Chapter 20
The king’s watching us from his seated area, and even Ledeia eyes me with interest, so I have no choice but to take Alayel’s hand.
Even with the gloves, his palm feels warm, soft, familiar, and I hate the comforting feeling shooting up my arm straight into my heart.
He walks me to the center of the room, and then guards clear out a circle around us, as the music gets louder. It’s a slow, romantic melody, the kind usually played in Cardiana’s festivities.
When Alayel wraps his hands around my waist, my anger at him, my revulsion at his offer to keep me as his secret lover have a hard time arguing against the thrill of desire coursing through my body.
His touch awakens memories of our moments together, ignites something inside me—and I wish I could step away from my body and not feel anything.
Wish I could remove the traces of his touch etched on my skin.
Still, I can’t walk away. Not here, with everyone watching.
To make things worse, his face gets close to mine, his lips close to my ear, sending a shiver through my body.
He whispers, “You said you’d have no problem with me if we didn’t have to hide, isn’t that so?”
I want to tell him that ifs are pointless, but I realize we’re the center of the ball, and don’t want to start an argument. “I said that, yes.”
“Are we hiding now?”
“No…” But something still doesn’t feel right. “Except that tomorrow you’ll ignore me again, and say that a dance was nothing…”
He places a finger over my lips. “It won’t be like that, no. I gave it some thought, and I want everyone to know you’re mine. I want to announce it to the entire kingdom. Will you be mine then?”
Something still doesn’t sound quite right. “What about you? Will you be mine?”
“My heart’s all yours, Mayara.” He kisses the corner of my lips, then asks, “Will you marry me?”
Is he truly asking that? I try to find the trick, the deceit, and then I realize the problem, and say, “Not in secret.”
He pulls my body flush to his. “Let me rephrase, then. Will you be my very public betrothed?”
“Are you willing to risk your crown?” I whisper.
“I get everything I want, and, from now on, I decided I’ll get everything I want the way I want. No more compromises. And I want you.”
He runs the back of a finger over my face, and I close my eyes, still unsure about his words, unsure if he’s trying to deceive me.
Then his touch is gone.
“Attention, everyone!” His voice booms throughout the hall, loud and clear and commanding. “I’d like you all to witness this moment.” He kneels before me, then, still in a loud voice, asks, “Will you marry me?”
Is this happening? It’s like a weird vision, so strange. I close my eyes and see the dark dragon, licking me, as if trying to pull me to another reality.
But that’s my past. I look around me and notice all the faces turned to us, waiting for my reaction.
Isn’t this everything I wanted? A public display of affection.
A betrothal! Here’s this handsome prince, asking me to marry him, like in a surreal, hazy dream.
There’s only one possible answer in this dream.
I look at him and smile.
“Yes.” The word comes out with ease, untangling the knots that had constricted my heart in the last few days.
Alayel gets up, kisses my lips, and smiles, then turns to the room, holding my hand. In a powerful, clear voice, he says, “May I introduce you to my betrothed, Mayara of the Earth.”
Applause echoes through the hall, while I feel that the ground is moving beneath me, my mind spinning, still in disbelief.
We dance, and then more people join the center and dance with us.
When the song ends, he takes me to the reserved royal area, my heart beating louder and louder as we approach it.
He bows before the king. “Father, let me introduce you to Mayara, my future wife.”
Future wife. The words still sound like some strange hallucination. I bow as well. “Enchanted to meet Your Majesty.”
The king eyes me up and down, his nose wrinkled as if smelling something putrid. “Well met.”
Perhaps I should be disappointed at the king’s reaction, but it’s what I expected, and I’m too stunned by the idea of being Alayel’s future wife to care.
Alayel then takes me to Princess Ledeia, who has a genuine smile on her face. “How lovely to meet you.”
Of course she’s thrilled, as this might mean her relationship with Marcus won’t be as scandalous anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing for them. Oddly, it makes me happy.
I bow. “Enchanted to meet Your Highness.”
The rest of the ball is a blur. A happy blur, even if I’m still bewildered, stunned.
Is this really happening?
It’s also an agonizing blur, as each of Alayel’s touches makes me want him more and more, makes me want to get away from this place and rush to his bedroom.
When servants bring down the metal shutters, the hall is still filled with people, even if the king’s long gone. Alayel takes my hand, and we finally leave.
He barely closes his bedroom door, and his hands are all over me, fingers digging into my hips, nails scraping through the silk of my dress as he pulls me against him.
