It took twice as long as it should have, and I absorbed every second of it. This…control. His desire.Power.
When the last of my layers fell to the floor, I watched his eyes prowl over me, taking in all the little changes. They gradually widened, his brow knitting together in awe.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. I knew he meant it, too, and I’d needed to hear it. The change would make any woman uncertain, no less one whose husband had abandoned her bed.
His compliment might have relieved me, but it did little to ease the sins taking shape in the back of my mind. All the capital vices of man warred for dominance.
“Quiet.” I tugged him over to the bed. “Take off your clothes. Say nothing without my command, and don’t touch me until I say so. Do you understand?”
Nicolas’ eyes were dark with curious want. He nodded, working himself out of his finery.
I pushed him onto the mattress and climbed over him, holding his gaze. He shuddered beneath me, squeezed firm between my thighs, and I leaned forward to grab his wrists and pin him.
“I’ll use you,” I promised. “Like you’ve used others.”
He gasped when I moved my hips, teasing him with my heat. I could feel his forearms tensing between my fingers.
“Who are you lying with?” I asked.
Nicolas parted his lips. “You, Alana.”
“Remember that.” I sank onto him, rolling back my head. It had been too long, and my body was unused to him, but with a roll of my hips, I adjusted quickly.
I stopped being gentle. My hands freed one of his wrists and lowered to his mouth, to silence him as those groans escalated. Then to his throat, which he allowed, even when his breathing wore ragged.
My lips lowered to his chest, kissing a trail to his nipple. He shouted when I bit down, sinking his head back into the bed when my tongue smoothed him over.
I shushed him.
Fucked him.
Reminded him of where he was—below me—and denied his release for as long as I could, right up until my own senses faltered.
Then I said his name, not in love but in victory, and watched him come utterly undone.
Chapter 46
A month hadpassed since I’d taken the reins.
There were many nights like it—I would head to my room, only for my husband to divert me to that other chamber and beg for my affection.
It almost felt like a game: the amusement started the moment his arm locked in mine and ended with us in the dark, his worshipful gaze lingering on me until I was fast asleep.
The devotion did not end in the bedroom.
In the library, there was a fresh shipment of translated literature from Rividinya. Romances, dramas, comedies, and tragedies awaited my browsing, all gifts from Nicolas. I picked one among them, a social satire, and had Lord Mouse put the rest in the private section until I got around to reading them. Perks of being The Queen of Antier: I was the first to read anything that came through the castle, if I so wished.
With a book tucked into my arm, I approached Marcy and my ladies-in-waiting. Florence raised her brow as Winnie peeked into the corridor, shaking her head.
“Still there,” said Winnie. “Gods, what did you do to our poor king? He’s…”
“Utterly besotted,” Marcy filled in.
“Yes. Thank you, Siere.” Winnie frowned. “Did you cast a spell on him?”
Florence snorted. “That man is organically enchanted.”
I rolled my eyes, coming out into the corridor with all my little ducklings in tow. One, two, three…
