Chapter 15
Fifteen
ALLETTE
THEN
Today is Tuesday.
Normally, Tuesday isn’t the most interesting day of the week, but for the last four weeks, Senan Vale has darkened my rooftop each Tuesday afternoon. Unfortunately, this morning, Aunt Marjory insisted we join Lord Windell for high tea at The Belle—a very posh restaurant where only the most important Scathians dine. It shouldn’t have taken this long, but Lord Windell brought his mother, and she and Aunt Marjory instantly hit it off. I’ve never heard my aunt speak so much at once.
My heart pounds as my aunt’s tower slowly comes into view. Not that I’m looking forward to the prince’s visit. Sure, he makes me laugh, and I dream of his smile more often than I’d care to admit, but I refuse to become part of his harem of women who fall at his feet and seek to fulfil his every whim and desire.
Even so, a smile tugs at my lips, and I find myself searching the slate tiles for a shape I’ve come to know all too well, only to realize the rooftop is empty. Did he leave when I wasn’t there waiting for him, or had he come at all? It’s not as if I can fly to the castle and ask. If I’d known last week would be his final visit, I would’ve done things differently. Perhaps I would’ve even gotten up the nerve to ask him to kiss me.
It sounds ridiculous now, but I had this crazy notion that Senan might have been interested in me romantically. Which is mad when I think about it. I mean, the man can have any woman he wants. He probably leaves my tower to visit someone else. He probably goes to a hundred different towers a week.
Oh well. I suppose it was fun while it lasted.
The balcony outside my chambers greets me with a hollow thump . I draw the doors aside and?—
There is a handsome prince sitting at my dressing table.
Bloody hell. Senan wasn’t on the rooftop because he was in my room! How long has he been in here? What has he been doing? Please tell me that he didn’t find my journal, the one where I keep a detailed log of every single time he visits. Of my deepest, darkest fantasies that, mortifyingly enough, have begun to feature the prince himself.
I scan the room but see no sign of the leather ledger that I keep hidden beneath my mattress.
What is wrong with me? Of course he wouldn’t have looked for my damn diary.
“What are you doing in my room?” Thank goodness my bed is made and I threw my dirty laundry into the hamper for once. Imagine having Senan waltz in and realize I’m a slob.
His eyes widen, and his head tilts like he is a curious puppy instead of one of the most powerful fae in our realm. “You’re angry with me.” He says it as though he is shocked that someone can be anything but moon-eyed and placating in his presence.
I prefer to reserve my mooneyes for after he leaves.
“Of course I’m angry. This is my bedroom. You cannot simply come in whenever you like. What would you have done if a servant had found you, hmmm? Or my aunt?” If Aunt Marjory found out I had a prince visiting me, she’d probably faint. Or worse, she’d get notions .
The hinges on my ancient jewelry box whine as he opens and closes the lid. Once. Twice. “You were late, and I got bored waiting for you on the roof.”
I stalk over and slam the thing closed. No doubt he has already had a nose through my mostly faux collection. Which shouldn’t bother me in the least. From the state of this tower, he must’ve surmised that we aren’t well-off, but the thought of Senan knowing exactly how not well-off we are makes me feel self-conscious.
When I was younger, I never really thought too much about money because I always had plenty of food and fine dresses to wear. What my family lacked in coin, we made up for in love and laughter. The moment I set foot in the gilded halls of Aurora Academy, I realized how destitute we really were. Ever since graduation, my aunt has been on the hunt for suitors who would “elevate our rank.” Suitors like Lord Windell. Sometimes, it feels as if she only sees me as her ticket to a taller tower.
“So you decided to do a little breaking and entering to entertain yourself?” I ask.
“I didn’t have to break anything,” he says with a cheeky grin. “The door was open, as if you wanted me to come inside.”
My door was open because I like to feel the breeze when I sleep. “Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean?—”
“HA!” He slams a fist on the table, rattling my jewelry box and the handful of glass pots of makeup I wear for special occasions. Like balls or parties or Tuesdays. “So you do think I’m handsome. I knew it.”
Rolling my eyes, I hurry over to lock my door and then sink onto my bed, hiding my hands beneath my thighs so I don’t fidget. The last thing I want is for him to realize how nervous he makes me. “I think you’re too vain for your own good,” I counter. “And that you must have better things to do than come to my tower every Tuesday.”
“Nothing is better than coming to your tower.” He sounds so sincere when he says it, I don’t know what to think.
My body’s reaction, however, is the same as it always is when the prince is near. My heartrate speeds up, my skin goes all clammy, and my head starts to spin.
That day in the market, I couldn’t believe he had spoken to me. When I first arrived, I’d run into a few girls from school. They’d been all aflutter, claiming Prince Senan and Prince Aeron had been spotted in the marketplace. Rumors like that were a copper a pound, so I knew better than to take a blind bit of notice. Yet, I found myself scanning for men with hair as black as midnight and eyes as silver as the stars themselves. That was until one of the girls pointed out that the princes would likely be glamoured.
When Senan sidled up next to me at the lemon cart, I’d nearly expired on the spot. Being the object of his undivided attention is truly a terrifying, wonderful thing. A woman could lose herself in his blinding aura.
