44. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
Esemeray almost forgot where she was, but the heat of Riggs sleeping beside her quickly reminded her she was in a cave, in the desert. One look at him, and her body flushed. She had thought sleeping would have sobered her cravings—but she was wrong.
She longed for him to touch her, to feel his hands roaming along her body as he did last night. The image of Riggs between her thighs was still so fresh she could still feel his tongue swirling against her flesh.
Oh, gods.
She clamped her legs together, swallowing hard. It was bad enough they were both still naked, save for a blanket wrapped around them.
After Killian ruined their moment, Riggs had scooped her in his arms and carried her to the furthest part of the cave.
He had offered to continue, but she had been too shocked—too frightened to find a release.
Instead, he had played with her hair until sleep claimed her.
But now? She desperately wished she took him up on his offer.
She lifted the blanket, her gaze curiously trailing down Riggs' body, toward his length. She gasped.
He’s hard.
She angled her head, observing him. Riggs' penis is so beautiful.
Nothing like Peter’s.
Thank the five gods.
She chewed on her lip, unable to remove her gaze. What was I thinking? She’d hardly been able to wrap her hand fully around him. No way he would’ve fit inside.
Riggs was right.
It was not the right time.
She sighed, studying his face instead. The dark stubble growing around his sharp jaw seemed to be filling out even more than before. Butterflies danced around her stomach. He’s really growing it out for me…
As if Riggs felt her staring, his eyes fluttered open, his mouth curving into a lazy smile. “Good morning, princess.”
“Good morning,” she said sweetly, twisting the ends of her hair around her finger.
“How long were you watching me?” Riggs huffed a laugh, his voice a groggy whisper. “Were you planning on collecting my baby gravy?” Her heart leapt as he pulled her closer and snuggled his face along the crook of her neck.
Baby gravy? Esemeray’s brows bunched. “Your what?” Her eyes widened, her skin tingling from Riggs' body touching hers, with his lips grazing her throat.
“I’m only kidding, princess.” Riggs laughed, the sound drowning her in warmth. He was silent for a moment before he pulled back, meeting her gaze, and explained, “The soup I gave you…was baby making soup.” His eyes softened. “For the record, I didn’t know.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat, her arousal simmering. “So, that’s what happened last night?” Esemeray gripped the blanket, embarrassment flooding her cheeks.
It all made sense.
He scratched his head. “It was a good thing we didn’t continue further.” He blew out a breath. “That would have been bad.”
Esemeray sat up, eyes wide. “Bad?” Her heart thundered, mouth going dry. “I don’t understand? Why bad?”
Riggs sat up on his knees, breathing heavily.
“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighed, grabbing her hand, and placed it over his heart.
His features grew frail, his voice a broken murmur, “You deserve more than this. More than me.” Each thrum of his heart, beating rapidly across her palm.
“I—” his throat worked. “I’m sorry about last night. I messed up.”
“No.” She blushed. “I liked it.”
He stammered, “We should have only played The Star Game, and nothing more.”
“Soup or not, I wanted you.” Esemeray rubbed her thumb across his heart. “I still want you.”
Riggs inhaled sharply. “You deserve more than a cave. You deserve a place where it is just us. No worries of someone barging in.” Riggs swept his knuckles across her cheek in comforting strokes.
“You deserve to be comfortable…in bed…not on a rock.” His eyes softened.
“I want your first time to be special.” He inched closer to her, his lips brushing hers.
“I wish to gather every flower known to man, so I can sprinkle the petals around you while I kiss, and worship every inch of your body.”
Her breath hitched. “Riggs. I don’t need?—”
He kissed her. “Better yet,” he planted another kiss beneath her ear, and murmured, “you deserve more than what Razareth can offer. I don’t know how, but I will find a way to travel across the universe and collect flowers beyond your wildest dreams.”
Her stomach fluttered. She looked down, hiding her smile. “For the record,” she murmured, “I attacked you.”
Riggs' hands found their way into her hair, his eyes meeting hers. “I barely survived.”
“Look at that face. I got you pretty good,” she said with a sigh.
Riggs' smirk was lazy as he pointed to his jaw. “This face?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Esemeray burst into laughter. “You are so full of yourself.”
Riggs pinched his fingers. “Just a little bit.”
