Page 60 of Burn

The two of us. Always the two of us, at the beginning and end.

20

Poet

The sound of a log splitting nudged me from sleep. But it was the knowledge of who rested next to me that fully roused my senses, including the rascal hardening like a pole between my hips.

A drowsy groan rumbled from my chest as I reached out to claim Briar. For although we’d plastered ourselves to each other after the third orgasm, she’d wiggled too far away from me sometime during the night. Unconsciously, of course. No mortal ever disentangled themself from this jester on purpose.

That aside, the mattress was big enough to accommodate an orgy, plus a dozen different positions I hadn’t yet sprung on her. I was nothing, if not flexible. In any case, it wouldn’t be difficult for Briar to shift from me whilst sleeping.

Armed with several naughty, decadent, obscene, and downright lecherous ideas of how to awaken the princess—which involved a multitude of erogenous zones—my hand extended to grasp a bare hip or thigh.

Fie and fuck. My digits found only a bundle of quilts instead, the pile void of her warmth. Blearily, my eyes peeled open to find the princess’s side of the bed empty.

Unacceptable. Twisting in all my naked splendor, I sprawled onto my back and bracketed my elbows on the mattress. Rising partway off the bed, I scanned my suite, from the gold mirror above the fireplace, to the bookshelf filled with sonnets and erotica, to the deep green accents and silk pillows. Eventide filtered through the stained glass window, and the hearth blazed. One of the stumps had broken in two, sparks flitting over the grate. That accounted for the disturbance that had initially woken me.

Best of all, this: Our clothing littered the floor in the most sumptuous trail.

Yet no princess in sight. Leave it to this ambitious woman to leap into action before fully basking in the afterglow. Likely, I would find her trussed up in a robe and tucked away with a stack of books or seated at her desk, pouring over ledgers and notes on the court’s current state.

This, at past midnight. That, according to the timepiece on my mantel—a product of Winter, forged by their engineers.

Ah, my stubborn workaholic heiress. With a groan, I flopped onto the quilt and crossed my arms over my eyes in delicious misery, because let’s not forget I was a man of verse. We excelled in dramatics.

But then, I shifted upright. Hunching over, I draped my arms over my upturned knees, a thought occurring to me. At once, my lips slanted. I knew where to find my thorn.

Stepping into a pair of loose pants, I padded barefoot from the bedroom and crossed the sitting area, then sauntered into the bath chamber where a door led to an adjourning suite. Migrating through the smaller assortment of quarters, I paused just inside the nursery’s bedroom.

At the threshold, I leaned one shoulder against the frame. And there, I watched them.

In my son’s bed, Briar and Nicu lay curled up like a pair of intertwined ribbons, with Tumble coiled like a furry snail between them. The night sky cast the trio in pearlescent light, their breaths rose and fell in tandem, and their exhalations floated through the space. The final book in Briar’s series lay tucked in the crook of her arm, signaling they must have snuck in an extra chapter.

Fuck it all, witnessing this private sight was like taking a sledgehammer to the chest. Each night since our return, Nicu had been riled up more spectacularly than a firework, blowing through his energy until bedtime. But whilst I’d love for the princess and him to indulge for as long as they wished, Nicu had suffered from poor sleep in Briar’s absence. He couldn’t afford more deprivation.

Routinely, it took several recitations of verse to get Nicu into bed, then another handful for him to fall asleep, then yet another tug-of-war to coax Briar from the room before my son could wake up again. But no sooner did I put a temporary pause on lovemaking tonight, than Briar had scurried back to Nicu’s side. And no sooner did I recline into the doorframe than her eyelids flapped open, and her gaze drifted to mine, landing there without pause.

Locating me in the doorway, she lifted her mouth into a lazy, peaceful grin. It would shift into a pragmatic, ambitious frown of concentration by the next morning. But for now, I consumed the view. Propping one elbow and resting her temple against her palm, the princess watched me.

At my inquiring brow, a bashful flush painted her cheeks. Briar returned her attention to Nicu’s sleeping face and whispered, “I just want to look at him.”

“Get used to it,” I intoned. “’Tis a perpetual instinct amid parents.”

“Parents,” she echoed in a trance whilst tucking a lock behind his ear, which had a slightly pointed tip. ’Twas yet another facet of his faeish appearance and one of my favorites. “Is that what I am? A parent?”

“If you’d like,” I responded, my voice rough and sounding rather drunk, her question intoxicating my senses. Blood surged to my nether regions—another eternal reflex regarding this woman—although my swollen dick had already deflated prior to entering Nicu’s room. The last thing I needed was to explain that mystery to my son, on the rare chance he should wake up.

Nonetheless, Briar’s words threatened to resurrect the problem.

“If I’d like,” she repeated quietly, as though I’d tempted her with forbidden magic. Glimpsing me in the doorway, Briar’s wistful expression cleared in favor of something even more devoted. “He must decide.”

When Nicu was ready and comfortable. During a heated fight with me, months ago in the castle’s pear orchard, Briar had nearly referred to herself as Nicu’s mother. She’d cut herself off at the last second, but the word had lingered in the air between us, seducing me on the spot.

Be that as it may, Briar set aside her own wishes. She wanted Nicu to determine their relationship, to choose whether to call her his mother.

Damn this woman. I shook my head, unable to fathom how she’d come into being.

“Careful, Highness,” I husked. “Any more of this perfection, and my cock will cease to behave.”

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