Eight
Peroen waited, his breathing ragged, needing Yslie’s answer. Words—declarations—fought his control, wanting to be voiced. But until he understood why she had come to the city, he couldn’t say them. He couldn’t give in to the pull between them without knowing what she wanted long term.
“W—what do you mean?”
“You aren’t like Triese or Odela, set on becoming empress. You knew nothing about me, so if your goal wasn’t the title I could give you, why did you agree to come?”
She pulled back, and Peroen let her go. He watched confusion morph into a pain she tried to hide, and had his arms back around her before she could take another step back. “I need to understand what you want.” His arms tightened. “If we go any further, and I want to—you must know how much I want to—then I need to know what to expect. I’m not going to assume that physical attraction equates to a willingness to marry me. But if you don’t tell me so now, I will hope. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do my duty toward Pynth if I hope and then lose you, Yslie.”
Her arms wrapped around him, and this time when she pulled back, it was only enough to meet his gaze. “I don’t care about becoming empress, but I care about you, Peroen.” She licked her lips, and he followed the motion of her tongue with greedy eyes. “I came to Kalitalo because I couldn’t stand the idea of Triese becoming empress. But I stayed for you. Otherwise, I’d have thrown my support behind Odela, then slipped away.”
He didn’t tell her that Odela was only a slight step above Triese in his mind, that Sophenie would have been his second choice. Because he didn’t need a second choice. “Marry me, Yslie. Be my partner through all that comes next. Let me love you.”
Amber eyes, bright with unshed tears, met his. “My conscience says I should remind you that I’m not the most popular at court, nor am I experienced with politics. Despite being an oracle, I can’t see the future. I might be a horrible choice for empress. In fact, the Assembly will never choose me if they revoke your right to make the decision.”
“You underestimate how much of an impression you made on the Assembly members the other night. You have supporters. And you might have already thwarted their plans to take away my choice. Together, we can learn to handle anything else the Assembly throws at us—and the court doesn’t matter.”
Peroen paused, trying to decide how to word his next reassurance. He’d heard Triese disparage Yslie’s power already; how many times must she have heard the same thing? It was no wonder she considered her power useless, if that was what those around her always told her. He wouldn’t change her mind on that point quickly, but he could still convince her that it didn’t matter.
“If I weren’t required to marry an oracle,” he said, hoping she’d believe his sincerity, “then I wouldn’t care that you are one at all. Your magic isn’t a consideration for me—though you don’t give yourself enough credit for how useful looking into the past can be.
“Most importantly, you are the only empress I want. You are all I want.” Peroen pressed his lips against her forehead, then pulled back. “Now that we’ve addressed your conscience, what does your heart tell you?”
“My heart is already yours.” She pressed her fingers to his cheek. “You are everything I dreamed of, but told myself I could never have.”
“You have me, Yslie, and I’ll do everything in my power to make all your dreams come true.”
“You already have.” This time she initiated the kiss, and it was sweetness and hope and love.
For an endless eternity, the kiss was everything: all Peroen wanted, all he needed. Then tenderness wasn’t enough. It didn’t give way. It was still in every stroke of his tongue, every press of his fingers against her, but desire, hot and urgent, slipped in alongside the tenderness. His hands roamed up and down, until one slipped under the edge of her tunic.
Her skin was soft against the calluses on his fingertips, but she didn’t pull away from the contact. She moaned and pressed closer. He followed a meandering path, needing to touch all of her, not wanting to rush, and finally reached the underside of her breast.
She arched into the contact. “Yes. Yes.”
He tugged the tunic up, and Yslie eagerly helped him pull it over her head. She went for his vest next, but he bent, cupping her breast and swirling his tongue around her nipple. “You are so incredible,” he whispered against her delicate skin. “Your heart. Your mind.”
He caught the waistband of her trousers and underwear and dropped to his knees, pulling the cotton with him. He looked up at her, his hands on her ankles, his voice thick with desire. “Your body.”
She stepped free of the clothes, her hands resting on his shoulders for balance. Then she tried to tug him upright. “You shouldn’t kneel for me.”
He ran his hands up her calves. “I would crawl for you. You deserve everything.”
???
Peroen didn’t give Yslie a chance to argue. The first stroke of his tongue had her knees buckling, but he was there, supporting her. She tangled one hand in his hair, but instead of pushing him away, she held him closer. “Peroen!”
Her thoughts splintered. There was nothing but waves of pleasure, the heat of his mouth, the feel of him, strong, steady. Determined.
The climax tore through her.
She was distantly aware of finally losing her balance—or maybe that was Peroen urging her down onto cushions she didn’t remember seeing. He stretched out next to her, running a hand up her stomach, but stopping just below her breasts. His thumb swept back and forth, brushing the underside of one and sending shivers through her.
Peroen leaned over her, balanced on one arm. “Do you understand yet what you mean to me? How important you are?”
“You make me feel too important,” she admitted, tracing the curve of his cheek with her finger.
He kissed her, his teeth sinking into her lower lip just enough to sting before he pulled back. “Then you haven’t learned your own value yet. I’ll have to try harder to teach you.”
