I believe him, but a strange tightness grips my chest, making it hard to breathe. What is it I truly want from him? I cast my gaze back towards the water, taking a few calming breaths to steady the molten core of my anxiety.
“Soraea,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear, causing a delightful heat to trace along my neck as he gently brushes my loose hair aside.
Panic seizes me as I pull back. “What’s your favorite color?” I blurt out, desperate for a delay to gather my courage. He pulls back slightly, a smile playing on his lips as he considers my question before responding.
“Green,” he replies, his eyes lighting up. “Or maybe white.”
I purse my lips, scrutinizing him closely, only making him chuckle.
“What do you like to do for fun?” My nerves soften as he leans back on his elbow with an effortless grace. It’s the air and attitude of the dark prince, cocky and assured.
He exudes total confidence, the kind of princely charm that captivates everyone around him. Instead of feeling annoyed, I am surprised at how endearing I find it. Anders carries himself with a barrier between him and everyone else—except Trysten and me, allowing us glimpses of the authentic man beneath the title.
He reclines on the boulder, one leg bent and looking comfortable, while I remain seated, the rough texture pressing into my palms as I steady myself. His button-down shirt, a soft charcoal, clings to his broad shoulders and chest and is unbuttoned just enough to reveal a small patch of skin. If the gods had crafted a man specifically for me, I’m sure he would be the embodiment of that ideal. A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and without thinking, I sweep it aside.
He sighs at my touch, but his reaction quickly shifts to one of pure awe, as if my simple gesture struck a chord within him. He swallows thickly, and I sense that the distance between us is beginning to dissolve.
“FinSurfing, reading, flying, and playing with my sister,” he replies.
The last one surprises me. Princess Clara can’t be more than nine years old. The thought of him spending time with her fills my chest with a strange warmth I didn’t expect. He had taken her to Kliax, and I wish I could have met her, but my temper always seems to get in the way.
“What’s FinSurfing? You’ve mentioned it before.”
He looks at me in disbelief for a moment before sitting up straighter, bringing our eyes to the same level. “You’ve never—” he hesitates. I see excitement cross his features, as if he can’t wait to teach me. “You’re coming with me over break. Most of our planets have regular whales, the kind we all hear about, but on Kolari, Aquarion, and Malaya, we have Tesinik Whales. They’re smaller than the whales you might think of, but they’re incredibly fast. If you time itjust right, you can ride on their fins. They seem to enjoy it just as much as we do, but it takes skill to balance without slipping off.”
As he speaks, his eyes light up at the memories of FinSurfing alongside Trysten and Cole during their childhood. I watch him, excited to see the real him, the man who isn’t burdened by a crown. I find myself completely captivated. The prospect of watching him in action excites me. Maybe I’d even let him teach me.
“Why do you prefer ‘Ryker’?” I let the question fall out of me. I’ve been so torn since the start of school.
Everyone calls him Ryker, yet I can’t seem to figure out if he actually likes it or not. I stopped using Soraea because it was a mouthful, but I still use it...sometimes. I remember the day I told my parents I wanted to be called Raea. They seemed so sad, but they respected my wishes, introducing me as Raea from then on. At home, though, occasionally, they’ll slip and call me by my full name. I wonder if it’s similar for him. When I glance back at him, his expression shifts, becoming distant for a moment as he contemplates the question.
“Prince Anders is my official title, the name I present to the entire system. But for my friends, and those closest to me, ‘Ryker’ just stuck. It was the first time I could feel like someone without the weight of my crown.” My heart sinks a little as I absorb his words.
“I’m sorry.” An unexpected guilt creeps in. I’ve demanded to be called Raea, yet I haven’t offered him the same respect. It never occurred to me that he might actually prefer Ryker over Anders. “What do you want me to call you?”
His gaze meets mine again, and he offers a small, gentle smile. “Whatever you want.” He means it, and I can sense the sincerity behind it. I know that feeling—the longing to be a person instead of a title. Deciding to give it a try, I turn and face him.
“Ryker,” I say, feeling slightly self-conscious. The name feels weird on my tongue. He laughs softly and pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around me as I settle snugly into his side.
Ryker.
Ryker.
The more I say his name, the more it settles over me.
“Ryker.”
I continue the questioning until a chill in the air has me rubbing my arms to keep warm. Without a word, he brings our bodies together. The cool air is no longer an issue when I settle into his heat, all the while continuing to talk as if he didn’t just shift the whole atmosphere around me.
I remain quiet, savoring the warmth radiating from him—it’s more than just physical. I love hearing his voice and the stories he shares. Thoughts of Professor Becca’s advice replay in my mind. If we are indeed fated to Bond, then I want whoever I give my heart to be a choice, not a consequence. I want to be sure that, should I give it to him, it’s done with full intent and understanding. I want control.
It’s late when my resolve steals my spine. With the twin moons casting long shadows, I twist up to my knees. He promised me no Bonding, and…well…it's time for that kiss that keeps me daydreaming. There’s only a heartbeat’s hesitation before my mouth slams into his. For a second, he doesn’t move, probably from the shock of it, and then he cups his hand under my hair, tugging me closer, demanding total control.
For him, for this kiss, I relent.
A burst of energy shakes the trees around us, its power exploding outward like a wave. His fingers tug at the strands of hair at my nape, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss. His lips are soft and gentle for only a moment before a sort of desperation takes over, and that claiming kiss he promised…he delivers tenfold.
I never knew a kiss could be like this, but I surrender as a raw hunger overtakes him. Our mouths meld in a deliberate slide and press as a need and want so powerful reverberate through me. I can feel him. Not just the heat of his skin, or the rough rasp of his stubbled jaw, but his emotions. I realize the potent blend of desire and fierce protectiveness isn’t mine, but his. I only hesitate for a moment before he’s pulling me back so that my body is flush with his.
