Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “For you, I won’t argue.”
He gave me a lazy smile, exhaustion coating his features. “Good.”
My legs trembled as I pulled myself from him, my fist closing around the duvet as if it could somehow hold me upright. Flattening my palm next to his head, I pushed myself up, and he reached for me, grabbing my wrist.
“Where are you going?” The fear lacing his question made my chest ache.
Combing through his hair, I leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m not leaving you, I promise. I’m just going to grab a warm rag from the washroom so I can clean you up. Stay here.”
He tightened his grip, only releasing when I cupped his cheek. Leaning into my touch, his eyes closed, and his fatigue took over, robbing him of his consciousness.
I smiled softly, pulling away from him slowly so as not to disturb his slumber. He remained unfazed as my touch vanished, the exhaustion from our shared moment of intimacy alongside his duties rendering him useless against his looming dreamscape.
Pivoting, I moved from the bed, my eyes scanning the room and the trail of clothing we had shed. There was something irreplaceable about seeing him in my bed and his garments littering my floor; it was something I wanted to bear witness to every damn day.
I needed him far more than I needed the crown.
I loved him far more than my own father.
Whether that made me selfish or soulless, I wasn’t entirely sure. But after a life of serving, twenty-eight years of standing in my father’s shadow, it was about damn time I did something for me—for us.
So, as I stepped into my attached bathing chambers, I decided that was exactly what I would do.
Fuck societal standards. Fuck being disowned by my father for my sexual preferences. Fuck the judgment and assumptions.
I would escape the confines of royalty forhim.
I would run from the crown and the weight of my responsibilities for the man who’d already vowed himself to me in this life.
I would become a wanted man for him if it meant he continued to want me—continued to love me—even if it were just for a bit longer.
CHAPTER 19
Tumbling Wave
ROHEN
The dampness of the wood beneath my bare feet called to me, the depths beyond beckoning for me to finally give in. Standing on the gunwale, the harshness of the sea slapped against the ship, threatening to toss me overboard. Each crack along its pristine structure only seemed to serve as a reminder of my inability to escape—a freedom so far from my reach so long astheirleashes remained coiled around my throat.
Ultimately, I refused to throw myself overboard, which, in thinking about it, had made my climb up here a bit theatrical. Whether my dissipating desire to become one with the ocean was because the gods had decided I needed to live another day, or because I was too fucking stubborn to lethimwin, I wasn’t sure.
There was only one thing Iknewfor certain, and it was that IloathedCaspian fucking Vayne.
By Ellira’s name, I sat beside him, catering to him,concernedabout his well-being—his survival, because she’dtoldme to. And the instant he had the chance, he looked at me as if I were an abomination, casting his hatred toward me just as he’d cast himself to the sea. He was infuriating by the very definition, but in the same godsforsaken breath, irresistible.
And that’s what pissed me off the most.
As if the mere thought of him served as some kind of sick summoning ritual, his booted footsteps approached. Rounding the corner, he stepped into view, still shirtless because ofmydesperate attempt to keep him alive.
I should’ve let the bastard die.
As if the act were carved into the marrow of my bones, my eyes instinctively began exploring him. Admiring the dark breeches that hung low on his hips, and every impossible to ignore line and cut of his muscular frame, I swallowed the building lump in the back of my throat. Damp from the cloth we’d used to bring his temperature down, his hair twisted in slightly tighter curls than it had been when it was dry. Every inch of his tattoo was visible, the path of lightning as untamable as he was.
The wound in his side, which I hadn’t had time to attend to before he elected to be a prick, had been stitched, likely by the crafty hand of the male who followed him no matter where he went, as if he were a god worth worshipping. And the fucking nipple piercings—gods, the fucking nipple piercings—that were connected by the singular chain, a chain I wanted nothing more than to?—
The low husk of his voice pulled me from the intrusive thoughts threatening to cloud my mind. “What thefuckdo you think you’re doing, Levitte?”
“What thefuckdoyouthink I’m doing,Caspian Vayne?” I barked back, his name nothing more than poison on my tainted tongue.
