Page 22 of Dynasty of the Wicked (The Wicked Princess #1)

22

Zhi Ruo awoke in the middle of the night to a nightmare she couldn’t remember. She lay there, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat and staring at the tented ceiling. Something felt off. She couldn’t describe it, but she had an unsettling feeling that someone was calling out to her.

It almost … sounded like a child crying. Sobbing for her, or anyone, to come to their aid.

A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged herself tightly. She couldn’t remember the dream, no matter how hard she tried to pull at the ebbs of it, but the corner of her eyes stung at the abandonment, the pain .

Because she had been a child like that. Crying for someone to help her. Trying her hardest to be loved. And … and completely alone in the end.

She slowly sat up in bed. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Feng Mian was fast asleep beside her, his chest moving up and down rhythmically and the dark cursed veins on his neck pulsing slightly. He didn’t stir, even when she pushed the blankets off her body and moved around him.

Running a hand through her dark hair and slipping her feet into the boots Lanying had given her—boots that actually fit her, as opposed to the previous pair she had worn—she headed toward the flap of the tent, but not before throwing a cloak over her body. This, too, had been given by Lanying.

She pushed her way outside. All at once, a cold burst of wind blew against her, and she hugged her arms to her chest. Tiny flurries blasted around the camp in thick swirls, coating her lashes in seconds. She didn’t know what she was doing, or why she was even leaving, but her legs seemed to move on their own. She pushed through the snow, her boots crunching over the frozen ground..

Most of the camp was asleep; she could make out their sleeping outlines where their tents were lit up with small candles. Fires enclosed in rings of stones burned between every couple of tents. A few soldiers sat beside the fires, drinking, or speaking softly to one another—they were guarding the camp from intruders. A few nodded in her direction. None of them seemed suspicious of her.

Zhi Ruo kept walking, pulling the cloak closer over her body. Her hair whipped over her face, and her cheeks felt more wind-chapped and frozen the more she weaved through the tents. Her shins slogged through the thickening snow.

It wasn’t until she reached a specific tent that she halted in her steps. The wind continued to batter against her relentlessly and she stared at the entrance, where the two flaps were constantly flicking up and down and side to side.

For a moment, she only stood there, staring, and then she quickly glanced at her surroundings. This tent was set further aside than the others, and it was near the storage area, where barrels and boxes of goods were set aside. The tented area for horses was nearby, too, and even through the frigid, dense air, the smell of horseshit and hay was strong.

She hesitated, before pushing her way inside. Almost immediately, her eyes adjusted to the barely flickering orange candlelight in the small room. Heavy, metal chains clanked on the ground, followed by a low growl. Her gaze skated from the candle to the center pole keeping the tent together, and then to the chains circling it tightly. She followed those chains to the corner of the room, where angry, glowing, red eyes stared back at her.

A childlike being sat on his heels. Long, greasy black hair fell over his shoulders and down his waist in messy, knotted strands. Black and silver scales ran up his arms and neck and over the spots of his chest she could see through his tattered, threadbare clothes. Lighter silvery-black scales covered his cheeks, and there were two giant black horns on his head, which curved upward, the tips silver-touched. He had long claws, sharpened to black tips, and sharp teeth that he bared at her.

She remained rooted in place. The child couldn’t have been older than eight. Maybe younger by a few years. She had no way of knowing, since he was clearly a different creature altogether.

He continued to growl, low and throaty, his teeth showing more. Smoke curled at the corner of his mouth, and she feared he would breathe fire in her direction.

A … dragon.

This child was a dragon .

Zhi Ruo’s heart raced as she noticed the animal bones at his feet. They were licked clean, and it appeared like he had chewed on them recently, saliva clinging to the brittle white pieces. Most were cracked and broken, with shards littering the ground. Some had turned to ash.

Her head swam and the creature continued rumbling at her. They were clearly animal bones, judging by the size of them, but she couldn’t help but think of something more sinister—like humans. This was a dragon after all. A … dragon .

Shock reverberated over every part of her body, making her tremble, her knees nearly giving out. Dragons were known to be arrogant, territorial, angry beasts. And they were powerful. Long, winged, serpentine … not like this. Not humanoid.

“I-it’s okay,” she found herself saying, her voice cracking through the quiet room.

The growls lowered. The creature flexed his hands.

