Page 41 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

A growl rumbled in his chest. One hand slid up my thigh beneath my skirts, his cool fingers finding heated flesh and his claws brushing against the soft warmth of my inner thigh. "Here? Against this wall? I suppose it’s good I locked the door or else someone might walk in on us."

I should have been scandalized. Should have protested. But all I could do was nod, my body arching against him as his knee continued its torturous rhythm.

His fingers found the edge of my undergarments, and then his hand was on me, really on me, and I cried out. He swallowed the sound with his mouth, kissing me deeply as his clawed fingers explored, stroking and circling until I was trembling in his arms.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “That’s how I’ll remember this night. The way you trembled for me. The fact that we have come to this point, and that we have found something beautiful to share with one another before all is tested and the world risks falling away.”

“If we do this, will it keep us from completing the ceremony tomorrow night?” I asked, staring up at him. “Can we still have a wedding to satisfy the curse?”

“Yes, we can still have a public ceremony.” Another low chuckle tumbled from his lips.

“If we’re doing this in strict tradition, the couple pledges to one another first, then they have the public ceremony later, typically followed by the coronation.

” He kissed me again on the cheek and down my neck, then found my lips again as his clawed fingers teased me with care.

“I pledge myself to you, my one and only, my sweet, my thorned queen beneath the blood moon. I give you everything I am—claws, crown, breath, and shadow.”

I returned the kiss, my eyes shuttering as I breathed him in.

Then I found my own words. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, Vetle.

I don’t know if we’ll have a future, or just this one fragile night.

But I pledge myself to you, my one and only, my love, my shadowed king beneath this blood moon.

I give you everything I am—heart, breath, and strength. Whatever I am.”

I arched against him, heat pooling low in my belly as his touch grew bolder.

My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as I kissed him with a desperation I didn't know I possessed. Every nerve ending felt alive, sparking with sensation wherever his skin met mine. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

His cool thumb pad circled slowly, deliberately, and I gasped against his mouth. The cold marble at my back was a stark contrast to the heat flooding through me, grounding me even as I felt like I might float away.

I felt him shift, heard the rustle of fabric as he freed himself and maneuvered. Then the blunt pressure of him was there, pressing against my entrance. My breath caught as my eyes shuttered.

"Look at me," he said.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his burning amber gaze. The intensity there stole what little breath I had left.

"I love you," he said again, the words fierce and reverent at once. Then he pushed forward, filling me in one slow, deliberate thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming—the stretch, the fullness, the coolness, the way he seemed to reach every part of me. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his robe.

He held still, giving me time to adjust, his forehead pressed against mine. "Breathe," he murmured. "Just breathe. And if you need me to stop, tell me, and I will. I don’t want this to hurt."

I nodded, drawing in shaky breaths as my body accommodated him. The initial sting faded, replaced by a deep, aching need.

"We should—" I tried to form coherent thoughts, but they scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. "We should probably—oh—"

He'd found a particularly sensitive spot, and my words dissolved into a moan.

His hand slid to the small of my back, angling my hips as he withdrew slightly and then thrust back in. The new angle sent pleasure spiraling through me, and I barely held back the cry that escaped my lips.

"That's it," he murmured against my throat, his breath cool on my heated skin. "Let me hear you."

He set a rhythm then, slow and deep, each movement deliberate. The marble scraped against my back through the gown, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way he filled me, the sound of his breathing growing ragged, the feel of his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.

My legs tightened around his waist, pulling him deeper. One of his hands left my hip to brace against the wall beside my head, his claws scraping stone as he increased his pace.

"You feel—" His words broke off into a groan. "Perfect. You are perfect."

So was he.

I kissed him, hungry and desperate, swallowing his sounds as he swallowed mine. The tension coiling in my belly wound tighter with each thrust, building toward something incredible.

His thumb found that sensitive spot between us again, circling in time with his movements. The dual sensation was almost too much. My head fell back against the wall, my eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure built and built.

"Look at me," he commanded again, his voice rough. "I want to see you when you come apart."

I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze. The hunger there, the possessiveness mixed with something tender and awed—it pushed me over the edge.

The climax hit me like lightning, white-hot and all-consuming. I cried out his name, my body clenching around him as pleasure rolled through me in devastating waves. He followed moments later, his own release shuddering through him as he buried his face in my neck, my name a prayer on his lips.

