Page 25 of The Princesses of Ruin (The Princesses of Ruin #5)

Chapter twenty-three

Emillia

I don’t typically have moral quandaries around fucking a man—or a woman, for that matter. But Adrik is…different.

He’s too kind.

I can tell he’s one chaste kiss away from being in love with me. The feeling is more than a little intoxicating. I’ve had lovers hunger for me before, but their urges were all of the carnal sort, and so were mine.

But now…

Adrik’s hands glow with white magic, pure like his gods-be-damned little heart, and the fire in our tent burns hotter.

I wouldn’t typically allow a fire in the tent, but Adrik has proven over many cold nights that he can control the flames and the spread of heat.

He directs the smoke to an outlet vent easily, keeping us comfortable without having to resort to my original plan of sharing body heat.

I’d suggested it as a joke, of course, but his rejection of my initial advance stung at first, and I didn’t understand why. Now, I do. Whether I want to admit it out loud doesn’t make it any less true.

I wish I could feel for him the way I see he feels for me. I wish I could fall for him the way I know he’s falling for me .

But I can’t.

When this is all over, I’m going home. Wolfsheim needs saving, too, and I have a promise from a certain princess to make that happen.

My uncle’s army is vast, his power intense, and his ruthlessness unyielding.

Usurping him is not going to be an easy task, but it must be done, and I won’t force anyone to take on the burden with me.

I turn the pair of coneys over the fire, their roasted scent making my mouth water despite my sour mood. Adrik stirs a bubbling pot of chopped roots we pulled near another hare’s den.

“Quite the meal,” I say, yearning to end the awkward silence that fell after my admission.

He hums in acknowledgement.

I play with the frayed strings on the end of my drawers. “I’ve only had better fare in the palace.”

“It’s just svelka and rabbits.”

He doesn’t look up from his pot, or his fire.

Fuck.

I know I shouldn’t push this. I said I didn’t want to ruin him, and I don’t. He took it as rejection and he’s staying away from me—like he should. We need to work together to get the dire wolf fur, but beyond that, there’s no need to interact. I need to just…

Let it go.

I pull on my fur-lined trousers and shove my feet in my boots.

“Where are you going?” Adrik asks, a hint of concern in his voice that I savor.

“Taking a piss,” I say, throwing back the protective flap. A burst of cold air swirls past me and I step out into the storm, closing the tent behind me quickly .

I wish I actually had to take a piss. Anything to have a reason to be out here other than my foolish cunt, yearning for a cock in it. Perhaps I could finger-fuck myself to satiety.

The thought of masturbating sparks nothing in me but frustration. It wouldn’t be enough to just get off. I want to get him off. I want to hear him keen my name and grunt in satisfaction. I want to feel his sweat drip onto my chest and his heavy breath washing over my face.

“Emillia.” Adrik’s voice snaps me from the fantasy.

I huff out a hot sigh that steams around my face. “What is it?”

“Are you taking a piss right there?”

I want to laugh, but laughing would let him know he amuses me. It might give us both some kind of false hope.

“I’m…checking for threats before I find a spot.”

“Oh, right,” he says, his voice a little downtrodden. “That’s smart.”

I take a few steps away from the tent, listening to the wilds around us. The wind howls through the treetops, creating a bright orange background noise that drowns out the details of the others.

Adrik taps his stirring stick against the side of his cauldron, the silver tink tink tiiing of it trying to call me back to the tent.

I sense the blue wiggles of a lone shrew nuzzling into its tail for warmth somewhere nearby.

The volume of the wind makes it difficult to see where, but the red howls of a wolf are within a few miles, echoing like ripples on the rushing air above me.

I take a few more steps into the trees to scan the brush and fallen logs for any heartbeats, breathing, or signs of predators. There’s nothing.

Fine. I might as well take a piss .

“Emillia,” Adrik calls again, the tent flap opening with a bright yellow snap .

I whirl around. “What is it?”

He steps into the snow in just his thermal pants and unlaced boots, his coat thrown on hastily. He marches toward me, a determined look in his gaze that feels aggressive. My finger twitches on my thigh where the dagger was strapped earlier today but isn’t anymore.

Adrik reaches for my face, and I rear back on instinct, raising a hand to ward off his attack. He stops, the aggression in his eyes shattering straight to shock. To fear.

“I…” He blinks rapidly, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

Oh. Fuck.

Was he going to kiss me?

He stammers again. “I shouldn’t have—”

I grab the lapels of his coat and drag him into me.

Our lips connect with heat and smoke, the sound a purple swirl of lust in my mind’s eye.

I run my tongue along the seam of his lips, asking for entry.

He groans, adding a sparkle of white to the whirlwind of violet.

He pushes his arms into my jacket and wraps his arms around my back, pressing us together.

We fit so well.

I lean into him, grabbing the back of his head and tugging on his short hair. A weak whimper that bursts like sunlight ekes from his throat. Feral hunger descends, and I open my mouth into his. I need this. I need him.

“Wait,” Adrik says through my onslaught.

I pant as I pull back, biting my lip to keep from feasting on him again.

“You…” He swallows. “You need to piss.”

I laugh. “I needed to escape you. ”

His arms tighten on my back. “I’m already ruined, so you don’t have to worry.”

My heart is speared through. I loosen my tugging hold on his hair and cup the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

He shivers. “I like to be tied up.”

I can’t help but laugh again. This sweet, innocent man. He thought I was talking about kinks.

I kiss him gently. The only soft thing I’ll enjoy tonight. When I pull back, I see the bleeding devotion in his eyes. It hurts.

“I’m leaving when this is over.”

“But we need to get the dire wolf fur,” he says.

I shake my head. This silly man.

“Not that. I mean…”

He stares at me with big, hopeful eyes and shivers again, this one more violent.

“Come back to the tent with me.”

He doesn’t let go. “Explain first.”

He’s a stubborn thing, too. His nature speaks to my desires, and I fight the urge to pressure him into submission.

“When we’ve killed your queen, and Fynren is safe, there’s business I have to attend in Wolfsheim.”

He nods. “I understand.”

“Don’t get attached,” I say.

“I won’t,” he lies, the color of his words tainted gray. I don’t tell him I can see his dishonesty because I’m a selfish bitch who wants to fuck.

I tuck my face against his reddened cheek and kiss his neck. “Come to the tent with me. ”

He takes a step back but doesn’t let go. Another laugh bursts out of me, this one high and unrestrained, as we trudge little shuffles at a time toward the tent.

“We’ll get there faster if you let me go.”

“I don’t need to get there faster. I need to hold you.”

The words are pure white and glistening like sharp daggers against my chest. This stupid man is already in love with me.

And if I take him to bed, he will be heartbroken…

He peels back the tent flap and kicks off one boot, then the other as he steps inside.

I swallow the disgust for myself and follow him in.