“I’m …” She didn’t even know what to say. Her mouth was dry. What was she doing here in the first place? Or, maybe the better question was, why was this dragon child here? “Are you … lost?”

The chains told her everything she needed to, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Who could capture a dragon and keep it prisoner? She had never heard of anyone controlling a dragon. Her mind couldn’t make sense of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I didn’t mean to … intrude?”

The child leaped forward, claws outstretched. Zhi Ruo stumbled back, but not before the creature sliced through her forearm with ease, ripping the fabric of her sleeve. She yelped, falling onto her bottom and scurrying backward. The chains were pulled taut around the dragon-child’s neck as he swung forward, his long, black-tipped claws swinging a few inches away from her face. Hot, slick blood slid down her arm.

He howled, louder this time, retreating back to the pole. Her blood slipped down his sharpened nails and spotted the ground. He lowered himself onto his pile of bones, never taking his eyes off her, and licked his fingertips.

Zhi Ruo released a shuddered breath. She slowly glanced down at her arm. Three long gashes covered her arm and scarlet bloomed along the shredded material of her sleeve. Unfortunately, it was the one the ghoul hadn’t attacked, so now both her arms were injured.

The dragon narrowed his vertical-slit eyes. Even in the dim lighting, she could make out the threads of amber intertwined with the deep red.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” she breathed, unsure of what to say or do. Clearly, the child was terrified of her. She had no idea why she was drawn to him, but she had a feeling that it was him who had been trying to reach out to her. “Do you need help?” She hugged her arm to her chest, hissing in pain at the deep cuts. “It was you that was calling out for me, right?”

The child stared at her, unblinking.

“I could feel your pain.” She swallowed, feeling a tad bit ridiculous and a bit … terrified. She pushed her fear down, certain that this being could smell it on her. “You need my help.”

He didn’t speak.

The wind howled.

She shivered. “You … you are like me.”

He was imprisoned like her. Left alone here. Maybe even abandoned.

“Are you hungry?” Zhi Ruo eyed the bones he sat on and noticed that the broken pieces were digging into his feet, which were uncovered. Even his toenails were long, black, and dangerously sharp. Black scales covered most of the pale skin on his feet.

He flexed his fingers. Manacles were bound around his wrists.

“Perhaps …” She rose to her feet, wincing with every motion from both of her arms. One arm felt heavy and numb, and the other throbbed from the fresh gashes. There was no way for her to help the dragon-child. What was she going to do? Set him free? She had no idea who he was or why he was kept here. What if she found a way to release him, and he killed everyone here? Herself included? She couldn’t trust him. Not after he’d attacked her.

“Perhaps you are cold?” She unfastened the clasp on her cloak and pulled it off her body. Her fingers were stiff and the motions rigid, painful, and awkward as she folded the cloth. The dragon watched her distrustingly.

She placed the cloak on the cold, dirt floor and pushed it forward with her toes until it was within the child’s reach.

“This will keep you warm.”

He glared at her, his lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth.

“I will … try to help when I can,” she continued. “I don’t know what I can do, but I will see if there is any way to free you from those shackles. It must not be easy … I imagine. I, too, was imprisoned by my enemies.”

When he didn’t respond, she walked backward, sparing him one last look before she slipped out of the tent. She wove through the clusters of tents and then paused. She had no idea where Feng Mian’s tent was.

She had only walked a few steps when she heard his voice.

“Zhi! Zhi? Where are you?”

Right. Zhi . That was her new name here.

She turned her head toward his voice, and noticed him further away, coming up to a few soldiers. Even in the night, his white hair seemed to glow. He spoke to them in hushed tones. Her chest pulled with guilt at the sight of him. Even though she was here, he had no clue it was her. He couldn’t see her, and most likely, the presences of everyone in this camp overwhelmed him. There was probably no way for him to pinpoint her location.

If she wanted to, she could slip out of here. Nobody would even care. She could trek through the frozen forests and try to find her way to a town. And then … she could maybe just disappear forever. Maybe it was better that way. To not be a princess. To just join the common folk.

She shook her head. She didn’t even know what she would do if she was out in the streets. Someone was bound to see her royal tattoo, and then she would be brought to the False Emperor, killed, and then that would be the end of it.

Without hesitating, she crossed the distance to Feng Mian.