But if there was one thing my classmate Scarlett’s woeful tale had taught me, it was that falling for a Vale prince can only end in heartache, so I’d put up my defenses straightaway.
Defenses he has slowly dismantled one disarming smile at a time.
My fingers grip the quilt beneath me. “I will concede that you aren’t hideous.”
He swings his long legs from beneath the table and turns himself so he’s facing me, bracing his elbows on his knees and smirking once more. “I live for your compliments, Allette.” The way he says my name should be illegal. “If I promise to bring you a surprise next week, will you give me another?”
A surprise, huh? I’d be a fool not to accept a surprise from a prince, wouldn’t I? “All right. Let me see… Your height is above average.”
He stumbles to his feet and clutches his chest, catching himself on the corner of my table as if his legs are about to give out. “Be still my heart.”
“And your company is tolerable.”
He weaves on his way to where I sit; my heart pounds that bit louder with each step until the mattress dips and…
Heavens above. The Senan Vale is sitting. On. My. Bed . The two of us are so close, his muscular thigh is pressing against mine, and I can see his pupils dilate as his gaze falls to my lips.
Stars, do I want him to kiss me.
Despite what happened to Scarlett, and who knows how many other women, I still want to know what it feels like to be thoroughly, undoubtedly kissed by this man.
What if he is a liar and has no intention of returning with a surprise next week? What if this is actually the last time he comes to my tower? Do I really want Old Allette to be haunted by regret over Young Allette never having the nerve to ask for this handsome, worldly prince to press his lips to hers?
Having him this close slowly steals every bit of good sense I possess until I find myself blurting, “You should kiss me.”
Those quicksilver eyes snap to mine, and Senan’s tongue darts across his lips. “I should?”
Part of me cannot believe he didn’t immediately say no. Better keep going before I lose my nerve. “Yes. One kiss to put us both out of our misery.”
“Misery, huh?”
Why did I say that? Get it together, Allette, or else you’re going to ruin what might be your only chance for this to happen. “I have very high expectations, you see. And when you prove to be terrible at kissing, I will finally be able to break free of this spell you’ve cast over me.” Maybe I won’t even want him to return next Tuesday.
Even as the thought drifts through my mind, I know I’m a lying liar. Senan must as well because his teasing grin has turned wolfish.
I grip the covers a little tighter. “Why are you smiling?”
He places a hand on the mattress right behind me and twists ever so slightly, angling himself so that we are only a breath apart. “Because I am a fantastic kisser.”
Arrogant prince. Unfortunately for my hammering heart, arrogance looks good on him. “Men who claim they’re fantastic at something rarely are,” I shoot back.
“Shall we put your theory to the test?”
I lift a casual shoulder even as my pulse skyrockets because he is leaning even closer, his breaths becoming my breaths. His heat becoming my heat. “If we must,” I whisper, transfixed, completely and utterly in his thrall, watching, waiting, anticipating the moment our mouths finally meet as he eases forward and…
Stamps a hard kiss to my lower lip.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
Before I can tell him that, he kisses me again. Harder. Sloppier . Right on the corner of my upper lip. What in the?—?
Senan attacks with rapid-fire, wet, sloppy kisses all over my lips, my chin, my cheek, even my nose. Laughter bubbles up inside of me, and I fall back on the mattress to escape the assault, scrubbing his slobber from my face with my sleeve. “What in heaven’s name was that?” I somehow manage between giggles.
His deep, rumbling laughter warms my soul as he falls down beside me and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I cracked from the pressure.”
The funny thing is, as far as first kisses go, it actually wasn’t my worst.
Senan rolls toward me, tucking his face into my neck as if he is truly horrified by his behavior. My body goes completely still. I can feel him smiling. The delicate fan of his breaths prickles my skin. “Will you let me try again?” he whispers, his voice low, full of dark, sinful promise as his nose glides up and down my throat.
Heat pools between my thighs when I feel the soft flick of his tongue over my pulse. He does it a second time, groaning quietly as if he likes the way I taste. A heavy hand stretches across my stomach. Long fingers curve around my hip.
My breath catches in my throat when he nips at my jaw. Sensations I have never felt before zing through my blood, igniting a fire inside me until I can no longer resist turning my head, finding his heated gaze, and watching as he claims my lips with his.
Call me na?ve. Call me a fool. But that is what his kiss feels like: a silent claim. A steadfast promise.
Senan Vale is a cartographer learning the lay of the land, mapping every dip and crease. An artist, molding and shaping me to his whims. A powerful prince, commanding me with each heart-rending sweep of his tongue.
He is slow destruction and utter devastation, and when his thorough exploration ends, I realize what it means to be utterly ruined for any other man.
Senan arches an arrogant brow, his own cheeks flushed and eyes laced with darkness. “Well?”
How can he expect me to have a coherent response to that ?
If someone were to draw a picture of “male pride,” it would look exactly like Senan’s face in this very moment. “Let the record reflect that I have rendered the woman who has an opinion on everything completely speechless with my epic kissing skills.”
I press my cool hand to my overwarm forehead.
Epic indeed.
And I must say, this makes me wonder what else Senan Vale is good at.