Page 61 of Burn

“Shush,” Briar hissed whilst bolting upright and placing a finger to her lips, a scandalized blush setting fire to her freckles. “He’s right here.”

“And I’m righthere,” I flirted, amused and more experienced in Nicu’s sleeping habits. It would take an explosion to pull him from dreams.

Besides, that flush wasn’t purely out of discretion. When I first swaggered in here, I’d seen how Briar’s gaze had gone molten, traveling down my torso, to my navel, to the low waistline of my pants, which exposed the V of my hips.

I crossed my arms and let my velveteen voice ooze into the room. “Who said you could sneak off without my permission, Princess?”

Her flustered expression intensified. “He did,” she confided, nudging her chin at Nicu. “As a matter of fact, this fae commands attention even in his sleep. I could not help myself, unable to stay away.”

“Ah,” I mused. “The true ruler of our court.”

Briar’s grin faltered, reflecting hope and doubt. Successors didn’t have to be blood related, much less born into the line. Though it was preferred, alternatives existed in The Dark Seasons. Royals had the liberty to appoint whomever they wished, provided the heir or heiress suited the role. From there, the selection required council and military approval. If not a birthright, the decision had to be unanimous.

We were fighting for rights like this, for every human. But even if Nicu had a chance of winning that approval in the future, that didn’t mean it was his destiny. Briar would designate him someday—if it became possible, if Nicu could handle such a life, and if he embodied the role of leader.

Most importantly, if he wanted that fate. And provided our crusade triumphed in that timeframe, which was less likely. What we planned might take generations. There was no telling if we’d see that day come to fruition, or if we would simply be the spark that fueled the centuries ahead.

“Papa,” Nicu’s small voice drifted into the chamber. “Briar Patch.”

Our heads dove toward my son, whose eyes remained closed. Only half-awake, he mumbled, “Are we going castle faring now?”

“He means ‘exploring’,” I explained when Nicu fell back into slumber.

“Oh.” Briar’s face softened. “I once told him about exploring these halls at night with my father. He must remember the conversation.”

“Nicu remembers everything,” I reminded her.

Briar nodded. “With his condition, do you think it would be possible? To do that without him getting lost?”

“You once took Nicu into The Wandering Fields without leading him astray.”

“That was different,” she said, recalling that day. “Our intentions were pure, so the fields wouldn’t have entrapped us. Also, I’d chosen a row with a dead end. The wings, levels, and towers of this castle are another matter entirely.”

“I think you two are a force to be reckoned with. Try and let anything stop you.”

Reassured, Briar contemplated. “I would like to do that with him. If there’s a way.” Then she brightened. “Wait.”

Scooting from the bed, Briar bunched the blankets around my son. Then she shuffled toward me on quick limbs, grabbing my wrist and dragging me from Nicu’s bedroom. She ushered us from the nursery and through the foyer hall. Hastening past the guards who pretended not to notice, Briar urged me into her suite and shut the doors.

At her sudden enthusiasm, low chuckles rolled from the back of my throat. “My, my, my. So eager,” I purred as we climbed the athenaeum stairs to her study loft. “What ambition does to your sex drive.”

“Not that.” Briar whirled, smacking my arm as we reached the landing. “Expand your mind for once tonight.”

“Perish the thought,” I snarled playfully from behind, seizing the waist of her nightgown with one hand and sliding the strap down her shoulder with the other.

The princess’s censorious huff dissolved into a moan, her head flinging backward as my lips snatched her neck and sucked. Wringing her arms up and across my nape, I burrowed in. My tongue lashed at her skin, pausing once to mumble, “I plan on expanding your mind, your thighs, and your pretty cunt several times over before the sun is up.”

“Which is in three hours—” Her protest tapered into a whimper as I licked and snacked on her flesh. “Oh, curse your tongue.” On a breathy grunt, Briar pried herself away, her pupils not yet glazed enough for me to do permanent damage. “If you keep touching me to the point of distraction, I shall not forgive you. Focus and make haste, jester.”

She planted a consolatory peck on my mouth, then tugged me to her desk. Throwing herself into the chair, Briar moved with purpose. In quick succession, she lit a candle, then selected a quill and a leaflet of parchment.

Almighty Seasons, she was right. From the moment I saw this princess again, months of repression had resulted in a perpetual cockstand, and I’d metamorphosed into a demon-lover with cravings that would put a fucking incubus out of business. Not that I was apologizing for this, but shit.

Chagrined, I scrubbed my face and forced myself to concentrate. It wasn’t as difficult as I had predicted once I registered the markings Briar sketched onto the paper. It was a rendering of the Royal wing, followed by additional sections of the castle, each one furnished with lines that connected throughout.

Swiftly, I identified the delineations. My chest warmed at the sight of cords weaving through the blueprint.

“Well, well,” I marveled, grasping the back of Briar’s chair and leaning over her. “Those look familiar.”

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