“She’s my wife,” he gritted out. “I don’t know what the fuck she looks like.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be so sour,” one of them said. “There’s gotta be something about her that we can use to find her. Height? Size?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean, I know you can’t see, but …” One of them cackled. “How do you not know what your wife at least feels like? Is she big breasted, small, long-legged? Surely you’ve fu?—”

“Keep talking and I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth,” Feng Mian snarled, grabbing the soldier by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off his feet. His eyes glowed maliciously. “You’re forgetting who I am. A few weeks away and you forget your place?”

The man coughed, grasping Feng Mian’s arm.

Zhi Ruo paused to watch the interaction. The man’s face was growing blue as he struggled. She walked up to them slowly, and Feng Mian finally released him. The man collapsed at his feet.

“I’m here,” she said, shivering in the cold.

A look of relief calmed the storm of anger on his face, and he shoved the soldiers aside as he came to stand in front of her. He reached forward to take her hands, but she stepped back before he could, her expression pinched together.

“Just take me to the tent,” she snapped.

He hesitated, concern washing over his face. “Are you bleeding? I smell blood.”

She instinctively brought her injured arm closer to her body. She hated that he sounded so genuine, so concerned. “Why do you care? Let’s just go?—”

Feng Mian grabbed her arm and she yelped in pain. His look of rage returned, and his mouth curled back. “What happened?” he demanded. “Who did this?”

“No one.” She snatched her hand back, noticing the way the soldiers were staring at them. “Anyway, let’s go.”

The muscles of his jaw tightened. “Tell me.”

“ No .”

He blinked, as if not expecting that, and then begrudgingly began heading to the left. She trailed behind him, being sure to keep at least a foot of distance between them. His fists clenched together and the moonlight painted him in hues of silver.

“Prin— Zhi ,” he corrected, voice tight like he was barely able to control the rage simmering beneath the surface. “Tell me who did it to you. I know you didn’t do it yourself.”

For some reason, she wanted to keep the dragon-child a secret, especially considering Chanming was clearly imprisoning him, and seeing as how Feng Mian was best friends with the cruel man, she wasn’t sure if it would do the child any good. He had injured her, after all, and even though Feng Mian didn’t love her—a statement that still stung—he was protective of her, for some reason.

“I have no reason to tell you,” she said when they stopped at a familiar tent. She hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a tendril of black magic threaded in the fabric of the tent. She could feel the magic thrumming from it. “Is this your magic?”

His eyebrows pulled together and she could tell it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. “Yes. It’s so I can find the tent among the others.”

“Ah.” Zhi Ruo ran her finger over the thread and it shifted from black to gray to black again, reminding her of smoke. “Why don’t you ever put this on me? So you can keep track of where I am?”

“Most people don’t like it.”

“But it is easier for you, yes?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “It is.”

“Then you should put it on me. Not on this dress, since it’s ripped, but maybe a different one.” She pulled back at the strips of torn fabric stuck into the cuts on her forearm, grimacing the whole time.

Feng Mian’s mouth pursed together into a firm line, and she had the sense that he could tell she was in pain, even though he couldn’t see it. Or maybe her mentioning the rips in her dress had reminded him of it. She had no way of knowing, and she didn’t want to revisit that particular line of conversation, so she pushed her way inside the tent.

“I’ll call Physician Wu,” he said at the entrance of their room.

“I’m fine?—”

“Why did you leave in the middle of the night?” Feng Mian curled his hands together, his expression flickering between cool indifference to silent anger. He couldn’t completely shutter his emotions, because she could read him clearly, maybe better than before, when she’d only seen him through rose-tinted lenses.

“Because,” she gritted out, “I can? I’m not a prisoner here.”

“You’re not,” he agreed. “But … you didn’t tell me.”

“Am I supposed to?” She sat down on the bedding and yanked at the sleeve of her dress. It tore easily, the rips loud in the quiet of night. She tore off more sections and slowly bound her wound with clumsy, awkward motions. “I am married to you, yes, but we only married so we could escape. Now that we’re no longer in Wyer’s clutches, why do we need to remain married? Wouldn’t it be easier to divorce and move on with our lives?”

He flinched like she had slapped him, inhaling sharply. “What?”

“You heard me.” Zhi Ruo pinned him with a harsh look and she wished he could see how angry she was, but she instead tried to add as much vitriol to her tone instead. “We don’t need to be married anymore. We can stop this farce.”

“You … are serious?”

