Page 25 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
I stand, the spell briefly broken, and cross the room to usher the server in. He wheels in a cart laden with covered dishes, thescent of fresh bread and eggs wafting in. I sign the receipt, thank him, and close the door before turning back to Théo. Watching me, he hasn’t moved, his gaze sharper now—as if unraveling a puzzle only he can decipher.
We share the meal without words; thesilence deliberate, comfortable even. A shiver trails down my spine when I catch him stealing furtive glancesin my direction, certain I don’t notice. As he sips his freshly squeezed orange juice, his hand roams along the side of his glass, hovering just beyond what I’d consider natural.
When the plates are empty, I’m not surprised that the air turns back to suffocating. Even I—unaccustomed to breathing as mortals do—feel it settle deep in my core.
My new favorite human sets his fork down and looks at me, his expression unreadable.
“It’s funny that you keep going in circles, alternating between believing my tale or thinking I should be locked up.” I chuckle. Look who’s talking! I, too, am going in circles, oscillating between how wrong this unlikely pairing is and how right our undeniable chemistry would feel.
“I can think of one way to find out if you’re real,” he says, his voice soft but steady.
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. In great need of support, I push my ass as far into the corner of the Chesterfield as possible, willing my stubborn dick to stop throbbing inside my baggy pants. Absentmindedly, I cross my legs. Wrinkles be damned. “And what’s that?”
He hesitates, then scoots closer until his knee meets mine. Still facing the coffee table rather than me, he leans sideways. I hitcha strangled breath. His shoulder rests against mine. His lips tickle my earlobe. His voice is barely a whisper. “In fairytales, it’s often a kiss that enlightens the princess.”
My pulse trips over itself. He’s a strange mix of reserved and bold, and I want nothing more than to grant him his fairytale.
No matter that he’s human. No matter that I’m not. No matter that Eros set this in motion. Thank fuck, Théo hasn’t brought up the sting. Not then. Not now. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a ticking clock, awaiting something—or someone other than me—to jog his memory and send him spiraling.
But am I remembering this right?
Either way, I wouldn’t want him to believe that I’m not 100% into kissing him. Yesterday’s little adventure propelled us into an intimacy that I wouldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams.
I have no regrets, even though Eros traitorously aimed at us while we were near the banks, ignoring the human nature of the man beside me. What I told Hecate was accurate: Eros broke the rules. I’ll pin him down for a little heart-to-heart to get to the bottom of his rationale. You see, Eros’s gift is sensing a connection between individuals. His arrow—or whatever else he uses—never forces Mother Nature. Browsing the Internet and social media with my newly acquired cell phone, I read about the concept of insta love… Well, I doubt that’s how Eros’s magic works. His skill may set awareness in motion, but the attraction blossoms on its own. Some call the phenomenon soulmates. But the thing is that I don’t have a soul, so calling Théo—a human at that—my soulmate would be a stretch. I push the thought aside. Soulmates or not, he’s here now, so I’d better take advantage of it.
“So, you’re the princess in this scenario?” I inquire, plastering on the most innocent look I can muster.
His hearty fit of laughter speaks to my uncooperative dick. He’s quick to recover; I’m not. “I’d be happy to, if you so wish, my prince.” His smile holds—small, resolute, and drenched in salacious promise.
The intensity coils low in my gut, drawing a growl to my lips. “I may be an actual prince, Théo, but I didn’t step out of a fairytale. Thought I’d remind you, in case you haven’t processed where I belong.”
“Don’t worry about me…”Oh, but I do, sweet Théo…“I’m a big boy.” That, he is. I stall, tilt my head, and study him. Almost as tall as me, which is not so common. Much leaner, which suits me to a T. And adorably grouchier, which challenges me to soften his edges.
“May I?”
I raise an eyebrow, baffled that a grown-ass man would be asking for permission. Unsure how to navigate the rules of attraction in this day and age, I pause, reveling in the anticipation of the forbidden kiss. Théo’s pupils widen, swallowing the light anew. The patches of red skin on his neck deepen, raw and alive. It’s fucking adorable.
I heave a sigh I didn’t realize I was holding. “Well, in that case… Be my guest.” My thumb brushes his cheek. “I’m all yours.” Shifting slightly to grant him easier access, I wink and open my arms in surrender. I can’t believe that I’m about to kiss a human. My memory blurs between what I might have dreamed of in the past and what truly happened. Who cares now? All I want isThéo. I want to feel everything this human has to offer and get lost in an ocean of long-forgotten sensations.
Neither of us moves, the world narrowing to the two of us. Our hooded gazes do the talking, while ragged gasps and thumping hearts—at least mine—thunder in our bubble.
In a gentle, almost reverent move, his lips brush against mine. This tentative touch awakens a yearning that I will myself to control with a frustrated grunt. That’s his call, not mine.
I ease us into a less awkward position while he tastes my lips. Licking. Nibbling. Grazing.
His unique essence is dizzying. It’s not merely that he’s strictly a human. It’shim. A fierce gravity hauls me in—unspoken, primal, and impossible to deny.
With my legs resting on the couch, Théo takes the hint, his initial hesitation fading, and straddles my right thigh.
Panting, he peppers kisses behind my earlobe while hastily unbuttoning my pastel dress shirt. The urgency in his voice shoots straight to my cock. “Mmm… I need to touch you, feel your skin against mine.”
I’m fully on board with that.
His bare chest crushes against mine. Eyeswide open, his mouth claims mine, and I open for him as his hands slide up to rest on my chest. I welcome the slight tremor in his touch. He smells like cinnamon—how?—danger—for sure—and temptation—definitely… but what strikes me the most is how the distinctive scent of the Underworld seeps through his smooth skin.
My hands caress his back, avoiding venturing too close to his waistband, which would escalate things much too quickly for my taste. Why rush it when we have all the time in the world to explore one another? And yet, my dick doesn’t cooperate, unabashedly rubbing against his knee to soothe the ache. Deep down, I’m well-aware that I want all of him: skin, scent, stubble, voice, mouth, teeth, arms, legs, fingers, nails, hands, tongue, cock.
Fuck, this guy is going to be the death of me… so to speak.
