16. Killian
I’ve lost my mind.
One taste of her will never be enough. Briar knows exactly what she’s doing, and now she knows I’m susceptible to her misbehavior.
If I were to put her over my knee and spank her bottom red, she’d deserve it. A thought that does nothing to diminish the raging erection I now must contend with.
Briar’s determined to be the opposite of useful in this regard. She pulls herself upright, her petal-soft skin flushed pink, lips parted and glossy from the bruising kiss I gave her as punishment for her antics, not that it worked.
We both turn away from one another when a scribe’s shadow darkens one end of the row.
“Is everything alright, Your Highness?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she says, bending to gather the fallen books. “I was clumsy and knocked them off the shelf. I hope they aren’t damaged.”
The scribe hastens over. “Allow me, Princess. No matter how often we dust, books simply seem to collect it. I don’t want to get your dress dirty.”
Briar smiles sweetly and expresses her thanks. The scribe, a bald man whose sole experience with sex is probably his own wrinkled right hand, beams at her. I cannot believe how easily people fall under her spell. She is, undoubtedly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever beheld, but I never realized how much power there is in beauty.
No wonder Alistair covets her.
No wonder every man does.
I examine the row of tiny, even teeth marks on my once-perfect white glove. She fucking bit me. Hard enough to hurt, but the pain was a jolt straight to my dick. And then she moaned under my kiss like she wanted to swallow me whole.
I glance at the ornate clock and do a quick calculation in my head. Sixty-four hours left until I’m free of her forever. Less than three days before I have my own castle, where I can lock myself away and sulk about the fact that Alistair has what I want.
Or I can say fuck the castle, and fuck the princess instead.
Damn everything. I might have finally met a challenge I can’t conquer.
I’d be publicly quartered, beheaded, and my cock stuffed in my mouth for treason if I laid a hand on her. Alistair would feed my corpse to the very monsters I once hunted. Even if she did want to run away with me—and that’s not at all certain—where would we go? To Isanthia, the homeland she’s barred from on pain of death? Beg mercy from the fae?
Neither place seems likely to welcome us, especially not with Alistair’s army hard on our heels. He’d chase after her. He wouldn’t rest until he dragged her back here and married her. He is that obsessed with the legendary Sleeping Beauty, and it’s twisting him into a beast.
Just as it’s doing to me.
Absently, I rub the scar through my sleeve. It writhes whenever she touches me, like a living thing beneath my skin.
I can resist her for one evening, one full day, and one morning. In between, we’ll be asleep. I just have to keep her in her rooms or in public view at all times—and keep a sharp watch for her little tricks like the one she pulled on the ladder.
“Let’s go, Princess.”
“Where?”
She smooths her skirt and exchanges pleasantries with the smitten scribe.
“To your rooms. You’re grounded until tonight’s ball.”
I fully intend to lock her in there with her maid, the one place I’m permitted to seal her away and take a break from acting as her guard dog, so I can take care of my own case of raging blue balls before tonight’s torture test.
Briar
The damsel in distress act didn’t work on Killian—the way he grips my upper arm and marches me out of the library does squirmy things to my stomach even though he is undeniably furious with me—but it was useful for providing cover. Judging from the way the scribe rushed over to inquire whether I needed assistance, he didn’t suspect a thing.
Killian’s reputation among the ladies of this castle seems to involve a lot of unrequited lust. If I understand the seamstress’ gossip correctly, there was a time when he could be relied upon for a quick and fulfilling encounter, yet he never took a regular lover. Part of me is jealous.
The rest of me chooses to believe that he’s been waiting for me.
Outside the library, he releases his bruising hold on my arm but steers me in the direction of my private chamber like a human sheepdog. Cutting in front of me when I blithely attempt to continue past the turn.
I smile innocently. He scowls.
His scowl deepens when I pull the same trick a few minutes later. He herds me back on track.
“I still get so confused in this castle.” I smile slyly at him, letting him know the game is still on. A pair of stoic royal guards stationed on either side of the entrance to the wing where I’ve been given rooms actually smile in return when I cast a cheerful wave in their direction.
“Fools,” Killian mutters.
My cheeks ache from smiling so much. Charming and innocent. That’s me. Briar Rose, the woman kept under glass for a hundred years.
But he sees my darkness. Killian sees me.
When we arrive at my chamber and discover it empty, he snaps.
“Where are your maids?”
“I dismissed them for the afternoon.” I pace the huge room, wrenching my hands up behind my back. “The dressmakers tied my laces too tight. I cannot quite get the knot untied. If you would be so kind as to assist me, Sir Ironheart?—”
In a flash, he whirls me hard enough to bell my skirt out around my calves. He moves in close, forcing me to stumble back a few steps until my back presses against the carved wooden bedpost.
“The game you’re playing, little brat, is a dangerous one.”
“For whom?” I ask primly as everything inside me melts. My knees weaken. The sturdy bed creaks faintly as I lean into the post. Carved wood digs into my back.
“For both of us.” He looms over me. “Do you understand how Alistair would punish you if he caught you flirting with me this way?”
I rise on tiptoe, aiming for his lips, but he jerks back.
“I don’t want the prince, Killian. I want you.”
He inhales raggedly.
“That isn’t going to happen, Briar. What you want and what I want are two different things.”
“Are you sure?”
I advance upon him, stalking him as he backs up. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
“You want me, Killian. I feel the way you watch me when you think I’m not paying attention. I sense your anger whenever Alistair puts his hands on me. Is that what you want? To sit idly by while he claims what’s rightfully yours?”
I’m pushing him too far. I can feel him straining not to snap. His back hits the stone wall in between the window and a tapestry. I give him one more good, hard, verbal push.
“Do you really want to stand guard, listening, while Alistair takes my virginity on our wedding night?”
A flash of silver startles me into edging back fractionally.
“I’ll be long gone, Princess. The instant Alistair seals your wedding with a kiss, I’ll be riding back to Thorn Mountain to my castle.”
I recoil.
“He promised you my castle?”
That ass of a prince. I can hardly believe it. He gave awaymy castle.
Killian swings me around mid-gasp. His sharp blade stripes up my spine, parting the laces on my dress as easily as butter.
“Women don’t own castles, Princess. You know that. You’re Alistair’s property, now.”
He strides away, leaving me to gape at his back as my clothes loosen around my body.