The dress seams give in, tearing easily, and the dress falls on the floor. Alayel removes my undergarments as his teeth graze my collarbone, my shoulder, finally reaching my nipples, making me gasp.
He lifts me, then shoves me onto his bed, a promise of unrestrained desire in his eyes, making my body tremble in anticipation as I watch his hands fumbling with his belt, then freeing his cock, already hard for me.
“You’re all mine now,” he says, his expression softening for a second.
“So are you.” I smile—then remember something, and grimace. “Golden oil,” I mutter. “Do you…”
He gets up and approaches his counter, where he opens a drawer.
“Your betrothed is a very, very smart man, Mayara.” He takes a tiny bottle, drips some of the liquid on his fingers, then returns to the bed and caresses me slowly, approaching my core with care.
The feel of his finger inside me, caressing my inner walls, makes me pulse in anticipation, and I moan, my back arching.
He tosses his shirt, then lies on top of me and kisses my neck, trailing a soft path down to my shoulder, but then he bites—hard.
“Ow,” I complain, but he laughs, then hooks my knees over his shoulders, spreading me wide.
His eyes are glinting with savage desire as he looks at me, waiting. I know what he’s about to do, what he’s asking permission to do, and I already anticipate the pain—and pleasure. I could ask him to slow down, maybe, but instead, I close my eyes and surrender.
The first thrust is brutal, one harsh stroke that steals my breath. I gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he sets a pace that’s all hunger and no mercy.
The pain softens, giving way to pleasure as we settle into a comfortable rhythm. His mouth drags back up to my neck, lips pressing once, twice, before he sucks hard at the skin there, marking me.
I tilt my head back against the pillow as my body begins to loosen, to open, the pleasure building slow and deep beneath every relentless stroke, the desperate pace matching my own desperation in the last days, when I thought I had lost him, when I thought he didn’t love me.
We’re betrothed now. Betrothed, and the word feels unreal even as he fills me with his seed.
Alayel lies sideways, his head resting on his hand, watching me, his perfect body lit by the cool light of his lumos jars.
“You’re so beautiful.” He looks at me as if he really means it.
“Did you just realize it now?” I tease.
“No. I knew as soon as I first saw you. Wanted you from that very first moment. And you’re mine now. See? I get—”
“Everything you want. Yes. Congratulations.” My smile is happy even if I’m taunting him.
He narrows his eyes, his tone playful. “I feel a severe lack of Your Highness, though. You never really screamed it.”
“I said it once, Your Highness.”
He chuckles. “You know what will be even better? Dear husband.”
“Hmm, I can get on board with that.”
He traces a finger over my collarbone. “You know you’ll have to obey me, right?”
I roll my eyes. “As long as I agree with your request, I’ll obey you.”
His fingers then rest on my neck, where he kissed too hard. “I marked you on purpose. I want everyone to know that I fucked you.”
I lift my hand to the tender spots. “Is that supposed to be romantic?”
“Not at all.” He smirks. “It’s derangedly possessive.”
“I bet you think it’s charming.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Considering everything about me is charming, I’d say yes.”
“Ugh. You’re such a pompous, arrogant jerk.”
He leans over me, caging me with his arms. “Tell me you love this jerk, then.”
“Tell me you love me first.”
He kisses my neck, right where it hurts. “So demanding. I just antagonized my father to propose to you, and now you want to play a game of who says I love you first? I love you, Mayara.” He looks me in the eye. “See? It didn’t hurt.”
“I love you too.” My voice sounds oddly weak.
His lips touch mine, and what’s a gentle touch at first turns into a long, passionate kiss. Then his knees shove my legs apart and he’s inside my sleek walls, our dance slow, our rhythm unhurried.
We spend a long time lying down after we’re done. Then we head to his washroom, where we enter the bathtub, the cool water sending a shock through my body.
Alayel laughs. “I need cold water. For days. Or I won’t stop.”
I sit on him, my legs straddling his body, even if I’m shivering. “Do we need to stop?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe we don’t?”
I grind against his crotch until I feel him stir and harden beneath me, and then I reach down and guide him inside, sinking onto him with a soft exhale.
The dress doesn’t stay put, but I do my best.
Alayel is naked, leaning on the wall. “You know I can forbid you to leave, right?”
I kiss him on the lips. “Do you want to order me, Your Highness? Tell me to leave and I’ll obey you.”
He shakes his head. “Fine. Go. Sleep with the little dragons and ignore your future husband.”
“I’m not ignoring you,” I protest.