“Why are you pretending to be so shocked?” She laughed bitterly as she continued to bandage herself with the remnants of her torn sleeve. “You don’t love me, Feng Mian. What reason do we have to remain married? Surely, you didn’t think I would stay with you just because I have nowhere else to go? In case you forgot, I’m not a nobody. I don’t need you. If you don’t love me, then there’s no reason for us to be together.”

“I don’t … I don’t want to separate.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Zhi Ruo snorted. “Why? You seem to care for me, but you don’t love me. So maybe you just want someone to warm your bed? Is that it? Well, in that case, I’m sure you can find plenty?—”

“ Stop .” He stepped further into the room. The only light source was the moonlight filtering through the thinner sections of the tent, and it warped across the angry planes of his face. “I am not with you for that reason. I … I care for you, Zhi Ruo, and I wish to be with you.”

“You are confused,” she spat, “and until your confusion clears, there is no reason for us to be together. You care for me, but you don’t love me. You wish to die on the battlefield, but you want to live long enough for your friend to sit on the throne. You wish to die for your friend, you wish to sleep with me, you wish for … for so many things that conflict with one another.”

“Everything is complicated.”

“No, things are very simple. You are just too much of a coward to see things as they are. You are indecisive and unworthy?—”

Her words were cut off; he was in front of her in a split second. He towered over her, his mouth curled into a snarl, and his hands balled together. Even like this, full of unadulterated rage, he was beautiful. His silvery eyes flashed. “Do not call me a coward, Zhi Ruo.”

“Have I struck a nerve?” She peered up at him with a frown. She didn’t know what it was that pushed her to keep poking at his wounds, but she couldn’t stop. Not when he had hurt her so badly. Not when she wanted to hurt him back. “You are a coward, Zheng Feng Mian, and nothing you do will convince me otherwise. You have betrayed me and my trust, so how can you be anything but unworthy?”

He dropped down until he was sitting on his heels, almost at her level, and grasped her chin roughly, turning her so she could stare up at him. Maybe he realized what effect he had on her. That when she looked at him, it hurt to breathe sometimes.

“You are a cruel woman,” he hissed.

“And you are a cruel man.” She slapped his hand away. “You say you don’t love me, but you hate when anyone disrespects me. You hate being without me. And you hate when I’m hurt. It sounds to me like you do love me, but you are too terrified to admit it. Because admitting it means you have to choose between me and Chanming, and in your mind, you’ve already promised Chanming the throne, haven’t you? But I am getting in the way of it now, and it confuses you.”

Feng Mian clenched his teeth together. The black streaks on his neck stood out, and she wondered, briefly, how much of his curse Chanming had aggravated. How many times had Feng Mian used his magic for Chanming’s cause? How much of his life did he give up every time he fought for him? It twisted her stomach and made her sick.

“You have never chosen yourself, have you?” All the harshness deflated from her voice, replaced with sadness. She blinked away the stinging of her unshed tears. If he valued himself, would he choose her instead of helping her half-brother usurp the throne? But maybe she was too arrogant and hopeful to think that way—to think that his happiness was with her.

“I have told you since the beginning, Princess,” he seethed, “I can love no one. I am a monster.”

“You are not a monster.” She glared at him harder this time, hoping he could feel the cutting edge of it. “You are just scared.”

“I am not scared, Zhi Ruo.”

“You told me yourself.” Zhi Ruo pushed herself onto her knees, leveling her stare with his. She hooked her hands onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into the soft material of his robes. The military uniform clung to his lean figure. “You are scared of me. What I do to you.”

His scowl darkened.

“Tell me,” she murmured. “When you awoke and I wasn’t beside you … were you afraid that I’d left you? Did you think you were all alone?”

Something flickered over his face. So minute that she almost didn’t catch it, but it was there, a sliver of vulnerability. She grasped onto it, relishing in the feel of it. He had been scared to lose her. She could tell.

“You were, weren’t you?” Zhi Ruo dug her nails into his skin, and yet he didn’t wince. “Despite what you say to me, despite how much you try to push me away, you love me. Just as I love you.”

It was unfortunate, though, that love wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough for him to choose her over Chanming. It wasn’t enough to make him change his ways. To change his allegiance.

