23. Riggs
RIGGS
He had nearly finished in his pants from holding Esemeray—with her body pressed so close to his.
Before they sang him the Aldmoor birthday song, he’d snuck into the bathing chamber and pumped himself hard, imagining Esemeray beneath him, picturing her perfect body on full display.
Princess or not, he had been desperate for a release, and thankfully, he had found one rather quickly.
Now, he could enjoy his cake.
Riggs scooped the last bite into his mouth, scraping the leftover chocolate from his plate.
“Riggs! Go down to the cellar and grab us another bottle; your brother wants to play Ring of Fire,” his father called out.
Acknowledging his father with a nod, Riggs eyed the cake plate, wanting another. He frowned. Of course, Zander took the last piece.
Fucking freeloader.
Turning in his seat, he found Esemeray, sitting on the couch, her hand resting under her chin, staring intently at one of Layalara’s paintings.
Trying to gain her attention, Riggs cleared his throat. “Outstanding piece, is it not?” he said.
Esemeray drummed her fingers on the corner table, jerking her chin toward the wall. “Who painted those?”
Riggs surveyed the blue-and-pink painted canvases. “Layalara painted those,” he said casually, looking around for Killian.
Shit.
Killian glared at him from across the room, but his brother quickly continued his conversation with Zander. Riggs blew out a breath, relieved Killian didn’t lose his shit.
“They are gorgeous.”
Riggs stood, trying his hardest not to sway as he reached out his hand. “Come with me.”
Esemeray stilled, blush creeping along her cheeks. “Okay.”
Riggs had told Esemeray to wait in the orchard while he grabbed the wine. By the time he closed the cellar door she was gone.
Fuck.
Riggs grunted, stumbling through rows of trees, not caring he was stepping on rotten fruit as it smashed beneath his soles.
“Em?” he called out, heart surging. “Where are you?”
A twig snapped.
Riggs whirled and sighed in relief.
There she was, running her fingers across the plum leaves.
“You’re not wearing any shoes,” Riggs murmured, approaching her. “I told you about the pine needles. They’re dangerous.”
She motioned to the dirt. “I was careful.” She added, “I grew rather bored.”
“Well, I got the bottle,” Riggs said, gripping the ends of his hair. “Sorry it took so long.”
The moonlight shone down, reflecting off her milky skin. Riggs admired her, his body warming. He knew feeling this way for her was wrong, what he had done in the bathing chamber was wrong.
He figured a release would have satisfied his cravings. But the urge to kiss her had only amplified. Another step closer to her and he was ready to risk it all.
“I’m surprised you made it out alive. I was getting worried.” She twirled the leaf between her fingers, leaning against the tree trunk.
“All the cake sobered me up.” Half truth. He was tipsy, but at least he could walk. He took one step closer, and damn him, he was keen on pinning her against the tree and ravishing every inch of her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She gazed up at him, fidgeting with a leaf.
Riggs' heart faltered, and so did his limbs. He forced himself to look in her eyes. “I’ll be honest, you’re making it impossible to be a gentleman.”
“Why is that?” Her chest rose and fell.
“Every time I look at you, I cannot seem to think.”
She hummed. “Why do you think that is?”
His breathing increased. “You’re so damn beautiful, Esemeray, that’s why.”
Chirping crickets drowned out his beating heart.
A shade of ruby bloomed across her cheeks like the sweetest flower. “I have always been told the opposite.”
His hand tightened around the bottle enough to shatter it. “Whoever told you otherwise can be damned to hell.”
She flinched, eyes wide.
Fuck.
New approach.
He took a calming breath. “Perhaps they cannot see your beauty, because there is no word for it.” He smiled softly. “You are beyond beautiful—the type that stops men in their tracks. You are fathomless…like the night sky.”
Esemeray blinked. “The sky?’
“You are the magic I feel when I gaze at the stars and wish.” His smile grew. “You are hope.”
“No one has ever…” She paused as if soaking in his words. Her throat worked. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It is only the truth,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. Then his gaze dropped to her mouth once more.
The king would have his head for this. His heart thundered as he leaned down, leaning toward those full, waiting, parted lips he would do anything to feel on his.
Just one taste.
He slid his hand across her face, cupping the back of her neck. He hovered just a hairbreadth from her mouth. She didn’t back away, didn’t move. He could tell she wanted this just as bad by the way she trembled beneath his touch.
“What’s taking so long?”
Riggs stomach plummeted, heat crawling up his neck.
Zander.
Riggs pulled away, clenching his jaw.
“Just a minute!” Riggs shouted, his fingers curling into his palms. He could have sworn there was a flicker of disappointment simmering in her eyes. “You ready?”
