Page 148 of Blackheart

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice unsteady.

As soon as I nodded, he slipped a finger inside me.

“I want to hear you,” he growled. A soft moan escaped my lips, and he grinned.

As he teased me, I tugged at his shorts, making my wants, my needs,known.More.

He’d wanted to be honorable, but we were far past that.

As he slowly removed his shorts, I finally had a full view of not only the thick muscles trailing down his abdomen, but also his tattoo. There, displayed above his pelvis, read:

Show Time.

He leaned down, kissing me softly before entering me.

I’d had sex before, plenty of times, but I’d never felt my entire body ignite the way it did when Riven moved inside of me, maintaining eye contact, lips parted and pupils dilating.

Marriage be damned, there would be no separating Riven from me.

I’d fight for it, hide it, protect it in any way I could. The gossips could judge it. Ansel could hate it. I didn’t care.

From the moment Riven’s body connected with mine, I was done for, and he was my unraveling.

Chapter 43

Puddles

“The heir to Whimcastor Hold is soon to wed the Princess of Castivian. A daunting match they will be.”

—The Castivian Chronicle

As promised,the wedding had been arranged swiftly.

Three days had gone by in a blur before I was standing emotionless in a plain, long-sleeved white gown. A silver veil had been placed on my head at some point, as well as silver flats on my feet. I hadn’t said a word since sunrise, not that most people bothered saying much to me outside of instruction.

Aside from Avan. He had already so graciously informed me that Riven had been in his cups since sunrise.

I wished I was vowing myself to him today instead, but we’d both known that was not in the cards. But Riven had no need to fear losing me. I wouldn’t let that happen.

Ansel’s intentions were apparent. He was going to fuck who he wanted to fuck, as he’d already stooped so low as to bed Delaina. I would take no questions or judgment from him.

Ansel and I stood between two pillars on the stone floor of the House of Sterling. An evening breeze blew in through the open windows, a welcome moment of air between us.

His wedding suit was his family’s notorious light blue and grey. His father was present alongside other prominent members of Whimcastor Hold, while Xavian and our council stood behind me.

While most royals usually wed in temples, Xavian had made an example out of my ceremony. There would be no more worshiping the Fates by force. He’d declared the people of Castivian free to follow their own religions and practices, and could gather in their temples and churches. As long as they paid their taxes, he couldn’t care less.

Xavian would no longer involve the Crown in religion. It was a message to Drakington.

“I refuse to worship any God who stands idle as atrocities are committed against children and the innocent,” he’d declared. I wasn’t sure if he was talking about Clayvarie or myself as a child, or both. Either way, he made a compelling argument.

Arthur Pos had put up a fuss, per usual.

“The people will call you heretics!”

“Let them,” I’d replied, defending my brother. It made no difference to my sex life, sleeping arrangements, or dinner plans if the Crown were attached to the Gods. Plenty of people prayed in the Waywards, yet they were still caged. I stood by Xavian’s decision.

Time crawled as Lord Draven recited our titles and read off our traditional vows, officiating the match. Ansel avoided meeting my gaze, his attention drifting to the darkening sky outside the open window. His father, on the other hand, smiled proudly at his son. Satisfied with their family’s role in shaping this fledgling kingdom.