Page 48 of Artemysia
The heat rises in the carriage. It could be my imagination, but I swear when her eyes close, she is trying to hold herself back.
And I’m right.
Her eyes flash open, meeting my gaze—and without warning, she crushes her lips onto mine.
Sweet lord.
She’s not gentle. She’s still hurt and confused. But she wants me, and I can’t believe it.
I’ll spend the rest of my life earning her trust back.
I have no idea what she’s thinking, but I pull her by her waist over my lap, so she feels my hard arousal.
Simply from kissing her. It’s wild, animalistic, what she does to me.
I’m accustomed to being used, to being the one giving pleasure, and while most nights, it’s a distraction, I’ve never wanted anything in return.
Here and now, I want everything with Delphine. All of her.
The throbbing heat in my breeches is unbearable. I force myself not to think of her warm, wet mouth on my cock. It was far better than I deserved.
I’m surprised when she lifts her skirt and straddles me, pressing a damp heat onto me through her underwear.
When I palm her breasts, one slips out over the top of that emerald-green dress, and my mouth works that beaded, dark pink nipple.
She utters a loud, breathy gasp as I scrape my teeth over it and suck on it, drawing it deep and hard into my mouth.
My hand frees her other breast from her dress, and she cries out when my thumb rolls over the hard peak even as I suckle harder.
She still hasn’t said anything, and part of me knows she doesn’t want to think right now.
I know her. Perhaps she wants only to be distracted from the terror we’ve experienced since we left Stargazer or to escape her jumble of feelings about me.
There are probably too many worries in her head, and she needs to sort through them.
I need to give her time.
As badly as I want her—to sprawl her out and take her again as I did in the cave pools—I back off. Even though everything she does is showing me she wants it too.
There has to be some kind of prize for this.
“Elphie.” I barely muster a coherent word over the tightness straining between my legs. My balls fucking ache. “I know you, and I want to talk.”
She ignores me, unbuckling my trousers. Before I know it, she’s sliding her body down the front of me, kneeling on the carriage floor.
I should be the one down on my knees.
She pauses. “Your hair, down here. You trimmed it?” she says, glancing up at me with those large, questioning eyes of hers.
“The Syf pervs cleaned me up when they brought me to Artemysia. While I was unconscious, they gave me a haircut. Everywhere . I guess I’m too hairy for a Syf.” I shrug. For me, it’s always a relief to find any indication that I’m not like Syf.
“Consent issues aside, I like it.” She runs her fingertips over the groomed hair below my belly and bends to kiss it.
I tremble but brace myself back into the seat to hide it. Her touch has that effect, every single time.
“Then I’ll have to thank them.” I choke out the words as she continues kissing lower. My cock twitches when her lips land on the sensitive tip, and it’s all I can do to stop my leg from kicking out.
Hell if I’m not thinking straight. I can’t believe I’m going to say this.
“I want to talk,” I repeat, with less conviction. A lie, at this point.
What am I doing?
I care this much. I want to fucking talk. To talk, instead of having urgent reunion sex.
She pulls back, gripping my knees as the carriage bounces over a rough patch of ground. A crease appears on her forehead. “What?”
“I need to know that you understand my motivations. You need time to process your feelings about all that’s happened.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks are blotchy red, and she breathes out slowly through her lips. “Give me a sec.” She gathers herself and yanks up the front of her dress, covering her exposed chest.
I’m a damn fool. Always, around her.
A worried look crosses her sweet face. “Do you want me to declare feelings?”
I shake my head vehemently. “No, not at all. I’m taking that off the table for you right now. Don’t say anything just because I did. Not like you did with the others. It’s not fair to anyone. Take time to sort through your feelings, and mine will be here when you’re ready.”
“Then what do we talk about?”
“Whatever’s on your mind. First, do you believe that I wasn’t planning to run away?”
“I want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can yet. That you wouldn’t rather just take off.”
“That’s okay. I’ll prove it to you over time.”
“Over time? Do we have that?”
“Maybe not. Whatever time I have, it’s yours.” And I mean it.
She leans back against the black velvet seat of the coach and presses her shoulder against mine. But she turns her head away and stares out the window. “You’re right. My thoughts are reeling.”
“I know. Like I said earlier—don’t shut me out. Promise me that.”
Without looking, she reaches out a hand to find mine. Our fingers entwine, and I’d rather have her hand in my palm than a thousand jewels dipped in gold.
“I’m afraid of growing attached, only to get hurt.”
“I understand.”
“Do you think it’s true? That the Syf are being infected on purpose? If they are, and we can stop it, then the attacks could…end.” She drops off, as though not daring to hope.
“That’s what we’re here to find out. I don’t trust either side for now. There’s more to it than they’re telling us.”
“I sense that too. What do they all want? Galke, Foss, North Kingdom. We need to determine their motivations.”
“We finally agree on something.” I chuckle.
She laughs. “The universe must be falling apart. You’re a Syf prince, and here I am, fallen into a magical world hidden from us this whole time. Now we’re pretending to be married nobility. ”
“As my pretend wife, you’re going to have to address me as my lord .”
“Hoo. You’re a dickhole, my lord.”
“It turns me on either way.”
She grips my hand tighter and laughs again.
My heart bursts when I hear that sweet sound burble out of her.
We compare what we’ve learned. Apparently, the Syf controlled information so well that even after a week, we both have the same questions and very few answers.
We discuss our pretend backstory and practice the roles we will play once we set foot in the North Kingdom.
It devolves quickly into speculating which one of us “married up.”
“Perhaps you had the looks and the money and married me as a boy toy?” I suggest.
“Or you—a sullen, lonely heir—found love with a poor farm girl?” Her face flushes at the thought as she lays a hand on my thigh.
“We were forced to marry because we are both nobility, and in our loveless arrangement, we cheat on each other with the kitchen help?”
“Yes. Yes we do.”
I laugh so hard that no sound comes out. Every new backstory we create tops the previous one in ridiculousness.
Soon, Delphine is gripping her belly with her arms. “Are you cry-laughing?” She stabs a finger at my face.
I’m roaring, and a tear does indeed roll down my cheek.
She stretches a hand to my chin and swipes her thumb across my jaw, catching the tear before it drops onto my coat collar.
An indecipherable expression crosses her face. It almost looks like regret or sadness, but she’s jolted back into a smile with the next bump in the road. I catch her by the waist and pull her into me as she lurches off her seat.
I don’t ask what she’s thinking, because I’m not ready for rejection. I’ve been rejected by society all my life. That I can take. I’m used to it. But I can’t stand the thought of it coming from Delphine.
We sit with our unspoken words, her head on my shoulder, my chin resting on top.
Our carriage reaches the north end of the Artemysian forest.
The mood sobers as the prince’s dark estate appears in the foreground, painted in an inky black that reflects no light off its many jagged, shadowy corners. Gold fixtures and accents line its tarred and tiled roofs.
Our carriage joins a procession of other guests approaching the immense country house alongside the East River. Ghostly mist wafts eerily from its shores, shrouding the property in a bleak gloom that chills me to the marrow.
Delphine tenses, her grip on my palm tightening.
Who and what we will encounter, I have no clue. But with Delphine by my side, I am never afraid.