But before I could act, she shifted again, this time with more purpose. Her hips rolled slightly, creating a friction that sent sparks up my spine. Was she still asleep? Or waking? Her breathing had changed, grown shallower. The hand that had been resting innocently on my chest now curled, fingers gripping my shirt.
“Isabeau,” I whispered, my voice strained. “You should—”
She moved again, more deliberately this time, her body settling so that my hardness pressed exactly between her thighs. Even through our clothing, the sensation was exquisite torture. I couldn’t help the small sound that escaped me, halfway between a groan and a plea.
I forced myself to lie completely still. Every muscle in my body tensed with the effort not to move, not to respond to the invitation her body seemed to be offering. Was this deliberate? Or was she caught in a dream of her beasts, imagining one of them beneath her instead of me?
The thought should have doused my desire like ice water. Instead, it only intensified the ache. I was no better than Gaspard, desiring what belonged to others. Wanting to claim what wasn’t mine to possess.
No. That was wrong. I was nothing like that monster. I wouldn’t take. Wouldn’t force. If Isabeau wanted this…wanted me, it would be her choice, freely made and clearly stated. Until then, I would endure this sweet agony without complaint.
Her eyes fluttered open, catching the amber light. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, confused by her position. Then awareness dawned, and with it, a flush that crept up her neck to stain her cheeks. She felt me. Felt my desire pressing against her most intimate place. Yet she didn’t pull away.
“Alain,” she breathed, my name a question on her lips.
Those lips. Oh sweet divine, those lips. Full and soft and slightly parted. I’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my life. I could almost taste her, almost feel the way she would yield beneath me, open to me. My hands tightened reflexively on her back, and she made a small sound in response. Not protest, but something dangerously close to encouragement.
She shifted again, a subtle movement that could have been accidental but felt far too deliberate. The pressure increased between us, and this time I couldn’t suppress the groan that built in my throat.
“We shouldn’t,” I managed, the words strangled.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes never leaving mine. “Because I am mated?”
She knew. Had she seen me in the dream-vision as the beasts had? Or was she simply that perceptive, reading the knowledge in my eyes?
“Yes,” I admitted. “And because you deserve better than a stolen moment in a magical tree while hunters track us through a cursed forest.”
A small smile touched her lips. “What if I want that stolen moment?”
Her honesty disarmed me completely. I’d expected denial, deflection, or embarrassment. Not this direct acknowledgment of desire. My hands trembled against her back as I fought for control.
“What about your beasts?” I asked, the question wrenched from somewhere deep inside me. “Your mates?”
She didn’t look away. Didn’t flinch from the truth between us.
“They know I’m not just theirs,” she said softly. “We’re bound, yes, but they felt you too.”
Her words hung in the air between us, freighted with meaning I was afraid to interpret. Then she moved again, more deliberately this time, rolling her hips in a way that left no doubt about her intentions. My control slipped another notch, hands sliding down to her waist of their own volition.
“Isabeau,” I whispered, her name both warning and prayer.
Outside our sanctuary, the forest waited. Gaspard hunted us. A witch plotted our destruction. Three beasts climbed an endless mountain in a hell dimension. Morning would come, and with it all the dangers we’d temporarily escaped.
But here, in this moment, with Isabeau warm and willing above me, none of that seemed to matter.
fifty-nine
Isabeau
My body knew what it wanted before my mind caught up. The heat between my thighs had been building since I woke to find myself sprawled across Alain’s chest, his hardness pressing against me through our clothing.
My beasts would always be mine, but so would he. I’d seen Marcel’s knowing look in the dreamscape, felt their acceptance of this man who’d become so much more than a prince to me. They were with me now, knowing what I planned to do. So whenAlain whispered my name like a prayer, I stopped fighting what my body had been telling me all along. He too belonged to me.
“I want this,” I whispered, surprising myself with how sure I sounded. “I want you.”
The amber light from the gem cast his face in golden shadows, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the desperate hunger in his eyes. Blue eyes that hadn’t left mine since I’d woken. Eyes that asked permission even as his body trembled beneath me.
“Are you certain?” His voice was strained, as if each word cost him. His hands remained at my waist, neither pulling me closer nor pushing me away. Giving me the choice. Always giving me the choice.