She nodded.
Ring of Fire was a famous card game in Aldmoor, one Killian had mastered among others, and he was hard to beat.
Fucker spent most of his time gambling. It was how he became so skilled over the years.
If Riggs cared enough to learn the tricks, he was confident he could kick Killian’s ass, but he was never much of a card man.
Drinking was one of the requirements of the game.
So that gave Killian an unfair edge.
Riggs took a seat next to his father and Zander. Killian insisted Esemeray sit next to him so he could explain the rules. Riggs kept a close watch on him. Not that he didn’t trust his brother—he did. However, Killian was upset earlier, and at times, he enjoyed wreaking havoc.
“The rules are as follows.” Killian pointed at the red cards sprawled in a circle, fanned out and faced down.
“I go first, then Riggs, and it follows counterclockwise.” He motioned his hand in a full circle.
“I will call out the rules as we go on,” Killian added, mouth curving into a sinister half-smile. “You’re a fast learner, right?”
Esemeray nodded. “Yup, seems easy enough.”
Killian glared. “Until you're shit faced by the end of the night.”
Esemeray peeked in his cup, her lips pursing. “What’s in your cup?” She squinted, crossing her arms. “Water?”
As much as Riggs wanted to laugh, he knew how much sobriety meant to Killian. He couldn’t blame Esemeray for not knowing. Expecting the worst, Riggs braced as Killian flashed a fake smile, glaring. “Just pay attention, will you?” Killian reached toward a card, flipping it over.
Ace of Spades.
Killian chuckled. “Ace or two means fuck you, and I get to choose who drinks.” His whiskey-brown eyes landed on Zander. “I choose you, cousin.”
Riggs had never seen Zander smile so wide as he grabbed the bottle of rum in the center of the table and popped off the cork. “Finally!” he exclaimed, chugging the bottle.
“You crazy bastard.” Riggs grinned, watching him swallow half the bottle. His gaze found its way back to Esemeray and, for a moment, he observed the way she twirled her hair around her finger in delicate motions. The way her lips pulled at the corners when she smiled.
Fuck.
Riggs shifted in his seat, unbuttoning the top of his tunic.
He needed air.
Killian nudged his knee, breaking his stare and grumbling, “Your turn; pay attention.”
Riggs blinked, staring down at the loop of cards. He reached for one, flipping it over with a well-practiced flourish. Riggs said breathlessly, “Eight of diamonds.”
Killian grinned. “Pick a date.”
“I choose you.” Riggs' voice was a low rasp, foreign to even his ears.
Esemeray blushed.
“When you flip an eight, you choose someone to drink with you,” Killian explained.
Rhidian chimed, “Emmy, if you don’t feel like drinking, we can get you some water like Killian.”
Killian rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Would you like my wat?—”
“I will try that,” she said, pointing at the bottle of rum.
Riggs raised his brows. “Have you had rum before?”
She shook her head. “No, but I want to try.”
Killian mumbled something under his breath and took a sip of water.
Zander clasped Riggs on the shoulder. “Pour the lady a shot! The girl wants to party with us men.” He chuckled. “I like a girl who can handle the hard stuff.” He waggled his brows, tossing her a wink.
Ire swirled low in Riggs' gut. He gripped Zander’s shoulder, squeezing hard, and murmured, “Really?”
Zander kept his eyes locked on hers, staring like a starving animal. “She’s mouthwatering, cousin. If you don’t claim her, I just might.”
Riggs' entire face heated, fire rushing down his spine.
Brute.
“Don’t ever talk about her in that way again.”
Zander’s eyes grew wide. “I was just?—”
“Ever. Again,” Riggs warned.
His father’s distant laugh grew closer.
Riggs firmly patted Zander on the back as his father approached with four empty shot glasses. “Here, son, pour her a shot.” Riggs inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself before reaching for the bottle in the center of the table.
Slowly, Riggs released the breath he had been holding while he poured the amber liquid into both glasses, one for him and one for her.
Reverting his mind to a lighter subject, a small smile formed at the thought: Little did his father know, they were about to get the princess of Dagon drunk.
Stifling a laugh, Riggs handed Esemeray a glass.
His heart skipped as their knuckles brushed.
“Hurry the hell up and let us continue,” Killian urged.
Riggs let his gaze linger with hers before he raised his glass and said softly, “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she said sweetly.
Riggs grimaced, the liquor stinging his throat.
Esemeray downed it, drops of alcohol trickling down from the corners of her mouth.
Riggs' chest expanded. Impressive.
With a graceful touch, Esemeray wiped her chin, her nose slightly scrunching. “That was…sort of disgusting.”
Everyone burst into laughter, even Killian.