“When you’re dying, you won’t think of Chanming and his eventual rise to power. You will think of me .” Her words dripped with venom, with wickedness, with the truth she believed in. She leaned closer to him, her mouth brushing against his ear. “When you take your last breath, you will regret leaving my bed, leaving my side, and letting me walk away from you. And you will wonder … what were you even fighting for? And then you will die, Zheng Feng Mian. Alone, like the monster you believe yourself to be.”

The color drained from his face and something simmered in his eyes—anger like she had never seen before. It wasn’t like the fiery craze she was accustomed to with every male in her life—her father, her brother Wanqing, the palace guards—no, this was a purely frigid type of wrath. The kind that was more terrifying than fire.

Zhi Ruo loosened her grip on him. She had, perhaps, poked the beast a little too hard.

“You are wicked, Zhi Ruo,” he whispered coldly, grasping her wrists in his large, calloused hands. In one fluid motion, he shoved her to the padded floor and pinned her wrists above her head, his weight pressing against her as he leaned forward. “Is that what you want? For me to die thinking of you?”

She cried in pain, the gashes on her arm pulling open with the motion. But it didn’t deter him; if anything, it only made his face darken. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from whimpering. She could feel the blood soaking the bandages.

“You’re hurting me.” Her voice wavered.

Feng Mian inched closer, his eyes reminding her of steel. “Answer me.”

She was all too aware of his touch, and she hated the way her body reacted to him. How a small, terrible part of her wished for him to take her like this, right here, right now, like he had the night before. She hated that her anger had diluted, overtaken by a need for him. Because even though Feng Mian had hurt her, betrayed her, and made her feel pathetic, she wanted to feel loved by him. She wanted to be held by him, to pretend that they were lovers when they embraced, instead of two enemies on opposite sides of a battle.

“Yes,” she nearly spat out, trying to reign in her emotions. “That’s what I want.”

His grip on her tightened. “You want me to die, Zhi Ruo?”

She wanted to say yes, just to see how he would react, but she couldn’t lie to him. Not right now. “No.”

“What is it about you that you want me to remember?” It was almost like a challenge—a taunt .

Zhi Ruo raised her hips against his and he stilled. A slow smile spread over her face. “You know what you would remember, Feng Mian.”

His eyes darkened with desire, and his grip tightened. “I will always remember you and my time with you.”

“But you don’t make love with me, do you?” She narrowed her eyes. Her tone came out sharper than she’d intended it to.

“Do you think I have been with multiple women before you?” He released one of her wrists and dragged a knuckle along her cheek, and then down to her neck. A trail of heat followed in the wake of his touch. “I have never made love to anyone before, and I have never fucked anyone else before, either. You are my first, and only.”

This time it was Zhi Ruo’s turn to still. She blinked up at him, at his beautiful face, at his pristine silvery-white hair, at the piercing silver of his glare. He was too beautiful, unlike her, to have never been with anyone before. She would have thought … she would have thought that he had lines and lines of lovers.

“Why?” Zhi Ruo finally whispered.

“Why what?”

“Why have you never been with anyone but … but me?” She didn’t want to hear him say that it was because she was special, that she was the only one who made him feel that way. It would make it so much harder to stop loving him. It would make her fall even deeper into this messy, chaotic love of theirs.

“Because,” Feng Mian said, trailing his hand under her skirt, “you are the only one for me. I have never met anyone else like you. Who is dark, like me. Who is unloved, like me. Who is a monster, like me. I have only ever wanted you.”

“I’m a monster?”

“Your reputation.” He smiled, and it was the first break from tension between the both of them. Her heart swelled at the sight of it, and the back of her eyes burned. It shouldn’t have been so easy for her to forgive him for betraying her, for all the hurt he had caused, but something within her softened at the thought of being the only one for him. If he didn’t love her, she was sure he was at least headed that way. Maybe it was a pathetic way to think—that at least he was almost in love with her. Maybe she was starved of love, and that’s why she took the tiny offering he had given—that she was the only one he had been with, and the only one he wanted to be with—but … but she needed something from him. Love, yes, but more.

Zhi Ruo wrapped her legs around his waist, liking the way his body froze at the contact, the way his eyes darkened.

“Kiss me,” she ordered. “And make love to me, Feng Mian.”

He hesitated. “Zhi Ruo …” It was more of a groan.

She squeezed her thighs over him, grinning as her voice lowered. “Make love to me, Feng Mian. I know you want to. I don’t want you to fuck me. I want you to love me. I know you can do it, and I know you want to.”

