Page 26 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

“I don’t think the assassin was working alone,” I added, which only earned me more ire from all present. “Are you going to interrogate him?” I asked because I simply couldn’t help myself.

“Enough,” Vasil snapped. “What happens to the assassin is not your concern. As to your insubordination, we’ll discuss the consequences in private.”

“My punishment, you mean?” My veins were still humming with adrenaline and his attitude made me contrary. Why did he not care more about the villain who was trying to kill him?

“Unless you’d rather we discuss it here,” he warned.

“My mother will want to know why I was handcuffed,” I said, then foolishly added, “Publicly.”

“I’ll make sure the press knows it was for your own safety. Something tells me your mother won’t be surprised,” Vasil said peevishly.

That shut me up, and I spent the remainder of the ride staring at my hands, my indignation warring with uncertainty about what might come next.

My thoughts drifted back to when I was a lad and he’d caught me with his vanadium rod, the shame and humiliation when he’d taken me over one knee and spanked me for all to see.

Even worse was the unexpected arousal I’d experienced from being so publicly put in my place.

Vasil hadn’t much cared that I was a prince then, either.

I was simply a boy in need of a good thrashing.

And now, just thinking about it sent tendrils of arousal to my cock.

That damnable cage prevented me from getting hard, which only doubled my frustration.

My hole was slick with serum, and Vasil’s plug shifted enticingly with every bump in the road.

His dark gaze shot toward me as if sensing my predicament, but his expression betrayed nothing.

“Directly to our rooms,” Vasil said when we were again safely ensconced within the courtyard of his fortress.

The servants were restricted to their quarters, but there were guards everywhere–patrolling the parapets, manning the entrances, and stalking along the corridors.

Instinct told me that the enemy’s plan had been thwarted for now, and they would need some time to regroup, but I didn’t think my assessment would be well-received so I kept it to myself.

The three of them marched me into the metal box and surrounded me on all sides as if I might attempt an escape (to where?).

I held my breath as the shuddering contraption lifted us to the top of the tower, where twice as many guards stood sentry outside our bedchamber doors.

I figured Vasil meant to send me to my room without supper, but he steered me toward his own quarters instead.

Anika and Erlander scouted Vasil’s rooms for any sign of danger while we waited just inside.

Once they’d deemed it safe, they saluted their lord, bowed to me slightly, and then departed, shutting the door behind them.

Vasil locked the door in three places, the metal bolts secured by his own sorcery, then proceeded to remove his hat, cloak, and handsome suit jacket, still without a single crease on it.

I stood awkwardly by the door with my wrists still in chains as Vasil strode up to me and said, “What. Were. You. Thinking?”

I assumed he meant the part where I went after the would-be assassin and not the part where I saved his life. Still no gratitude there.

“It was instinct, my lord,” I said as I met his eyes with defiance.

“Why would you chase after an assassin?” He asked as if it were the most ludicrous thing he’d ever witnessed.

“Why else? To catch him,” I answered. It was as simple as that.

“Not good enough,” he growled.

“I train with soldiers, my lord.”

He threw up his hands in exasperation, and it reminded me of when we were younger, when I’d pull a prank on him or generally act like a spoiled brat, anything to get a reaction from the stoic lord, though this time, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

“But you are not a soldier, Cedrych, as you pointed out earlier when it suited you. You’re a prince and more importantly, you’re mine,” he practically bellowed.

The rawness in his voice took me aback. Vasil rarely lost his composure.

He took a deep breath, gathered himself and said with more calm, “You are my betrothed, Cedrych.”

“Temporarily,” I added.

He was unmoved by my rudeness and delivered with the same icy chill, “Temporary or not, your safety is my first priority, and I cannot protect you when you act so rashly, putting yourself in such grave danger.”

“If he’d gotten away, we might never know where the threat is coming from,” I reasoned.

“And you might have died,” he roared with such renewed fervor that my bits started tingling. Not a good time, I reminded them. Vasil tore at his open shirt collar and said, “Nothing is worth risking your life.”

“Or yours,” I added because this was about his safety too.

“In this realm, I decide what’s worth it, not you,” he said.

