Page 39

Typical royal male.Easily distracted by a female to bed. Taking pleasure whenever he desired, simply because he was born with gold dripping from his privileged body and power in his tainted blood. It was easier than she imagined it would be to distract him.

Alora arched her back, pushing her chest into him, swallowing hard at the feeling of the contact. Not entirely sure if the small moans escaping her mouth were a part of her illusion or if she nearly enjoyed this.

A broad hand softly brushed down to her shoulders. He released a pure, primal male groan against her lips, pebbling her skin and sending a heat pulsating between her legs.

Alora found herself traitorously rolling her hips when he moaned again, feeling him hard as iron against her.

What am I doing?Alora protested, registering the shudder of his body before his lips pulled away. Then his gaze speared her with a stirring of darkness. He was the Savage Prince. She needed to find a way to?—

He feverishly kissed her again.

—distract him, to?—

A pleasured growl reverberated from deep in his throat. They were close enough that she could almost feel the vibrations.

—make him drop his guard enough to …

Garrik’s hand slid down her body, lower, lower, lower.

Her neck stretched, abandoning all reason and slipping to the edge of insanity when those incredible lips trailed kisses down it.

Garrik loosened his grip on her forearms that he’d pinned above them and rubbed down her side. The invisible pressurerestraining her legs on the cot released as he adjusted his knees beside her.

The High Prince cursed inside a breath as if he’d forgotten who he was supposed to be.

She gently pulled her arms down, rubbing them along his chiseled sides and exploring to his belt. Inspecting, under the cover of desiring hands, under the cover of whorling darkness there, for what she hoped still remained.

No weapons.The dagger he’d used in the tavern was gone.

Alora guided her leg up, rubbing his calf with her boot, and bent her knee slightly. In perfect range to knee him between the legs.

An icy smile formed against her neck before her knee was thrust back down onto the furs by a phantom hand.

“Clever girl,” he breathed. A menacing chuckle followed.

Her eyes shot open with his lips still pressed there.

Pulling away and planting his hands beside her head to hover above her, Garrik released a fever-kissed, breathy laugh. “Clever, clever girl.” A wolfish grin climbed his face.

Smoke and shadow whorled around her hands at his belt, encircling her forearms as they—the darkness—pulled them over her head. The High Prince exchanged their hold for his own as he clamped around her again.

Her eyes lined with liquid as flashes of Kaine plagued her memory. If she had deigned these schemes on him, she would’ve awoken two—three—six days later.

Her heart threatened to explode. She had attempted twice to escape the High Prince, twice she injured him, and now she had invited him to kiss her, denying him pleasure.

Alora’s words caught, almost choking. “I … I’m sorry. Please,” she whispered, suddenly all too aware of his body, of his leather and metal scent, a vanilla and oak sting burned against her lips. “Don’t … please, don’t … force me.”

Garrik’s face twisted into something vicious. That iron grip loosened, and his lower body lifted slightly. And she watched through the liquid brimming her eyes when his face paled and he gritted his teeth in utter disgust.

“I never intended to. I am not a fuckingserpent.”

Warm tears fell from the corners of her eyes, streaming down her neck and soaking the fabric of the cloak. “What are you going to do to me?” Her lips quivered.

Garrik swallowed, chest heaving. “I had not planned on doing anything to you. Not until”—he paused—“this.” Garrik’s thighs loosened their grip. “Unless you desire more, I am going to release you. You will calm yourself so we can have a discussion.”

“You’re … going to let me go?”

His attention snapped to the entrance. “Speak,” he growled.