His resolve was weakening. She could tell.

“Because you want to know the truth?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You made love to me last night. You know you did, but you won’t admit it. You love me, Zheng Feng Mian, and you want to be with me, but you’re too scared. But here’s the thing—if you can’t even admit to those feelings, then you should just let me go. I want someone who can love me without shame. Without feeling like he’s doing me a favor when he’s with me. If you can’t be him, then let me go.”

Silence stretched between them. The winds howled against their tent, sending a burst of chilly air wafting through the gaps where the tent met the ground. Feng Mian frowned, his eyebrows pulling together as emotions warred over his face.

“Is it easier to betray me than your best friend?” she asked quietly.

He flinched. “I didn’t mean to betray you.”

“But you did. You choosing him over me means that you would rather I die, than him.” A fire stoked in her chest, growing hotter, fiercer. “He and I cannot live in the same world, Feng Mian. You know that. Because here is what’s going to happen.”

His hand remained frozen on her thigh beneath her skirt.

“You will either choose me, and we will make love, and have happy memories. We will live together, somewhere, far away from all of these messy, messy politics. We will love each other and we will be at peace with one another. Maybe you’ll inherit your father’s lands, and we’ll show everyone just how capable the two of us are. They all hate us, anyway. Or, Feng Mian, you choose him. In that case”—her tone shifted to something harsh—“I will leave here, tonight, and I will never come back. You will never find me. And you will fight for Chanming. You will continue fighting, battle after battle, until one day, during this course of trying to win the throne from my brutal father, you fall in battle. You’ll die alone, wishing you had one more moment with me. Because while you’re dying, do you really think you will be thinking about what could have been with Chanming? Will you be thinking, ‘I wish I could have seen Chanming on the throne’? No, you will miss me. And the very thought of me will haunt you forever.”

His nails scraped along her sensitive skin. “You’re really making me choose right now?”

“I am.”

“Why is there no world where I can have both? Where I can witness your wretched father fail, watch Chanming rise to power, and have you?”

“You know better than me that Chanming will never let me live.”

He breathed against her neck, inhaling her scent. “ Fuck . I want you.”

She could tell what little resolve he had left was crumbling, because his hand trailed up the underside of her thigh, gripping the flesh firmly.

A vulnerability passed over his face, shadows collecting in his pale, pale eyes. “You are a cruel woman.”

“Better to be cruel than a coward.”

For a moment, they remained still, on the precipice, as if neither were sure if they should proceed. But then he leaned forward and crushed his lips against hers. She moved against him, her legs clenching around his waist, her mouth moving in sync with his. She felt lightheaded, the numbness and pain of her arms disappearing slowly as desire overwhelmed her senses.

Feng Mian handled her roughly, tugging at her dress, his hands roaming over her body. She grasped his face in her hands, kissing him again, her tongue flicking out to meet his.

He cursed again, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I don’t think I can ever forget this. You’re too perfect.”

Perfect wasn’t a word she would ever use to describe herself. Imperfect, sure. But never perfect . But she was starting to realize that she didn’t need to be faultless around him.

“So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, one hand teasing her breast and the other going lower.

She squirmed and gasped at his touch, her toes curling as his fingers found her sensitive flesh.

“I love the way you feel. I love the way you smell. I love the way you sound .”

She gasped against him. “ Feng Mian .”

His lips met hers again, a fervent need passing between them both, as if this moment would pass too quickly. She looped her aching arms around his neck and arched against him.

She moaned when he finally slid inside of her. Her body clenched around him. He groaned softly, his hands weaving into her hair as he pulled her head back. He kissed her neck, moving slowly, seeming to relish in the way she writhed beneath him.

“I love you, you wicked, wicked woman,” he hissed out, like she had forced him to admit it. She would hear the slight tremble of fear, of vulnerability, in his voice. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.”

He crushed his mouth to hers before she could respond. He moved even slower, savoring her, and his mouth dragged over to her ear. “I’m deeply, insanely in love with you. You are my light. And I want to be with you. I want to breathe for you. I want to love you. I want all of you. But … But I’m too fucking scared to love. Love has never come easy for me.”

“It never came easy for me either,” she said between gasps. She took his face in her hands. “We can learn together.”

They kissed again, ravenously. Like two people starved of love. Like two people madly in love, whose futures dangled by a thread.