All theseweeks?
I manage to tear my eyes from his just long enough to see who the letter is from.
Char.
My brow creases even more, and I frown. A fuckingletter.I don’t even want to look at him.
“Don’t worry,” Ryjax finally says, clearing his throat as if a lump has formed. “You’ll see him soon.”
See him soon?That’swhat he thinks I’m worried about? What I’vebeenworried about?
I want to smack him. He more than deserves it, but for some reason, I can’t even lift my gaze to meet his.
I can’t move.
I can’t sayanything, and then the bastard turns to leave.
Fuck. That.
“No,” I seethe, grinding out the word through teeth that couldn’t be more clenched. I drop the letter to the ground, and Ryjax turns to face me, his eyes pinned on where the parchment rests on the floor. “You don’t get to walk away. Not after all this time. Are youserious?”
I’m barely able to control my rage, and if I had felt this way two months ago, surely I would have already burst into a ball of fire.
But I’m stronger now.
More in control.
So my flames remain concealed beneath the surface of my skin.
But I still feelhot.
So hot, andhe’s the reason why.
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, my lips collide with his and everything disappears into a beautiful haze of golden mist.
Like a million tiny suns behind my eyelids, the most transcendent thing I have ever seen. A warmth like no other washes over me,drowningme,devastatingme, radiating from the place we’re so intimately connected.
I pull myself closer, clinging to him like he’s the air I need to breathe, the one thing—
He hasn’t moved.
His lips are still.
His body tense.
And I freeze.
What the fuck did I just do?
For weeks now my feelings for the prince, thisman, have done nothing but grow, tormenting every part of me, every waking moment of my day, and somehow, in all that time…never once had I considered that he did not feel the same.
Horrified, I pull away,and he lets me.
I turn my back to him as my shoulders shake—shit, my entire bodyshakes.
He doesn’t want me.Of course, he doesn’t want me. He is theprince, and I am no one.
“Just go,” I say, needing him to leave, needing him to not see the mess I am about to become.
