He makes a tiny feral sound when I struggle to pull away. A hard, callused palm presses against my abdomen and pulls me back into him.
“May your night be short, Talysse,” he rasps in my ear, his hot breath stiffening my nipples under the breast band.
Well, how to sleep in a situation like this? The hot, hard plane of his chest glued to my bare back; every slow, deep beat of his heart tangible; his fingers resting just inches away from my soaked folds.
Praise the Elders; he’s still wearing pants, yet there’s still the hard outline of something massive pressed against my nearly bare ass.
I’m panting, my nipples painfully straining against the breast band. Body and mind are fighting over melting into him, surrendering to his warmth, or packing the blanket and moving to the floor. Murderous thoughts also cross my tired brain, already walking the thin line to madness.
He is my enemy.
A ruthless, power-hungry Unseelie who sent my family to death.
But how to convince my body that this is wrong? That his arms around me, his even breathing, that wretched feeling of safety I’ve never experienced before—that this is all a sin?
Those are troubles for the daylight.
“You’re safe with me, Talysse,” he murmurs as if talking in his sleep.
And he’s right. Sleeping in the arms of a Shadowblade wielder must be the safest place in this damned world unless he’s trying to kill you, which might be the case here…
Then he does something mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time.
His callused fingers start drawing tiny circles on my lower stomach, gently, like butterflies, and he whispers into my ear, “Sleep, Talysse.”
The Prince
Death at Dawn
Time has stopped here, in the golden warmth of this forgotten hut.
Talysse’s supple body is melting in my arms, her skin so soft. Her long hair cascades down the stained, tattered covers like black silk. It’s impossible to resist such a temptation, and I inhale deeply, savoring the smell of hyacinth and sunshine. Of something pure and beautiful, like a sweet dream you cannot remember in the morning but desperately try to fall back asleep just to return there.
Something not meant for a black heart like mine.
The hands that hold her are drenched with blood. How many innocents have I sent to their deaths? How many lives have I destroyed?
Guilt gnaws on me, just like every other night, and the shadows around us thicken.
I might be a damned sinner without any hope for redemption, but I’ve promised Talysse that she’s safe here with me. So I prop myself on an elbow and watch over her sleep.
Even villains like me have the right to dream.
The plunge in the cavern lake has washed away the grime from her face, and the freckles on her skin draw unknown constellations. She’s fast asleep, yet I still draw soothing circles on her stomach, in awe at the way she trusted me. Having someone in my arms, at my mercy, trusting me so blindly is a new experience.
She’ll be dead soon; that’s the way the Nightfall Trials go, either by my hand or—if the Elders are merciful to me—by the hand of someone else. The thought of hurting her disturbs me deeply; it’s like a briar rising from the gloomy depths of my soul, its thorns ripping at my heart, drawing thick, red blood. I choose to ignore this darkness and focus on the warmth of her body molded into mine, her even breathing, and that tender, maddening scent.
My damned body, so unused to closeness, reacts.
I curse softly when my cock strains painfully against my pants, afraid she might feel it.
The fairest court ladies have clawed their faces over my attention, using all the tricks of the Unseelie seduction, yet I have never felt such fire inside me.
And it is so wrong.
She hates me for what I did to her family.
And I have a trial to win.