We stayed like that for long moments, both of us trembling, our harsh breathing the only sound. Slowly, carefully, he lowered me until my feet touched the ground, though he kept his arms around me. My legs felt like water.

"Are you all right?" he asked, brushing hair back from my face.

I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. My whole body hummed with aftershocks of pleasure, my mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened.

He adjusted my gown, smoothing the fabric with tender care before fixing his own clothing. His crown had fallen completely askew, and I reached up to straighten it, my fingers trembling slightly.

"We should probably return to the celebration," I managed, though the last thing I wanted was to face a crowd right now. "Before someone comes looking for us."

"Let them look." He pulled me close again, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "But yes, we should after we clean up. There are still matters to attend to before dawn.”

We made our way back through the narrow passage, and I was grateful for the dim lighting that hid the flush still burning in my cheeks.

My legs felt unsteady, and Vetle kept his arm around my waist—whether to support me or simply because he wanted to touch me, I couldn't say. Perhaps both. And I didn’t mind either.

He guided me to a small washroom off one of the adjoining corridors. The space was simple but functional, with a basin of clean water and soft grey towels stacked on a shelf. I cleaned myself as best I could, my hands still trembling slightly as I straightened my gown and tried to tame my hair.

When I emerged, Vetle was waiting, looking as composed as if we'd simply stepped away for a quiet conversation rather than—I pushed the thought away before the heat could return to my face. Had we really just done that? The blush returned in full force.

He offered his arm, and I took it, letting him lead me back toward the courtyard. The music grew louder as we approached, accompanied by laughter and the sound of many voices talking over one another.

We stepped through the archway, and I braced myself for stares, for knowing looks, for some sign that everyone knew exactly what we'd been doing. But the celebration was in full swing, and everyone seemed content to let us keep our dignity.

More or less.

Candice flashed me a knowing smile that made my cheeks burn hotter. Doctor Rasoul was still hovering near his plant, but when I glanced in his direction, he was chuckling about something.

Vetle led me back onto the dance floor as the music shifted to something livelier. Other couples whirled around us, their movements fluid and elegant. I stumbled slightly, still not quite steady on my feet, and he caught me with ease.

"Tired already?" His voice held a teasing edge as he pulled me close.

"Whose fault is that?" I shot back, then immediately regretted it as his eyes darkened with satisfaction.

He spun me gently, and I focused on matching his steps, on the rhythm of the drums and the haunting call of the flute. Around us, the celebration continued—children darting between dancers, guards standing watch along the walls, the scent of roasted meat and mushrooms drifting from the tables.

Osric appeared beside us, tugging on Vetle's outer robe. "Look!" He thrust another painting toward us, this one showing what looked like the palace under a bright sun, colors blazing across the canvas. "I did another one."

Vetle smiled down at him, genuine warmth softening his features. "It's beautiful, Osric. You've outdone yourself."

“When we’re in the Waking Lands, I want to get all of the colors.” He beamed, then darted away again.

Vetle and I danced through several more songs, and I found myself relaxing into the rhythm, into the strength of his arms around me.

I let myself sink into this moment, into the feeling of being loved and wanted and safe in his arms.

The music swelled, and he dipped me low, his face hovering above mine as his eyes glinted with focused desire. When he pulled me back up, I was breathless and laughing, my earlier nervousness forgotten.

"I could dance with you forever," I whispered against his ear.

His arms tightened around me. "Then let's make forever happen."

The blood moon had sunk lower on the horizon now, its dull red glow deepening to crimson as it prepared to set. I caught glimpses of it between the palace towers, counting down our remaining time.

How many hours did we have left? Twenty? Sixteen? And how many before we knew whether this plan would work.

My heart clenched, my mouth going dry. Fear threatened to overwhelm me.

"What are you thinking?" Vetle asked, his hand pressing firm against my lower back and keeping me fully against him.

"That I want more time with you," I admitted softly, unable to speak of what I feared would actually happen. "More nights like this. More mornings waking up beside you. More everything."

"You'll have it." His voice held such certainty that I almost believed him. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I will make sure you have a future.”

The words had barely left his lips when the ground bucked and ripped beneath us.