Page 41 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Lenore

T rue to his word, Cassius meets me at the pasture gates with an illustrious white stallion and several parcels tied to the saddle.

“We’re sharing?” I ask, slightly embarrassed.

“I didn’t have a good excuse for needing two horses that didn’t also require a carriage. I didn’t want them asking too many questions.”

He has a fair point. I’m assuming those in the castle will leave me alone to grieve for the remainder of the day. It’s likely no one will enter my room before dinner. If I’m lucky, they’ll just assume I’m hiding somewhere in the castle and not send a search party.

Cassius gives me a boost, helping me to mount the horse. He swings a long leg over behind me. The horse shifts, acclimating itself to having two passengers. Cassius’s body is warm as it’s pressed up against my back.

We ride for nearly an hour, taking the trails slowly. I’m grateful for the pace. I don’t think I can handle being gallop-tossed around while I’m squished up against Cassius.

My hips have grown increasingly uncomfortable when a small structure comes into view.

“I did some asking around. This cottage is used seasonally by hunters.” He gives me a bashful shrug. “It’s no castle. I can try to look for something nicer or an inn if you’d like to ride farther.”

My thighs tense at the thought of riding any more. “This is great. Let’s get inside.”

We tie the horse to the largest of the nearby oaks. There’s no barn, but the sprawling branches provide ample coverage should another storm approach. Cassius pulls several carrots from one of the bags. He leaves them at the horse’s feet, giving the beautiful creature a pat before guiding us inside.

It isn’t a castle, that’s for sure. I can tell by the lack of décor and general untidiness that a woman has never stepped foot in this cottage. Still, it has a cozy feel. Looking out the windows, I can see nothing but trees. “It’s perfect.”

Cassius lays the items he’s packed on the table. “There are already some supplies here. Someone must have stopped by recently.”

The last bag of food he opens is full of apples. Something cracks in my chest. Pain and grief threaten to flood my ribcage, drowning me in emotions that are too cataclysmic to navigate.

I slam the door on my feelings, imprisoning them deep below. I don’t want to be sad right now. Numbness starts in my chest, spreading outward. A chill moves with it, leeching my body of feelings and warmth.

A muted version of panic flaps inside me when I realize I can’t feel anything. I wanted to shut down the hurt but somehow I’ve gotten rid of everything. Reaching within, I search for the fond memories from earlier.

They’re gone. I reach for the hostility and rage I felt when I saw Harrow in the maze.

It’s vanished. Finally, I seek out the suffering I felt in being unable to bring my mother back. Nothing.

I feel nothing. Nothing .

How did it happen so fast? I locked my emotions away too tight. I yank at the chains in my chest, pounding on the door of my heart, my hurt. All of it is gone.

“I didn’t bring much by way of entertainment.

If we grab some wood, I might be able to make a board.

” Cassius’s voice drifts into my ears like an echo.

I’m aware of him slicing bread. Filling a pot with liquid and herbs.

“I started preparing this earlier today. The castle cooks were kind enough to give me the space to work. It shouldn’t take long to finish.

” He speaks out loud, continuing his work as I slink in the shadows behind him.

Somehow, feeling numb is more unbearable than being miserable and grief-stricken. I tear at my fingertips, peeling the skin in a frantic race for some kind of control over the situation. Pain sizzles up beneath the freshly ripped skin. Blood wells and raw, red flesh is revealed beneath.

At least I can still feel something. Even if it’s only pain.

“If the sky stays clear we could go for a walk in the woods.” Cassius is busying himself with our goods.

The throbbing in my fingers builds as I peel my skin deeper.

Is that all I’ve been reduced to? Physical pain?

Running my fingertips along the length of my arm, I watch as goosebumps rise to meet the trail I’ve left behind.

Another sensation. So it’s more than pain.

I can still feel other things physically.

The urge to fill my emptiness, to pour anything into that hollowness within becomes a manic obsession.

I need touch. I need pain. My gaze moves to the handsome, oblivious prince humming in the kitchen.

Memories of his lips against mine surface.

They don’t elicit any kind of emotional response, but the barest hint of a flutter forms deep in my abdomen.

I need him to touch me. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s only physical.

Cassius doesn’t notice me watching him. He doesn’t see me breathe deeply as I decide to make my move. He turns to find me right behind him. I don’t halt even for a moment. If I do, I may rethink this whole thing.

