Page 83 of House of Blood and Roses: Vol. 1

"Me. I'm Lord Fallmartin's daughter."

Linc stares at me. "How..." He frowns. "You're Fallmartin's daughter?"

"Yes."

He gets up, coming so close that he's barely an inch from me. "So that means..."

I nod. "Yes. I think so. I mean, if you're really the prince."

He chuckles. "Why would I lie about that?"

"I don't know, this whole day has been really surreal. One moment, I'm trying on a wedding dress and Bastian is promising to try and set up a dinner so I can meet the mysterious prince I'm betrothed to, and the next moment I'm in Lord Fallmartin's study and he's talking about how he convinced the King to agree to our betrothal because of how fond we are of one another. So yes, I guess I just need to be sure before the hope really gets the better of me."

He reaches out and puts a hand on my arm. "I'm really the prince. Or the spare prince, Marcus is the prince." And yet another thing now makes more sense. No wonder he's on such good terms with Marcus. They're not friends, they're brothers. Or half-brothers.

"All right. So you're Prince Lincoln, and I'm Beatrice Fallmartin," I say.

"Yes."

"And that means that you're who I'm betrothed to." I meet his gaze, seeing all kinds of emotions echoing back at me. I'm not the only one who is realising how much this changes.

He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of my face, the gesture tender and full of hope. He leans in, bringing his face much closer to mine.

My breath catches in my throat, knowing what's going to happen now.

"I'm guessing this means the no kissing rule no longer replies."

"Break it," I murmur.

He chuckles. "I don't think it needs to be broken. It was only ever in place because we both thought we were betrothed to other people. If we're expected to marry one another, then I think it's safe to assume that the rule is null and void."

"Just kiss me, Linc."

He brushes his lips against mine, nothing more than a promise.

But it isn't enough. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. His arms wrap around me and he pulls me even closer. Every part of my body feels like it's on fire, and the only thing I'm capable of thinking is that I want more. I want him to touch me, and I certainly don't want him to stop kissing me.

"You're the prince," I murmur against his lips.

He chuckles. "If you keep saying that, I'm going to start thinking you're after my title." His breath tickles my lips as he talks, not breaking the intimacy of the moment.

"I couldn't care less about your title," I promise. "But I do care that you're the one I'm supposed to be marrying."

"I promise I'm the prince," he assures me between soft kisses.

"Good." I lose myself in him, running my hand over his shoulder and down his back. His heart is racing beneath my touch, and I suspect mine is doing the same. How can it not be when this is everything neither of us knew we could want?

My fangs descend, grazing against his bottom lip and accidentally cutting it. A drop of blood lands on my tongue, and a whole new need springs up within me. But we can't. That's too far, especially when we're only just coming to terms with the fact we're betrothed.

I break the kiss and cover my mouth with my hand. "I need a moment."

He smiles, revealing a hint of his own fangs. "Understandable."

"Is this real?" I murmur.

"Yes," he says. "Or it's a really cruel shared dream."

"I'd know what to do with my fangs if it was a dream."