It was the kind of kiss that could either be a heart-wrenching goodbye, or the first of a new chapter.
Fear and hope sucked the air from my lungs as he slowly retreated.
He cradled my elbow and guided me toward my bed, then past it.
“What are you doing?”
“Bringing you to bed, where I can show you how beyond worthy you are.”
With that statement, spoken with such surety and determination, something between us was sealed.
My elbow trembled in his grip as he led us through the interconnecting door between our rooms, the walls a blur of stone. And then we were in the quiet of his room, my back pressed against the door, my heart a heavy staccato in my ears.
He stood a step away, looking as he did when he first chased me down in the woods all those weeks ago. Leather armor molded to his torso, tunic sleeves rolled up around corded forearms, capable hands hanging beside muscled thighs. The top of his hair was pulled away from his face, highlighting every strong angle and plane, a reflection of all the power he’d made for himself. Power he used to stop Matthias from battering that servant, power he used to punish those who harmed others, power he was going to use to save this world as best as he could.
He memorized the sight of me, unbridled hunger painting his rugged features. But he didn’t close the space between us.
“I’m going to ask you this once. And you must know there is no going back from this.” Knees wobbling, I waited with patience I didn’t have. “Are you certain?”
He asked the question with such raw vulnerability, as if sayingnomight ruin him—the indomitable Princeps Harthon.
Then and there, I may have been the most powerful woman in the Territories, capable of tearing down this fearsome man who could not be stopped by steel or sword. But the truth was he had just as much power over me.
“Yes,” I breathed.
A strangled sound caught in his throat. I expected him to launch forward and crash his lips into mine, but all he did was offer his hand.
I took it, and he led me across the room to the bed. He nudged me to a seat on the edge and knelt before me with measured movements.
“W-what are you doing?” I stuttered. BecauseIwas being seared from the inside out, my breasts beginning to throb, thespace between my thighs aching with every thundering pulse. Skies, even myskinseemed to hurt because it was not yet on his.
That quickly, I was past anticipation. I was atexpectation, and he—he was just kneeling before me with all his damned clothing on.
His lips curled like he was aware of my torture. “You’ve already asked me this.”
I jumped when the back of his hand brushed my knee, trailing down to the top of my boot.
“Trust me,carella. I’m going to take very good care of you.”
I nodded, incapable of anything but choked sounds.
Harthon’s fingers found the laces of my right boot and methodically loosened them, removing it. He did the same with the other. One at a time, his fingers crawled up each of my calves, waking every nerve they skated over, until they hooked the tops of my socks and drew them down.
Then,thank the Domus,there was nothing left to occupy him at my feet.
His hands drew a path all the way up my thighs and hips to my leather vest, which shuddered with each shallow breath. With excruciating slowness, he pulled the lacing free, the backs of his hands brushing my sensitive breasts as he worked his way down. When it was undone, he pulled the article free from my shoulders and placed it aside, taking the damned time to fold it.
He’d said to trust him, and I did. But the man was determined to kill me—to wring out every one of my nerves through anticipation alone.
I knew this because it was with that same infuriating slowness that he reached behind my head and pulled my hair free. He undid the braid, then massaged my scalp, every pass sending pleasure tingling down my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, and he found my cheeks, tugging me forward gently as he finally—finally—brought his mouth to mine.
His lips molded to mine in a kiss that was both as leisurely as his movements, and more consuming than any before. He was tasting me, indulging in me, sealing us together as his tongue swept past my lips and his thumb stroked my cheek.
This man was wrecking me.
He pulled away, breathing as shallow as mine, and began to undress with a little haste. I fingered my tunic to pull it away.
“No.” A tapestry of muscles appeared as he shed his tunic. “That is mine to remove.”
