FIVE
Amy
I woke up slowly, snuggled up in warmth like I did most cold mornings, nestled under a pile of blankets to ward off the chill of the drafty compound walls and windows.
My eyes stayed closed, enjoying those silent morning moments, the ones that were mine alone, where the dregs of dreams swam warm and fuzzy around my head.
Like saving Drake.
Like escaping myself.
Pleasant dreams.
A loud whooshing noise finally made me take a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to wake up my sleepy system, my eyes opening, blinking uncomprehendingly at what was before me. A bit of a stone wall met with a makeshift pine branch one.
It was right about then, too, that I realized I wasn't in my bed made lumpy in predictable places from many nights of use, that the warmth wasn't coming from a pile of covers.
Oh, no.
My bed felt lumpy because it wasn't a bed at all, but rather the lap and legs of someone.
And I was warm because of their unexpected body heat.
I went to shift away, uncomfortable at the idea of having climbed up in his lap in my sleep, wanting to move away again before he woke and caught me. If he hadn't caught me already. But then I realized where my hand was, making me freeze.
My fingers were all wedged between his thighs, thumb brushing up against the most intimate part of him.
Oh, hell.
What was I supposed to do in this situation? Never having been in anything even resembling this kind of thing before, I had no clue.
If I moved too suddenly, I might wake him up.
And then he would know where my hand was.
A frustrated, insecure, embarrassed little part of me whispered about how it was no big deal since he had touched me exactly in the same place just the day before.
It was different, I reminded myself, trying to shake off the swirling, uncomfortable feeling in my belly that had been there since the moment the pleasure overtook my system. At his hands.
I'd been vaguely aware of the spell, though not that it was a spell at all.
All I knew was my body was on fire, burning with need.
It was all over at once, overwhelming. A tightened coil of need formed in my belly, so twisted that it was painful.
My breasts had felt heavy, the very brush of my shirt over my hardened nipples enough to cause more sparks of need to overtake me.
My skin felt like it was prickling with it. My brain felt slow and clouded by it.
It was all there was in the world.
Desire.
The need for release.
I had never felt something even remotely like it before.
It felt as though it was going to consume me, like I would combust if I didn't get relief, like I would become nothing but ashes and ember.
And then the world had shattered in a surge of pleasure so strong it felt like it moved from my core, shooting outward until it reached my scalp, my fingertips, the soles of my feet.
It was then that I was aware of Drake.
Of Drake's hand between my thighs, fingers pressing into the most sensitive part of me.
To break the spell, the rational part of my mind knew, understood that this was sex magic racking my system, that it would turn my brain to mush if it wasn't broken. He'd broken it. It was a cure. Cold and clinical.
The problem was it didn't feel cold and clinical. It felt like intimacy. It felt like warmth and goodness.
It felt like something someone else had never given me before.
Inwardly, I cringed at that.
It wasn't like it was a secret.
It was likely the reason the Dark Prince would even consider an offer.
Virginity was still worth a lot in some circles.
And my mother had done everything within her power to make sure it was a selling point she could use to gain her best advantage.
The guards that were allowed to be alone with me knew they would sacrifice their manhood if they so much as put a hand to my skin, a task my mother would delight in inflicting herself. With nothing more than a dull kitchen knife.
Not that a single one of them would have been my choice - were I even given one.
She seemed to sense it when I had started having normal yearnings.
It was around that time that any young, attractive guards were replaced with much older ones, balding ones, beady-eyed ones, and, well, not to be indelicate... but ugly ones.
I'd never been given the chance to be around men who I could consider, who would be allowed to consider me too.
And after all the years, I had perhaps begun to romanticize it, imagine it. Someday, with someone beautiful, with someone who saw me for who I was instead of a card to be played, who maybe, perhaps, loved me.
That was what I had wanted when I felt a man's hands on me the first time.
That was why I ran away to avoid becoming prey to the hands of the Dark Prince.
It wasn't supposed to be cold and clinical.
But that was what I got.