It was wonderful in a way Yslie couldn’t articulate to have a man so intent on putting her first, but it wasn’t what she wanted. Certainly not with Peroen. She rolled over, straddling him. He had taken off his vest and shirt without her noticing, and now she braced her hands on the firm planes of his chest. She leaned over him, her hair falling around them in a curtain of darkness. “I’m not the only one who needs to learn. You are important, too. Why don’t we teach each other?”
She rocked against him, his trousers doing nothing to soften the steel of his cock. He groaned, and she repeated the motion. She lowered herself, until her breasts barely grazed his chest, and whispered in his ear. “Together, Peroen. I’ve been drinking the contraceptive brew.” Her cheeks didn’t blaze at the admission. Not with him. “I want everything.”
His hands clamped on her hips. “Together,” he agreed. “Always together.”
“You know,” she said, rubbing against him, making them both moan, “if we are partners—equal—you should be naked, too.”
“Yes.” But he didn’t release her hips, and she didn’t try to pull away. The sensations were too good.
But she knew it could be even better. “I need you inside me, Peroen.”
“Yes,” he repeated, and this time he moved. Flipping Yslie onto her back, he took her mouth in a fierce kiss, then pulled away. His trousers were on the ground a moment later, and she welcomed him back into the cradle between her thighs.
He didn’t waste any time, slowly pushing into her. “So perfect, Yslie. So tight and wet.”
She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles and pulling him the final bit inside. “Not just me,” she corrected with a moan. “We’re perfect together.”
“Yes.” The word dragged out of him at the same torturous pace as his movements. He pulled almost all the way out, then repeated the slow glide back in. “You were made for me, and I for you.”
“Yes,” she agreed, lifting her hips.
They met halfway, and then they lost themselves in ecstasy, moving faster. Deliberation gave way to instinct.
Peroen’s dark eyes stayed locked with Yslie’s, and she couldn’t stop herself from spiraling tighter and tighter. But she refused to shatter alone. “Now, Peroen. Now!”
They came together. Two bodies, one pleasure. One heart.
It took longer to surface from the glow of release this time. Yslie tucked herself closer to Peroen and allowed herself the peace of enjoying the moment. She didn’t care that the cushions had been shoved aside, that she rested on the hard floor. She knew she’d revisit this memory with her power over and over for the rest of her life.
Peroen smoothed a hand down her back, stopping on the swell of her bottom. Then he shifted, rolling so that she rested on him instead of the wood. “Sorry about the floor. I had intended to make it to the bedroom.”
“Even if we had ended up in a storeroom rather than your suite, I’d regret nothing.”
“Yslie?”
She froze at the uncertainty in his voice. “Yes?”
“I love you. I don’t think I said that yet.”
She relaxed against him. “I love you, too.”
“You’ll marry me, then?”
She lifted her head, reality creeping into her dream-come-true. “We probably need to deal with the Assembly before we make such a commitment.”
“No. This isn’t about politics. I want to spend the rest of my days—and nights—with you. Will you marry me, Yslie?”
A “yes” was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t ignore politics so easily. She knew all too well what it meant to be powerless. She knew the pain of hoping, then having those hopes torn away. She knew better than to celebrate when others could still interfere.
“Yslie?”
“I want to,” she whispered before sitting up. She looked around, spotted her tunic just within reach, and grabbed it. “I want to say yes and ignore everything else. But what if the Assembly votes to make the choice for you?”
“Then the Assembly can find a different puppet to place on the throne after my father.” Peroen reached for her, but she pulled on the tunic and stood.
Then she paced. “Can you live with yourself if you give up your inheritance?”
He stood. “I can’t live without you, Yslie. What is a title without power compared to that?” He yanked on his trousers. “But I suppose you wouldn’t be able to live with me if I gave up the throne. That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it?”
His pain and doubt tore at her. “Not because of your title! If you weren’t the prince, then I wouldn’t even hesitate to say yes.”
“Then why hesitate now? If the Assembly allows me to pick my bride, I’ll choose you. If they don’t, then I’ll renounce my title and still choose you.”
“And everything that comes after will be on us,” she said softly. “The crown still has influence, if not overt power. If we walk away, who will take our places? Can we really live happily ever after if we turn our backs on the future of the entire empire?”
His shoulders drooped. “I don’t know. But I am positive I can’t be happy marrying another woman. Do I owe the empire a life of misery? Should I martyr myself?”
“No.” If he had asked her if she should sacrifice herself, her answer would have been different. But she couldn’t tell Peroen that his happiness didn’t matter. It did. She turned back to him, hugging him close and pressing her ear over his heart. She counted its beats, letting the steady rhythm soak into her. “What do we do?”
“We don’t give up. We still have time to convince the Assembly not to take away my choice. Even if that fails, we can convince them that you are the right choice. We fight, Yslie. And if the time comes that we have to make a hard decision, we do it together.”
“Together,” she promised, pressing a kiss right above his heart.
Peroen claimed her mouth with his own, and soon tunic and trousers were back on the floor. They made love with slow deliberation, drawing each moment out.
But they still didn’t make it to the bedroom for quite a while.