Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Crymson
There’s a possessiveness in the way that he looks at me once we’re alone in the kitchen.
The Prince lingers by the door, the span of the enormous room lying between us.
I lower my hands to the smooth wooden countertop to keep my nerves at bay.
An enormous bouquet of roses is at the center with the thorns still sharply intact.
An extended pause crawls in as we study one another. So much time has passed. It feels like a dream to see him again.
Or a nightmare.
“Why won’t you come near me?” he finally taunts.
“I’m here with you right now. I don’t know what you mean.”
His slow prowling steps circle the counter ever so slowly, drawing out every slamming beat of my heart.
Until he stops when he’s just behind me.
The hairs on the back of my arms lift one by one as I wait for him to make whatever move it is he’s plotting.
I feel like a submissive pet waiting to be scorned.
And I’m not that girl anymore.
I spin on him, turning until my lower back hits the countertop and I’m chest-to-chest with the malicious Blood Prince.
A smile cuts his lips, but he doesn’t touch me.
Calculating eyes shift over the column of my neck, breasts, and every inch of my body before diving back into the depths of my gaze.
A sparking energy presses between us, and I find myself leaning in to feel the crackling magic that lies there in the empty space between him and me.
Only then does his hand lift, and his fingers stroke down the side of my jaw before settling high along my throat.
I shiver beneath his touch, unable to stop myself from reacting to him.
I’m reminded of the last time I was with him in the Blood Kingdom.
He held my head in his hand and made the most honest confession I’ve ever heard from the cruel Prince.
I never expected to crave you.
“You know you can just say you missed me, Christian.” It feels arrogant to call the Prince by his name. I tilt up my chin high to own that confidence.
A scoff of laughter breaks free from his lips. A true smile—not the tainted smirks he reserves for everyone else—a real smile kisses his lips.
“I didn’t miss you, pretty pet.” His head dips low, his lips brushing along mine as he inhales deeply.
“I fucking obsessed over you.” And then his lips cover mine.
His hold on my neck tightens as his tongue sweeps in and mingles against mine.
The counter behind me bites into my back with a demanding weight pressing hard against me.
And I dive into the chaotic taste of him.
Possessive hands grip my ass, and without warning, I’m lifted. He shoves me onto the countertop, glasses and silverware scattering behind me until the shattering sound of something breaking crashes to the floor. And neither one of us gives a damn about any of it.
As quickly as he lifted me, he jerks me forward, lining my hips up with his in the most delicious way. A gasp of a moan slips from my lips, and he devours every little sound I give him. It’s a kiss filled with hunger and regret. I shouldn’t be kissing him. I shouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t want him.
But I always fucking have.
His fingers slide from my throat and push messily through my hair.
He grips me there hard as he rocks my hips against himself.
The kiss deepens as a needy feeling in my core spirals out of control.
A hint of copper washes over my tongue, and he laps it up.
My nails dig into his wet shirt and shoulders, holding him tighter to release everything that’s been pent up between us since that very first night we met.
The only sound is the frantic pounding of my pulse and the jagged rasps of my breath.
Until . . . a throat clears harshly among the heated silence.
Christian pulls back from me but only a fraction of an inch. His lips hover over mine as the fury in his eyes flicks up toward the door. His hold on me never releases, as if he might continue on to finish what we started in the very near future.
“If you were hungry, you could have just said so. No need to ravish the first beautiful woman you stumble into, Prince,” a steady, challenging voice says.
My stomach drops hard, and only then do I remember my pussy is literally pressed over the vampire’s incredibly hard, incredibly nice cock. I have the sense to drop my hold on his shoulders. But the Prince’s fingers are still tangled in my hair. And his attention drifts down to me.
There’s a manic shine in his steely eyes as a slow sexy smile spreads over his lips.
He pulls back, releasing his hold on me and letting his hands slide down the length of my arms, hips, and thighs before he fully steps away.
Relief tries to settle in and diminish the embarrassment that’s hot in my chest. But then he lowers his hand and very blatantly adjusts the hard outline beneath his pants.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Just let me die now.
“Your Grace, thank you for the invitation to your lovely estate. I didn’t realize it would be so . . .” His gaze slips to me once more, and I want to throw myself on the ground and beg him not to utter another word. “Pleasurable.”
Nooooooo!
My eyes close slowly. I can’t see them, and I wish like hell they couldn’t see me right now.
“Do you love her?” Thorn asks suddenly.
My eyes open in a flash and flick to Thorn in surprise. Christian’s cruel smile never falters.
His smile alone is a knife in my chest.
“I don’t love anything, Your Grace.” He doesn’t meet my eyes when he says it, and I can’t explain the unexpected pang of hurt I feel from that admission. “You can’t love something if you’ve never known what that feels like.”
My heart softens, and my hand lifts to touch his, but he steps back from my reach. His hands slide casually into the pockets of his drenched black slacks. The ever-present smile that usually kisses his lips is nowhere to be found. No emotion at all is in his eyes.
“Not even from your mother, the Fae Queen?” Thorn asks, tilting his head.
I glance between the two men, and for the very first time, it suddenly as though Thorn is the vicious monster that the fae warned me about. There’s a strangeness to his words. There’s a game being played between them, but I wasn’t told the instructions.
And so, I watch.
“She was no queen,” Christian utters. “She was just a Promised. My father made sure everyone knew that. In the end, he threw her out just like the others.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Prince.” Thorn’s rumbling tone is all mischievous taunting, and I know the next words out of his mouth have been saved for this very moment, a need to throw the prince strongly off-kilter.
I understand why he does it, but his next words are just as much news to me as they are to Christian.
“She was a Queen,” he adds, his shoulders tense as if he expects another fight.
An eeriness drifts between his words. Something unsaid shadows his voice, and everything in the room pauses in anticipation.
“She was my father’s soulmate, as Crymson is ours.
His one true love. His Queen. Even after your father killed her.
My mother will always be a Fae Queen, Brother. ”