She chuckled, grabbing his hand and pointed to the scar on his thumb. “What happened there?” She had been wondering since the night in the library, but had been too shy to ask given the way he had reacted.
Riggs chuckled softly. “Killian and I were training.” Riggs' eyes drifted toward the canyon walls. “I had a knack for daggers when I was nine years old.” He pointed to his palm, at the line running across. “I’d spend hours throwing blades. Little me wanted to see how fast I can unsheathe, and I ended up slicing my palm pretty good.” He grimaced.
“I quickly realized, you can only master a skill over time. Not in one day.”
She traced more scars etched along the top of his hand. “And this?”
“This one…” Riggs traced her finger over the biggest, thickest one. “Was over a bug.” A quiet laugh. “I almost lost my life over it.”
Her stomach tightened into a ball.
She wrapped her fingers around his. “I’m glad you didn’t die. The world is a better place with you in it.”
Riggs pressed a soft kiss on her cheek. “How terrible would it have been if I didn’t get the chance to meet you?”
They stared at each other for a long while, the weight of what they meant to one another settling between them.
Breaking the silence, Esemeray asked, “Did you end up getting the bug?”
Riggs smiled. “Of course, I got the bug. My father had to pry it out of my hands so he could stop the bleeding and stitch me up.”
She bunched her brows. “You refused to let it go even being that injured?”
The corners of his eyes softened. “It was the rarest of its kind, princess. There was no way in hell I was letting it go.”
“Even near death?”
Inching toward her lips, he whispered, “Even near death.” Then he kissed her.
The desert sun beamed down on them hot and fierce.
She lost count on how many times she wiped her forehead dry or pulled her hair to the side.
At least she didn’t have to hide anymore.
But once she saw Killian this morning, she would rather have shifted and taken another form.
She almost had until Riggs convinced her to travel in her human form until they reached the temple.
He said it was safe—said they’d be alone for hours.
Ultimately, she would have agreed, that was if Killian hadn’t kept glancing at her every other second. His stare weighed heavy, his eyes burning her skin, her soul.
What’s on Killian’s mind?
She’d like to know.
An hour had passed, and Killian had not said one word to her or Riggs. Just when Esemeray thought it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable.
Killian looked at her, his lip curling in disgust. She shook her head, her own lip pulling back. The way his eyes pinned her made her stomach recoil. It was the same burning stare her mother gave her—hate.
She grumbled, facing ahead.
“How are you holding up?” Riggs asked from behind her, his breath brushing her ear.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh, resting her head against his chest as they galloped across the desert plains. Riggs grunted, handing her his leather skin. “Drink. You’ll dehydrate quickly out here.”
Losing water was the least of her concern, but she grabbed the canteen out of his hands and drank the smooth mineral water so he wouldn’t worry.
“Better?” he purred, running his hand through her hair. His drifting fingers halted. “Esemeray, my gods, you’re drenched. Let me tie your hair for you.”
She twisted in the saddle, shock sharpening her features. “With what?”
Riggs freed a dagger from his belt. “Let me worry about that.”
Who is this man?
He had made sandals, and now a hair tie? Esemeray’s chest warmed with his generosity.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling.
“No need to thank me, princess, as long as you’re comfortable, I’m content,” Riggs said, slicing a brown string off Storm’s saddlebag and sheathing his dagger back into his belt. He twirled a finger, pointing toward the expanse. “Face that way.”
Obeying, she stared at the moving dunes, hypnotized with the way the sand whipped back and forth.
A cool breeze kissed her neck as he lifted her hair, sighing in relief until she caught Killian glaring.
She ignored him, focusing on the comfort Riggs gave her instead.
She closed her eyes, taking a calming breath.
He was gentle, carefully brushing her locks with his fingers.
She hadn’t realized how tangled her hair had become.
The last time it was brushed was the day she fled from the castle, but the slight pulls felt nice, putting her in a state of ease, her eyes closing shut.
His breath brushed her ear. “Do you prefer a braid or a simple pullback?”
Her eyes opened in surprise. “A braid will do.”
He suppressed a laugh. “Very well then. Stay still, I’m a little rusty. It’s been a few months since I’ve last done this.”
Her stomach dropped.
A few months? Was it one of the women in his drawing book?
She willed her thoughts away, staring down at the reins, she asked, “Should I be holding onto the reins?”
