“Goddess, Killian,” I moan, and then yelp as his thumb finds my clit, swirling over the sensitive bundle of nerves as a third finger joins the other two inside of me.
“Good girl,” Killian says roughly, lavishing kisses and bites along my collarbone, up the column of my neck.
Using a move from the fighting rings, I hook a knee around Killian and flip us back over, relishing the feeling of power as I reposition us on the bed. He watches in amusement as my hands scramble at the tie of his pants, teasing the hard heat of him with my hands as I pull off the last of his clothing, ready to ride him until I find my satisfaction.
Killian lets me shimmy his trousers down his legs, but then as I climb back up him, he wraps a hand in my hair, yanking my face up until we’re looking each other straight in the eye.
I moan at the pull of my hair wrapped firmly in Killian’s fingers, his grip just tight enough. One of Killian’s signature moves in bed, the familiarity and promise in the feeling of his hand in my hair makes me even wetter until I’m dripping for him.
“Use your mouth, kitten,” Killian orders, pulling my face down toward his cock. I sink down eagerly, wrapping a hand around the base as I tease the tip with my tongue, loving the way his hips thrust involuntarily at the soft suction of my mouth.
Slowly, surely, I take as much of him into my mouth as I can. The thick head of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I groan around him at the sensation. Killian answers with a groan of his own, then uses his grip on my hair to move me up and down his shaft, my lips making a lewd popping noise as they stretch around the head and then push back down to take him in deeper.
I tongue the bottom of his cock as I take him deeper and deeper, moaning helplessly, tears pricking my eyes as he thrusts back up into my mouth. Just when I think I can’t take it any deeper, Killian yanks my head off him and pulls me up, positioning my hips above his and then yanking me down in one sharp motion.
I cry out, the exquisite fullness so intense that it’s almost pain. Killian doesn’t give me time to adjust, just uses his grip on my hips to pull me up and then sharply back down again, deeper than I thought possible.
I’m astride him, like I wanted, but the punishing pace is too much for me to match, I can’t find the rhythm. I let Killian move me instead, up and down his length until I’m babbling his name, pleading, saying I don’t know what, words with no meaning, as he drives me insane.
As I fall apart on top of him, Killian lets go too, that steely control slipping for a moment as he slams up into me a final time, finding his release.
Neither of us says anything afterward, just curling around each other in the bed, letting our breathing and heartbeats slow. I try to let myself relax, knowing that moments with Killian might be rare once I’ve graduated and need to head to the front. Try to focus on his warm body pressed into mine, and the hard planes of his stomach under my lazy touch.
But like every time I’ve shut my eyes over the past few weeks, a familiar image rises in my memory: that metal object glinting in the arena drain.
Dammit. Whatwasthat thing? And why do I keep waking upthereof all places? Is it just my anxiety around the Trials coming to life in my nightmares?
I know there’s a good chance that whatever I’m seeing is another delusion, just like the screams I heard or the carving under the tapestry.
The image won’t leave me. I have to find out if it’s real.
“Killian?” I venture, trying to keep my tone casual. “Do you know much about the Rawbond arena? Like, what’s underneath it?”
He makes a drowsy humming sound, one hand trailing aimless circles across my back. “Underneath? Just the drainage system, I assume. Why?”
I shrug. “I was wondering if there are secret passages and stuff there, too.”
He makes another contemplative hum. “Could be. This place is ancient—there’s much that I don’t know about it, even after living here my whole life. The castle has secrets I’ll probably never uncover.”
Something in his tone catches at me. I prop myself up on one elbow, studying his face. There’s nothing unusual to read there, however. He looks sated and a little sleepy.
The castle has secrets I’ll probably never uncover.
Strange. He’s the crown prince—shouldn’t he have access to every part of the castle? Shouldn’t he know all its nooks and crannies?
Maybe his father is keeping things from him. The more I get to know about King Cyril, the less I trust him.
“What’s the matter?” Killian asks, lifting one hand to trail his fingers across my cheek.
“Nothing,” I say, mustering a smile. “Just tired.”
Tired of your father’s shit. I know Killian has no love spared for the king, but also—it’s hisfather. Family is a blind spot for all of us. If it’s possible that the king is hiding something from Killian, would Killian even want to know?
Killian kisses me and gets dressed, heading back to his quarters to handle some of his royal duties. All the while, my mind spins.
He disappears through the wardrobe, and my mind spins.
I get dressed, too, and my mind spins.