My mouth finds his in a rough, hungry kiss. His hands drop to my hips without hesitation.

Men are so easily seduced. They preach about protecting honor but if you press your mouth to theirs or rub your hand along their trousers, they’ll always give in.

We’re told not to be easy. That men enjoy the chase.

When the roles are reversed there is no chase.

I should be grateful I don’t have to work harder to get what I need.

Lips slide along mine, tongues dipping between. I keep waiting for the spark of excitement, the thrill of the first time with someone new. Instead, my rib cage remains empty. I listen inward. A simple melody of crashing waves against stone. Empty, driftwood beneath seafoam, sinking.

My still-stinging fingers fumble with the buttons on his pants. “Take these off.”

“Princess”—his hand covers mine—“are you certain about this?”

His hesitation barely registers. “I need you to make me forget.”

Reaching a hand in his pants, I grip his length, already stiff. He’s big. I knew he would be. Men with small dicks don’t walk around with the type of swaggering confidence and unfaltering self-assurance that Cassius has.

He’s a puddle in my hands as I squeeze his shaft. “Touch me. Please.”

Without any more protests, he strips bare.

His body is immaculate. Tanned, toned, with auburn curls across his broad chest. He looks like a literal sun god.

I’m about to have my way with one of the most gorgeous humans to exist. Why doesn’t that spark any thrill?

Fair skin and snowy hair creep across my vision.

Even my feelings for Harrow are shut off.

I would be happy with guilt at this point.

My relationship with Harrow has become something real.

What will he think when he finds out I gave myself to Cassius?

The question rattles against the hollow chamber in my chest. No shame. No joy. No fear for the future. No cares for the past. Fucking nothing.

When Cassius reaches for the hem of my collared dress, I hesitate. I’m not ready for him to see my scar. He removes my clothes, his actions quick and practiced. My hair is long enough that if I adjust it, it will cover most of my throat. My movements are equally as quick. The scar goes unnoticed.

Cassius leans down to kiss my neck. I move out of his reach, backing myself to sit on the edge of the bed.

His eyes ignite as I spread my knees wide.

He grips his hard shaft. The shame I would usually feel in baring myself so fully doesn’t even register.

Neither does the giddiness that having such an effect on a handsome man would.

As he stalks toward me, I scoot back, propping myself on a pillow. Cassius crawls onto the bed. The rickety craftsmanship creaks beneath the weight of him. He stops his ascent by my knees, lowering his face between my thighs.

That feels too personal. I’m too detached for personal right now.

His skin is burning as I bury my fingers in his shoulders and pull him on top of me.

I let him kiss me again. Mouth against mouth. A trace of arousal whispers somewhere from the shadows of my mind, just out of arm’s length. It swiftly retreats when I reach for it. Even the prince cannot bait it out.

The nudge of Cassius’s swollen tip at my entrance is a welcome distraction from the overwhelming nothingness that’s driving me deeper into an inescapable prison of self-isolation.

The slow press of his hips guides more of his length inside. He’s girthy. My skin stings where he stretches me. Maybe it’s just because I’m not warmed up. Still, that small bite of pain fills my well of emptiness a few small drops. I need more.

“Does that hurt?” Cassius peers down at me, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He’s holding back. Of course he is. Cassius is a gentleman.

“Keep going,” I encourage. He slides deeper. No foreplay or romantic warmups. My muscles fight to relax. Cassius senses my tenseness and pulls back.

Wrapping my legs around the thick muscles of his lower back, I pull him lower and tilt my hips up. His full length presses in. We both gasp. Blood rushes to my lower region, creating a pulse where my skin is stretched the tightest.

Finally . The pain, the pulsing, the wet arousal coating him each time he sheathes himself in me. Each sensation brings me back into my body a little bit more.

“Harder,” I say. Cassius’s breath catches in his throat. His hips pick up but he’s still holding back. “Harder, please.”

I need to feel more.

“Princess,” he says cautiously.

“Harder, Cassius.”

He pulls back again. The physical sensations stutter out. That unbearable numbness overtakes me. No emotions. Just an empty void in my stomach and lungs. Physical sensations are the only thing I can feel right now and even they’re muted. I’m losing touch with everything.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s so damned nice . Sorry to disappoint you, Prince Chivalrous, but pain is exactly what I need right now.