“Nah, Storm’s pretty good about following River without my guidance. She’s good like that.”
Esemeray eyed the black stallion Killian sat upon. That was the first time she heard Killian’s horse’s name. River was a beauty.
What are you staring at? Killian mouthed, bunching his brows.
Esemeray scoffed, crossing her arms and fixing her gaze ahead.
“Everything okay?” Riggs asked.
“Just enjoying the view,” she lied, her breathing uneven.
What’s Killian’s problem?
“Does this feel okay?” Riggs asked. “Just wanted to make sure I’m not hurting you.”
Esemeray nodded.
Killian finally broke his silence, “Three more hours until we hit the markets.” He stared at Esemeray, squinting his eyes. “You got something to say, princess?”
“Do you have to be so hostile?” Riggs said, his voice fading in and out.
Her blood boiled, her power simmering. She took a deep breath, attempting to steady her nerves, but she could feel the pounding in her bones, the thrumming beneath her skin.
“She keeps looking at me like she has something to say!” Killian shook his head, throwing his hands out in front of him.
She pointed at him, shadows spilling from her finger. “No, you keep looking at me.” Her heart pounded, mouth going dry.
And then she could feel it—the same darkness that killed the women yesterday.
Oh, no.
Taking another deep breath, she hoped to silence the pounding underneath her skin. But no matter how many breaths she took, nothing helped.
It only became worse.
Riggs' voice came in muffled gasps, and the horses stopped moving.
Why did we stop?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she leaned forward, attempting to inhale as much oxygen as possible before the darkness released and took control.
Breathe.
Mother was right?—
She clawed at her neck as if her necklace would appear. Right now, she wished it would.
Breathe.
Deep, muffled screams echoed around her, and then her vision darkened.
Everything became silent.
Fog clouded her mind, reality slipping right beneath her fingertips.
She blinked and blinked until color flooded her vision.
Where am I?
The desert shifted into a large, brightly lit room filled with soft teal and peach painted along the walls.
Viny, green house plants crawled around the ceiling and dark-oak bookshelves lined either side of the room.
Yellow dressers with ladybugs and purple butterflies near bronze handles sat under the large windows, the sun streaming lazily through gauzy curtains. It was an artist’s haven.
Esemeray’s heart dropped as she noticed a woman rocking on a teal painted chair.
She donned a white gown with matching slippers, a blue ribbon tied around her wrist. Her skin was gold, mirroring her honey-brown hair that curled over her swollen belly.
She was glowing. Her glittering green eyes lit up, a heartwarming smile softening on her oval face.
Esemeray had never seen this woman before.
Who could she be? Why am I seeing this?
Then a deep male voice sounded behind her.
Her pulse quickened, her eyes growing wide.
Killian.
His distant footsteps sounded closer with each passing second. She turned, preparing for a fight, as the breath escaped her lungs. He looked different…he looked happy. He had no facial hair and the scar on his cheek was non-existent. Her jaw dropped. She had never seen him show so much expression.
“Hurry quick, he’s kicking!” the woman said, her eyes bright with excitement.
Killian kneeled in front of her and placed his hand on her belly, the two of them staring at each other with so much love, Esemeray felt as though she was intruding.
Esemeray had never witnessed anything so pure—so real.
“I feel it, Layalara! I feel him!” Killian said, beaming.
She had never seen Killian look like that.
Never seen so much light shine in his eyes.
Goosebumps spread down her arms as the pressure behind her eyes grew. Esemeray’s gaze fell to the matching gold rings on their fingers and she smiled, knowing they married for love.
They married for choice.
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she witnessed Killian embrace his wife in a way that she had never seen before. They gazed toward each other deeply and wholeheartedly, nothing in the world able to take away the adoration between them.
“I’m so happy, my love,” Killian said, his voice cracking.
Layalara wiped the fallen tear with her thumb, her tone gentle. “As am I. I love you.”
Esemeray’s breathing hitched.
Something was wrong.
She no longer felt warmth but something cold and dark. Something like lingering shadows. Watching her. Watching them.
“Esemeray, Esemeray, Esemeray,” sinister voices sounded all around. “Wake up.”
White light blinded her, the vision of them replaced with the sight of Killian on his knees in the sand with his hands wrapped around his head screaming in agony.