Page 99 of Wicked Prince of Frost

VIOLET

I pull back again,but before I can break away, Joon opens the channel. Power gathers and flows into him, as he siphons faster than ever before.

Joon’s hand splays over my chest as he abruptly closes the channel. His power floods into me, healing me. Then he’s siphoning again. Over and over, he repeats the pattern, not giving my heart a chance to fall into an episode. I can feel the strength in him returning through every shift of muscle.

The kiss lingers. After the fifth time—or is it sixth?—I wait for the channel to open again. Only it doesn’t.

The hazy thought that I should pull away enters my mind, but I’m not quite ready to stop.

I want to continue tasting him. To revel in the feel of our chests pressed together as his arms encircle me, holding me in place, the heat of him along my inner thighs as I straddle him.

When had I climbed on top of him?

My eyes snap open, and I jerk back. Joon’s strong embrace keeps the rest of my body in place.

Demons and saints… I am wantonly straddling the Crown Prince.

Ever since he kissed me in the field, I have become greedier by the day—trying to take more than I should. But this time, I have gone too far.

Embarrassment rushes through me, even though he doesn’t seem to notice. I am supposed to help him break the curse, and he is supposed to keep me alive until then.Thiswas never part of our bargain.

“Y-you’re injured,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to my ears.

Joon’s hands splay along my spine as he holds me against him. I don’t have it in me to even feign a weak attempt at trying to get away as his lips slowly trail along my jaw.

We should not be doing this.

“I am healed.” The low rumble of his voice mixes with the heat of his breath along the shell of my ear.

This is dangerous territory.

Dangerous for whom?

Me… a voice in the back of my mind whispers.

“Let me see,” I demand.

I feel him smile against my cheek. His arms loosen enough for me to crawl off him. I move around to his back.

Dancing flames cast a warm, flickering glow in the small room, but I can see the color has returned to his face. He is no longer concerningly pale.

Flakes of the dried salve still stick to him. I brush my palm over the area. A slight shudder rolls over him as I swipe the remainder away. Other than four faint, pink lines, he is whole again.

I sit back on my heels and take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m glad.”

Joon turns so that we are sitting side by side, facingopposite directions. He leans over my legs, planting his hand beside my hip. The position brings his face within inches of mine.

He was clear about how the siphoning process worked from the beginning—a necessary evil. Power requires a sense of intimacy to transfer. He is not doing this because he feels anything beyond his obligation to me. Yet, I’ve managed to lose myself in the process.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

Every inch of my body says no, but I manage to say, “Yes.” I lower my eyes to his shoulder, finding it hard to meet his gaze. “I was worried.”

The fire crackles in the hearth. Joon gently guides my chin toward him, so I have no choice but to meet his piercing gaze.

“Thank you,” he says. Two words that once sounded awkward the first time he uttered them are now full of sincerity.

“For what?”