CHAPTER NINETEEN
Daphne
Daphne had absolutely no idea how to process what happened last night.
The group chanting “slut” had been led by Benjamin.
Daphne shouldn’t have been surprised; she knew exactly what he thought of her.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less. As if spitting on her mat during the Showing wasn’t enough, now he had humiliated her in front of the entire village.
Shame seeped into her chest. Furthermore, Maximus’s confession sat in her stomach like a stone, weighing her down as she went about her chores and helped her mother with the sewing.
I need you to know that my feelings have changed.
Daphne’s feelings had not changed. She only felt something for Kronos.
I want to pursue you, and I want you to be my wife.
It didn’t matter what Maximus wanted. His father would never allow them to wed.
That was the entire point of their arrangement—the crux upon which it was balanced.
I must think of my own future, and the future of the kingdom.
Daphne’s future was not in the castle. It never would be.
She knew just how difficult it must have been for Maximus to say what he said to her.
It probably went against every instinct he had as a member of the royal family.
All his life, the prince had simply been handed everything he wanted.
Now he wanted Daphne, and no amount of privilege or pedigree could get her for him.
Part of her dearly wished she could give him what he asked for.
But the other part knew it would cost her to do so.
And as much as she wanted to make Maximus happy, agreeing to be with him would do the opposite.
She would never be enough for him, and he would never be enough for her.
In the village, the festival wore on. There were mead and dancing every night in the town square.
Daphne spent the afternoons at the Horseman with Ella, discussing anything and everything other than the competition.
Maximus’s gifts became so numerous that Daphne began giving them away to the neighbors, leaving bottles of wine and bouquets of flowers on people’s porches at random.
Kronos sent her letters. Short ones—simply a line or two.
Daphne read them over and over until she had them memorized.
She went to the cave every night. It was always the same routine—they talked on his bed, he walked her home, he kissed her.
Daphne was dying for more. But Kronos withheld himself, never allowing them to go any further.
Perhaps he regretted how far they’d already gone.
Whatever the case, Daphne hated it. Neither of the men in her life were giving her what she wanted.
Finally, she gathered enough courage to do something about it.
The next time she went to the cave, Daphne waited until they were once more seated on his bed in his chambers before saying, “Why haven’t you touched me?”
He blinked but didn’t answer.
Daphne tried a different question. “Do you regret what we did?”
“No.”
“Then why haven’t we done it again?”
Kronos sighed. Daphne couldn’t tell what kind of a sigh it was—whether he was simply exasperated or something worse.
“I am a danger to you, Daphne,” he said. “Everything about you beckons to me. I can smell your skin, your sweat”—his eyes flicked between her legs—“your wetness.”
“What does it smell like?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Kronos paused, his eyes still on her center. Daphne could feel herself blushing, suddenly terrified of what he might say. Had she really just asked what her wetness smelled like? Yet she desperately wanted to know.
“It smells…divine.”
It was a notable descriptor. He could have said anything: delectable, tempting, alluring. But he had chosen a word that meant holy. Godlike. It wasn’t a word Daphne was used to hearing in association with herself. But somehow, when it came from his lips, she believed it.
“Do you want to taste me?” she whispered. His eyes flicked to hers.
“Yes.”
It wasn’t an offer, nor was it an invitation.
Daphne merely wanted to know. Kronos seemed to understand this, because he didn’t move.
Yet his affirmation sat between them, and Daphne savored it.
If this was what it was like to resist having sex, she found she rather enjoyed it.
She’d never waited like this before. There was never any emotional foreplay with any of the village boys.
There was barely any physical foreplay either.
Daphne like the delayed gratification. The buildup was already so pleasurable—surely the act would also be… divine.
Daphne could tell Kronos was thinking about it too.
His eyes were completely black, and they’d drifted back down to her center.
Smoke curled over his shoulders, rising from his skin.
She reached out to touch him, running her fingers down the curve of his bicep, tracing a vein along the length of his forearm.
She could feel every pulse of his blood beneath his skin.
She fought the urge to lean down and lick the vein.
Kronos shuddered when she reached his wrist. His skin would be sensitive there, hard tendons displayed just beneath the surface.
Daphne slid her fingers across his palm, slotting them between his.
Kronos completed the motion, gripping her hand tightly.
“You didn’t answer my first question,” she whispered. “Why haven’t you touched me again?”
“I do not trust myself not to hurt you.”
Daphne frowned. Kronos had the most self-restraint of anyone she had ever met. He was stoic—a calm, grounding force. She trusted him with her life. “You won’t hurt me. I told you I won’t break.”
He touched the tip of his finger to her jaw, tracing it to her lips. “It is not worth the risk.”
“Then what are we even doing?” she whispered. “Why am I here?”
He sighed again. “You are here because I need to see you.”
Need. Not want.
“Please,” she whispered. “Touch me.”
Kronos looked as if he were in immense pain. She understood that this was difficult for him, but it was difficult for her too. Now that she had a taste of what it felt like to be with someone she had feelings for, she wanted nothing more than to do it again.
“You need power. You said so yourself.”
He shook his head. “That is not a good enough reason to put you in danger.”
“Nothing dangerous happened last time.”
“That is because I was holding back. It took enormous effort to do so.”
Daphne shifted closer as his eyes turned black. “I trust you,” she whispered. “Why can’t you trust yourself?”
Kronos stared at her, smoke already seeping from his skin.
Daphne couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he hadn’t held back.
The thought of getting hurt was scary, but not enough to deter her from being with him.
Besides, she didn’t really believe he would hurt her.
Kronos was too composed—too disciplined to let anything bad happen.
“What if you choose this time?” she asked.
“Choose what?”
“What we do.”
It was Daphne’s way of giving him control.
If Kronos chose what they did, theoretically he would choose something he could handle.
She had no doubt that whatever he chose would be amazing.
She watched as Kronos considered her proposal, his hesitation obvious as smoke continued to curl over his shoulders.
She brushed a single finger over his skin, displacing the smoke.
The moment she made contact, Kronos whispered, “May I taste you?”
Daphne had been tasted before, although it was hardly a common occurrence.
The village boys were not a particularly giving population.
She was quite sure what she’d experienced was nothing like what Kronos was capable of.
He was looking at her like a starving man looked at his last meal. Only one word came to mind. “Yes.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Kronos kissed her.
He did it slowly. Sensually. Daphne wondered if it was how he wanted to kiss or how he had to kiss her.
She let him set the pace, waiting until his hands found the lacing of her dress before helping him pull the garment off.
Daphne felt the same thrill she had the first time she was naked in his presence.
She loved the way he looked at her, the way his eyes drank in every inch of her skin like he needed it to survive.
She lay back slowly, letting her legs fall open.
A hiss filled the air as Kronos leaned forward, positioning himself between them. He kissed her knee. Then her thigh. Then he stopped and looked up at her. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“I already said yes.”
“Some would consider this sex.”
Daphne paused. He was right. Oral sex was a form of sex—one she’d partaken in many times herself, although usually on the giving end rather than the receiving one.
But to her, oral sex wasn’t included in the promise she’d made herself after what happened under the bridge.
Benjamin hadn’t demanded to taste her. He’d wanted free pussy—he’d wanted to put his cock inside her.
That was where she drew her line. Everything else was on the table.
“Daphne,” Kronos said quietly. “Are you sure?” He was still poised between her legs, his hands on her thighs, looking at her.
“Yes.”
Kronos maintained eye contact for a long, weighted moment. Then he lowered his head.