Even as the sensation overtook me, so did a crippling sensation of loss and an unshakable embarrassment.
I hadn't been able to meet his eyes afterward, as weak as that may have made me sound.
He'd been able to move on, move past it, act like it was no big deal.
But it had been a big deal for me, and it was proving hard to reduce it to nothing.
Taking a careful breath, I shifted my fingers slightly, my entire body stiffening, feeling for any possible movement on his part.
Feeling nothing, I carefully pulled them further, freeing them entirely, balling my fist to rest on his thigh, not wanting to fully pull away all at once.
It was then that I felt the weight on my lower back.
An arm.
Drake's arm.
As I became more aware of it, I felt his fingers, the way they were curled into my hip in a way that, again, felt intimate, felt almost possessive.
Felt way too good, I admitted to myself.
Outside our little shelter, the wind still gave the occasional gust, but nothing compared to the night before.
We had to get going.
As soon as possible.
It was morning.
If we set a steady pace, I was sure we could reach the human realm by nightfall.
I knew exactly how far it was from my parents' compound, less than a day's walk. But we had gone in the other direction. I had no actual idea how far we were away.
"You're up."
It wasn't a question.
It was an observation, making me wonder if he had actually been awake the whole time, if he had felt my fingers touching him, if he had been conscious of my careful extraction of my hand - something that may seem silly to him.
"You were right," I said, sitting suddenly upright, wiping at my eyes in an attempt to avoid eye-contact without it being obvious I was doing so. "It's warmer when we are closer," I added, rolling a crick out of my neck.
The air settled between us, making everything several degrees cooler.
"Do you want to eat, or are you ready to get going?"
"I'm ready," I said, ignoring a little grumble in my belly. There would be time to eat later. I needed some space right then.
Drake made some noise, making his way over toward the door, climbing out.
It was barely a few seconds before I saw him rip off the top row.
"What are you doing?" I asked, looking out the hole he had created above me.
"We don't want to leave any traces of us, first of all," he told me as he went to work on the second row, making it possible for me to stand and step right over the bottom one.
"And second of all?" I asked, brows drawing together when he handed me what was the top row.
To that, he let out a sound that was much like a humorless chuckle. "Nature will no doubt need to call. We will - no doubt - want some privacy for that."
"Right," I mumbled, feeling like an idiot, and maybe a bit embarrassed at the idea of nature calling while he was anywhere near the vicinity.
But at least he was thinking ahead, guarding our modesty, what little bit of it we could retain.
"It's not heavy," he added when I said nothing further. "It shouldn't slow us down. Plus, if we need it again, it will be a lot less work. You ready?"
I nodded a bit tightly, falling into step behind him, a bit annoyed when he fell back a step, moving in at my side, not letting me out of sight.
I should have been thankful, but every so often, I felt his gaze on me.
But, thankfully, he said nothing.
It was mid-day when we took a break, going off in opposite directions to take care of things no two people wanted to share, before settling down in an oddly clear section of the woods, allowing us to sit down on ground not covered in snow as we shared a small meal.
It was then that he seemed to lose whatever control had been there to keep him silent all morning.
"Think we need to talk about it," he said, voice a little low, like maybe he too was uncomfortable.
"No."
"Can't even look my way, honey. Stiffen up if I get too close. Think we do need to talk about it."
"It's not a big deal."
"Clearly, it is," he countered, reaching out, putting a finger under my chin, not forcing it up, simply waiting for me to do so myself.
When I did, my eyes found his for the first time up so close, seeing flecks of red around the iris, something completely unusual, something that must have been unique to his kind.
Beautiful, my brain added. "I never would have taken advantage of you if I was given any kind of choice, Amy. It was that or let you burn up."
"I understand that," I agreed, nodding a little, making his finger fall from my chin.
"You understand, but it still feels like an invasion."
"Yes." The word came out almost like a whisper. Like a secret.
His gaze fell for a long moment, considering the shells on the ground between us. It rose again though, eyes almost a little sad, guarded.
"I'm not the man."
"I'm sorry?"