Page 36 of A Cage of Magic and Darkness

Tears shimmer in my eyes, blurring the room around me. I blink them away, not wanting her to see me cry. It’s not as though she hasn’t seen me at my most vulnerable times before, but things have changed now. I’m not only a princess; I’m going to be queen.

She continues to brush my hair in long, soothing strokes, and I close my eyes. I tell myself that I’m allowed to be troubled—it would be strange if I weren’t. Just because I’m to be queen doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to experience emotions like everyone else. It’s just how I react to them that must be different.

When I’m ready for bed, Skylar leaves me.

I’m completely exhausted, and, though I have a lot on my mind, I’m sure I’ll fall straight to sleep.

I crawl beneath the covers, and though the mattress is soft and the blankets warm, I toss and turn. The loss of my mother—something I’ve been trying hard not to think about all day—swells up inside and overwhelms me. Now I’ve got nothing to distract me, grief clutches at my heart. I can’t fully comprehend that I’m never going to see her again.

A whimper of pain escapes me, followed by a great, gulping sob.

I cry with my face pressed against the pillow and my fingers clutching the sheets. I cry until utter exhaustion has taken hold, and finally, the depths of sleep call me.

I dreamof the castle shaking around me. I’m barefoot in my room, barely keeping my balance. The stone floor collapses and drops away. The ceiling comes down around my ears, and then I’m falling, falling, falling?—

I jerk myself awake. Someone is screaming, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s me.

I clamp my mouth shut, silencing myself.

Balthorne and Skylar must have been exhausted, too, not to have heard me from their rooms down the hall, but then the bedroom door flies open.

“Princess? Are you all right?”

But it’s not Balthorne, or Skylar. It’s Ruarok.

My heartbeat gradually slows, and I take a deep, shaky breath. “Yes, I’m sorry. It was just a bad dream.”

He doesn’t wait to be invited, but instead kicks the door shut behind him and strides across the room. His black shirt is open, revealing the muscles of his pecs and abs beneath. On his bottom half he’s wearing loose pants. He sits on the side of my bed and then reaches out to take my hand. The boldness of his actions shocks me. I’ve never had a man sit on my bed before, not even Balthorne. That he’s semi-undressed also makes me nervous.

“You’re safe,” he tells me.

I should pull away from him, but I can’t. All my focus is on where our skin meets, fingers to fingers, palm to palm. He seems to sense me staring, but instead of pulling away, he leans in. He reaches out with his other hand and smooths my hair away from my face, and I’m conscious that it’s slightly damp from my sweat. His hand lingersthere, stroking my hair just as Skylar had been doing with the brush before bed.

The energy between us is charged. I’m not sure I can breathe, and I’ve completely forgotten about my nightmare. All that exists is this moment between us.

A warning bell sounds in my head—this is your stepbrother, and he’s an Incubus!—but I completely ignore it.

Slowly, cautiously, as though he’s giving me the time to stop him, he leans in and brushes his lips to mine. They’re soft, and warm, and he smells so good, of fresh soap and a hint of smoke from the fire.

Every part of my brain screams that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t let him do this for so many reasons, but my body is alight and greedy for him. Is that because of what he is? Is he working his magic on me right now?

His kiss grows firmer, and I part my lips, some instinct in me wanting to find his tongue with mine. Our tongues tangle, and I think I might just die from desire. Who even am I?

Excitement fizzes through me. I shift my position slightly, to bring myself onto my knees, and wrap my arms around his neck. We’re still kissing, our tongues dancing now, the passion growing between us. I press myself against the hard muscles of his chest, aware there’s only a slip of material separating us. Heat pools between my thighs. My nipples harden and crinkle beneath my nightgown. He seems to sense this as his hand leaves my hair to cup one of my breasts over my clothes. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I gasp into his mouth.

Have I been longing for this moment, ever since we danced all those years ago? I’d felt this energy between us even then.

He kisses me harder and pinches my stiff nipple between his finger and thumb. It’s hard enough to hurt, but the sensation seems to have a direct line to my pussy. I squeeze my thighs together, increasing the pleasure.

Is it real, though? Or is this how everyone feels when they’re with an Incubus? It’s as though I’m drugged, and he’s become my addiction. After all the pain and fear and grief of the past twenty-four hours, all I want is to forget everything and allow this to happen.

Ruarok breaks the kiss. “I want to touch you, Princess. I want to push my fingers inside you and hear you come.”

No one has ever spoken to me in such a way before, and I whimper at the thought. Can he tell how much I long for his touch, though I can’t bring myself to give voice to the words? I’ve never told a man what I want before.

I think of his cock, how big and long it is. Has it grown again now, just by kissing me? I can’t seem to help myself. I reach down and cover him with my hand, just as he’s covering my breasts. Dear gods, he is hard, and by the feel of him, fully hard, too.

He sucks air in over his teeth.

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