CHAPTER FORTY-ONE #3
Her eyes met his. He could feel the moment deepening once again, changing into something it hadn’t been mere moments earlier.
The fire had been dying down for a while, and now it was nearly embers.
The air between them was warm. Electric.
Maximus had reached the end of his restraint.
There was only so long he could sit here, inches from Daphne, and not kiss her.
So he lowered his head. He did so slowly, as she watched him, to ensure she could protest if she wanted.
At first, he thought she might not stop him.
Then her hand pressed against his chest, holding him back.
Against all instincts, he stopped. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Daphne sat up.
When her head left his lap, Maximus took a deep breath, sitting stock-still as her face aligned with his.
Daphne didn’t move any closer. Instead she brushed her fingertips gently up the center of his chest, stopping when she reached his collarbones.
Then she kept going, tracing the column of his throat, pushing gently until his head was arched back and his neck was exposed.
Daphne leaned in. Maximus froze as she pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw, lingering there for a long moment before continuing down his neck.
It wasn’t a kiss. Maximus wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that her skin felt phenomenal against his. All he knew was that Daphne was sitting in his lap and her mouth was on his neck. All he knew was pleasure.
He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He could only savor every second of this and pray it never stopped.
And for a long time, it didn’t. Daphne moved slowly, shifting her weight so she was pressed against him, her lips trailing a path down his throat.
Maximus dared to hold her tighter. Instead of pulling away like he expected her to, a tiny noise escaped the back of her throat as she nestled even closer, tucking herself against him in a way that made his heartbeat slam in his chest.
Maximus closed his eyes, isolating his senses to only what he could feel.
He noticed everything about the moment: the way she smelled like the sea, the way her fingers tightened in his hair, the way her breath was warm against his throat.
Her body was curled against his, confirming that it felt like they were made for each other.
And then she bit him.
Maximus let out a grunt of equal parts pain and pleasure as she sucked the skin of his neck between her teeth.
At the sound, she only sucked harder. And he let her.
There was nothing he wouldn’t let her do to him.
If she wanted to break his skin and bruise him he would welcome it.
He would savor it. It didn’t matter what Daphne did.
Pain from her was worth more than pleasure from another.
He would let her cut him open if that’s what she wanted, and he would thank her for it.
Too soon, Daphne pulled away. Their faces were once again aligned, their gazes perfectly level.
The look in her eyes was clear: Now you.
So Maximus lowered his head. At the same time he threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling it so that she arched her neck.
Her eyes were open, watching him calmly, her lips slightly parted.
How he wanted to kiss those lips. He stared at her exposed skin—perfectly smooth, her pulse beating in her neck.
There were even freckles on her throat. He dipped his head even lower, lifting her at the same time so his mouth could touch her skin.
The moment his mouth brushed against her, Daphne sighed.
Maximus held her close; he could feel exactly how relaxed her body was in his arms. It was a continuation of what they’d done on the horse.
Only then, he hadn’t had the courage to truly brand her.
Now, he sucked her skin until his gold incisors left two deep, red marks on her throat.
Maximus pulled back to stare at them, imagining that they might linger there for longer than a day.
He would kill to have his father see those marks.
His marks. His cock, already hard, was approaching a danger zone.
Surely, Daphne felt it. Their lips were inches apart.
Maximus stared at the galaxy of freckles that covered her cheeks.
He wanted to kiss each and every one of them. And then he was kissing her.
There was no time to wonder if it was right. There was only this.
Soft, succulent lips kissed him back. One of his hands went to her hair, his fingers tangling in her curls.
His other gripped her waist, fitting perfectly in the curve above her hip, pulling her tightly against him.
Daphne was warmth and comfort, rhythm and heat.
She was light itself. She was everything Maximus had been searching for since Lilibet died. Here in her embrace, he felt peace.
The kiss deepened.
His fingers threaded into her hair; his tongue slipped deep into her mouth.
It grew impossible to resist touching her more intimately.
Maximus’s hands moved on their own accord, grasping at everything he’d wanted to touch for so long, his fingertips tracing her collarbones before skimming down her sternum to find the laces of the corset.
He was undoing it, unspooling her like thread. And she was letting him.
Until she wasn’t.
Daphne pulled away just as the top of the corset opened.
Maximus watched as harsh, sudden realization flashed across her face. “Daphne,” he whispered. “Don’t—”
But she was already standing. In that moment Maximus knew the spell was broken; Daphne was once more closed off to him.
Maximus felt the warmth of her body leave his, coldness rushing in as if someone had opened a window.
He stared at his lap—at the place where she’d been—wishing more than anything that he could have kept her there.
Daphne gathered herself quickly, yanking her corset shut. He averted his eyes; he knew she wouldn’t want him watching her. Everything he wanted to see was once more covered. Everything he’d almost touched was hidden again. She was already turning toward the door.
Maximus stood, crossing to her before she could leave. “Daphne.”
He was afraid if he said anything other than her name, she might run. To his surprise, she remained in place, her hand on the doorknob, looking back at him.
“Are you angry with me?”
She shook her head. Her flush was gone; she was pale once more.
“If you are not angry with me, then please tell me how you feel.”
Daphne still didn’t speak. The harder he held on to her, the harder she resisted him. It had always been that way.
“If it is a matter of your honor, no one has to know what happened. I will not speak of this to anyone—you have my word.”
To his horror, she looked angry at that.
“Daphne,” he said desperately. “Please. If we went too far, you have my sincerest apologies. I should not have allowed this to happen. I know how you feel about…this type of thing. You told me you did not want to have sex until you were in love, and I should have respected that. I do respect that. I will never touch you again if that’s what you want. You need only say the word.”
Finally, Daphne spoke. “That’s not what I want.”
Maximus’s heart swooped at her words. The terror he’d felt mere moments ago was gone, replaced by irrefutable, intoxicating hope. He knew her words would play over and over in his mind: That’s not what I want.
“In that case,” he whispered, “what do you want?”
She just shook her head.
Perhaps she felt that she had already revealed too much. Maximus was dying to hear more. He wanted to hear every single thought in her beautiful brain—anything she was willing to tell him—even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“I just want to go to sleep.”
It was not the answer he wanted. But it was the answer she had given him, and he had to respect it. “Then we shall get you to sleep.”
Maximus escorted her down the hallway to her room, hating every moment of it. When they reached her door, she did not turn to him, nor did she look him in the eye. She merely whispered, “Good night, Max,” and disappeared.
His bedroom was cold without her.
Maximus’s first instinct was to drink, to find the strongest thing on his bar cart and pour it down his throat.
But alcohol would only numb him, and he found that he didn’t want to be numb at all.
He wanted to remember every single moment of the evening, from the way her skin had tasted to how warm she’d been in his arms. He couldn’t believe that disgusting basilisk got to touch her—to see her naked body and do with it what he pleased.
That monster didn’t deserve her. Nobody deserved her, including Maximus.
That’s not what I want. That’s not what I want. That’s not what I want.
Alone in his room, Maximus smiled. Whether Daphne herself was willing to admit it or not, their story was not over.
Perhaps it had only just begun. If Maximus were to take anything away from what happened tonight, it was that he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had a chance with Daphne.
And a chance was all Maximus needed. If there was even the smallest opening in her heart for him, he would fight to get inside it.
He wanted to be better—to be a good king for her.
He would do anything to see her smile at him again.
He fell asleep thinking of the marks he’d left on her neck.