Page 8 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Lord Vasil

It was a few hours before dawn when I escorted the prince to his rooms across the hall from my own, both located in the tallest tower of my fortress.

My chambers faced north where the light was softer.

They’d once belonged to my mother as her drawing and sewing rooms. The prince would have my parents’ former bedroom suite which overlooked the harbor and received plenty of light on sunny days.

The sea breeze kept my fortress cool, even in summer, and the windows were easy to shutter during the winter months when the snow blew the fiercest. There were also numerous chandeliers and braziers lit by the eternal flame that offered light and warded off the chill.

The prince meandered over to the window to peer out.

The terrain here was starker than his homeland, made up of towering cliffs and sharp rock faces with fewer pastures and woodlands.

But there were sparkling waterfalls and pristine springs in which to restore one’s spirit, and the sight of my own Cysgodion Cliffs bathed in moonlight never failed to move me.

My lands were austere but beautiful. As to what Cedrych thought of them, I did not know, but I’d do everything in my power to make him feel at home.

“There’s food if you’re hungry and a basin for washing. I can show you the baths after you’ve rested.” I spoke to him as if I were his valet. I didn’t employ a valet myself, though if the prince wanted one, I could arrange it.

“Where will you sleep?” Cedyrch asked, eyeing the generous-sized bed, resplendent with silk sheets and a thick down quilt.

“My rooms are across the hall.”

“Across the… oh.”

Was that disappointment in his voice? But it’d be impossible for me to share the same bed under the cloak of darkness, not with the recent vulnerability he’d shared and the scent of his arousal so heady and thick in the air.

“There will be guards stationed outside your door in case you need anything in the next few hours,” I informed him.

“You do have an abundance of guards. Is that to prevent me from leaving?” Cedrych eyed the decorative metal bars running lengthwise over the windows.

They were to prevent an airborne assassin from entering.

I’d constructed those bars myself, which made them impenetrable, and any sorcerer who tried to tamper with them would leave behind their signature mark.

“They are here to keep us safe, Your Highness. You had guards stationed throughout Crystal Castle for the same purpose, did you not?”

“Not like this,” he said, perhaps glimpsing the depths of my paranoia. I employed more guards than servants, some of them paid extra to inform on others. My spies had spies. But I did not wish to confront that issue just yet.

“Breakfast will be a casual affair,” I said to the prince. “To be served whenever you rise, at your convenience.”

“Well then… goodnight, Lord Vasil.” The prince’s words were stiff as he offered a polite bow. I found myself not liking the formality.

“Goodnight, Your Highness. And welcome to the elvish realm. I sincerely hope you’ll be happy here.

” I retreated from his room and closed the door behind me, then addressed my head commander Anika Farrow, who was waiting for me in the hall, “If the prince chooses to leave his rooms, alert me immediately.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said briskly.

Until Cedrych was fully briefed on our security protocol, I wasn’t taking any chances with his safety. The thought of something happening to him troubled me more than my own well-being, which meant vetting his retinue was of even greater importance.

“He seems nice,” Anika said, breaking protocol to remind me that in addition to serving as my chief of security, she was also my older cousin and at times, prone to prying.

“Yes, and?” I asked dubiously.

“Easy on the eyes,” she said with a canny smile.

I shook my head at her attempt to get my opinion on the matter. Cedrych’s mother had already played matchmaker. Whatever transpired between us now would happen of its own accord, though the journey here had been an auspicious start.

“He’s very willful,” I informed her, in case she thought the prince would be easy to persuade.

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure, Mercier,” she said with an encouraging slap on the back.

Anika was one of the few people who called me by my first name and only when we were alone.

She’d been more like a sister than a cousin when we were growing up, and even more so after I’d lost my parents.

I trusted her with my life, and we both knew she was irreplaceable.

I appreciated her confidence in my abilities to woo the prince, but I didn’t want her to take any liberties on my behalf. “No meddling, Anika,” I warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my lord. Nice to have you home.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to be home.”

She touched the brim of her peaked cap in parting, and I entered my chambers to begin disrobing.

Normally, after a trip such as this, there would be a man on his knees waiting to service me, but since becoming betrothed, I’d forgone my usual selection of bedmates, which meant I had only my hand for relief.

Thoughts of the sturdy young prince trapped between myself and the ship’s gunnel filtered back to me as I removed my suit and silk undergarments.

The fabric brushed against my turgid cock, which hung weighty as a branch, the head of it swollen and tender.

I recalled the featherlight brush of the prince’s golden locks against my face while we conversed.

So stubborn and proud, yet cautiously willing to acquiesce.

Surely he’d felt my length against his firm backside, the possessive way my hands explored his chest and abdomen.

I’d wanted to unlace his trousers and caress what I suspected was a fantastic piece of work, but I was getting ahead of myself again.

The prince must come to me on his own, must ask–no, beg–for his appetite to be sated.

If I seduced him, he might accuse me later of manipulation or some vampyric sorcery.

No, the key to undoing the prince was to let the tension between us build to a breaking point.

Only then, would I entertain his advances.

In the meantime, I had my florid imagination.

Striding over to my wash basin, I gave myself a cursory cleaning.

The smell of the prince still clung to me, sea salt and his sharp, masculine tang that reminded me of the pine forests surrounding Emrallt Valley.

The way he’d trembled when I massaged my bite on his neck, his demand that I feed only from him.

I craved another taste of him. Salty and mineral-rich with a touch of honeyed fae sweetness, I imagined his viscous blood gliding over my tongue and slipping down my throat, quenching the fire within. Perhaps it was I who was bewitched?

I spilled some oil onto my hands and rubbed them together, then massaged both my cock and balls at once, getting the blood flowing as I pictured the prince kneeling before me on the plush carpets of my bedchamber.

The metal bands around his wrists would be linked by a chain, clamps would adorn both of his pert nipples (were they pink or were they brown?) and his cock…

Why, his cock would be caged in a device of my own making, his engorged flesh rebelling against the metal, just as his spirit would rebel against my will.

He would be a pleasure to train–his mouth, his hole–and a pleasure to deny.

I’d channel all of that unspent anger and aggression toward pleasing me, his lord and master, and in doing so, I’d compel the prince to confront his deepest desires.

The friction against my cock was now a liquid heat as I imagined Cedrych chained and bound by my bedside.

Teasing open his impertinent mouth, forcing his wet lips to part before sinking deep into that silken chamber to test the limits of his devotion, coaxing tears from his pretty blue eyes as he gagged around my girth.

And after I’d deposited my seed in his belly, and left the taste of me on his lips, only then would I uncage him.

Make him lie in my pillows with his wrists bound and his ankles anchored to my bedposts.

Defenseless and with the glow of humiliation, spread for the feast, I’d stroke him and suck him until he was thrashing on my mattress and begging the Goddess above for deliverance.

My cock erupted then, sending a splash of seed into the wash basin, the milky deposit evidence of my own craven desires for the prince’s submission. Would he consent to it? I hoped he might… eventually. But he’d surely make me work for it.

I would bring the prince to heel and show him what true devotion was. And by the time I sent him off to his next lover and eventual consort, I hoped he might regard me, if not fondly, than with a measure of respect, as the man who helped him discover his most naked, unvarnished self.