“Because you want a puppet, not a partner,” I snapped. He’d not pulled rank on me before now, not even when we were at odds. This wasn’t about our bedroom activities either, but about who had the power to make decisions.

“Because I want to know that you’ll be here, alive. That the person I care for isn’t going to be ripped away from me and leave me to drown in my grief all alone.”

Vasil’s eyes shone with unshed tears as he turned away from me.

He was angry but more than that, he was scared–maybe even terrified–of having to go through that pain all over again.

Afraid of losing someone close to him, of losing me.

My recklessness had shattered his illusion of safety and control.

If we’d been in the fae realm, my mother likely would have dressed me down the same.

She might not have cuffed me, but she definitely would have hammered her authority into me one way or another.

Even if I didn’t necessarily regret going after the assassin, I did regret upsetting my lord.

I drew nearer to him and hooked my bound arms over his head so that I might draw him close to me. I rested my chin against his broad shoulder and held him for a few moments, calming us both.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” I said softly.

“For disregarding my safety protocol,” he bit out. I nearly smiled at his stubbornness but didn’t want him to catch me doing so.

“I’m sorry for disobeying you,” I said in earnest.

He spelled away the chain and turned toward me, enveloping me in his arms. “I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, his voice still tinged with panic. Burying his face in my neck, he breathed deeply, then mouthed the mark he’d made.

“I’m right here,” I said to assure him.

“You are a foolish, impulsive, reckless brat,” he griped.

“I know. I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.”

I kissed his neck, then his jaw, softening him further.

I wasn’t trying to seduce him, but I was aroused by his passion, the authority he exuded from every pore.

By the handcuffs too, if I were being honest. Gripping my face with both hands, he turned my head toward him and kissed me for the first time.

It was more of a claim between master and subject than a kiss shared between lovers.

Hard and demanding, it spoke of his desire to have me under him, to compel me to obey.

Lord Vasil was not a man to be trifled with, and I didn’t doubt that he’d follow through on every threat he’d made.

The promise of punishment was ever-present too, as his tongue ravaged my mouth.

I submitted to him, opening myself to his greed and his hunger.

When he’d had his fill, he nipped at my lips just as a dog might do to assert their dominance.

I tasted blood and moaned into his mouth.

“Cedrych,” he said, the end of my name lifting slightly as he steered me backward, toward the bed.

“Yes, my lord,” I responded. More of this, please. I would beg if I must. I’d already decided. I wasn’t going to let my pride stand in the way of our coupling.

The kiss softened into something more sensual, more tender, as he laid himself on top of me. I teased him with my tongue, our mouths wet, warm and luscious, hoping to entice him into more carnal acts. Whether his intention was to punish me or impale me with his cock, I was game.

“Cedrych,” he said again as his hard length pressed against me with urgency.

“Yes, my lord,” I replied, a blanket consent for whatever he had in mind.

“I want you naked. Now.”

The anger that had consumed him shifted into something more desperate as we both began the cumbersome task of disrobing.

The fabric of my shirt was torn asunder as the lord pawed at my laces, fumbling to undo them before moving onto my trousers.

I kicked my boots off with expediency before attacking the fiddly fastenings on his shirt.

There were so many delicate embroidered loops to contend with.

“Elvish clothing is not made for fucking,” I complained and he only chuckled and helped me along.

At last we were both liberated from our formal attire; my only remaining adornment was the metal cage and plug my lord had so meticulously crafted to contain and frustrate me. My arousal was beyond compare as Vasil gazed down on his work with a wicked smile.

“Goddess, you are beautiful,” he said. Rather than feel emasculated by his compliment, I preened, flexing my muscles for his pleasure.

I knew he liked big, sturdy boys, and I had that in abundance.

The lord’s obvious admiration made me doubly proud as I rubbed my hands along my rippled abdomen and cupped my caged cock.

My balls were full and heavy with seed, two overripe fruits ready to drop.

His strong hands were on my thighs, spreading them wide while my cock strained against his metal.

He drew his hand over the cage, altering it slightly so there were now spikes along the ribs, digging into my flesh and pricking me like dull thorns.