” He tilts his head at me, a smile curving his hard mouth as I saunter toward him. “What are you up to?”

“I’m bored and lonely,” I say, sliding my arms around his neck. “And tomorrow seems very far away.”

His hands settle on my waist. “I know. But it is important to me that we honor my people’s customs.” His eyes are bright as he gazes at me. With him seated and me standing in front of him, we’re almost the same height. It just reminds me how very massive he is in comparison to my smaller form, and I find it incredibly appealing. “Surely one more day will not be so terrible. And then we will marry in the custom of the Fellian people.”

I should protest that we need to be married in the Liosian way as well, but I’m not feeling particularly inclined to claim my people, especially after my sister’s most recent (and mostdemanding) letter. “Very well. Tomorrow you will claim me as your bride. And tonight?”

“Tonight I will anticipate tomorrow,” he tells me, grinning.

I’m inclined to do more than just anticipate, though. “Unfortunately for you, I’m a very impatient sort of princess.” I run my hands down his broad, strong arms and then grab handfuls of my skirts. Before he can react, I climb onto his lap, and the hands loosely at my waist are suddenly clutching me tight. “There, that’s better,” I say as I straddle him. “Don’t you think?”

Nemeth is silent. His face is impassive as I settle in on his lap, my legs hanging over his thighs, my skirts bunched up to my waist. I feel small against him like this, and it reminds me that when he covers me in our bed, he’s going to truly cover me. His size is absolutely enormous, one hand practically spanning my back.

And that’s not the only part of him that’s enormous. I think about his cock, and the knot at his base, and I’m breathless. I flutter my lashes up at him, because this is now the territory of my favorite hobby—tormenting Nemeth. Not in a bad way, of course. I just love watching the need in his eyes as he gazes upon me. I love him hungrily devouring me with his eyes as if I’m a feast he can’t wait to dig into.

I wriggle on his lap, carefully hooking one heel behind his back, and then the other. I make sure not to brush his wings, and as if sensing what I’m doing, he lifts them out of the way, his gaze never leaving my face. “What are you doing, Candra?”

“I’m savoring,” I say, voice light. “Isn’t that what you want us to do? To savor the moment? Allow me to savor your body pressed to mine and think about what tomorrow will bring.”

I shimmy against him, pressing my sex against the rapidly hardening cock sandwiched between us.

---