“You should have told him off,” she hissed. “He deserved to be put in his place. Why is he here? A race? I don’t believe it.”
“He’s here.” I slid my hand along the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair. I pulled, tilting her head back, exposing her throat, feeding the primal beastinside me. “Because he knew the rumors of the mammoth. He guessed to find you here.”
She swallowed, the movement bobbing, but didn’t pull away. Fire spread through me, eroding whatever control I had left. Everything tightened, ignited. Every twitch of her fingers along my thighs stoked the heat inside me. My pulse stuttered when her gaze lingered, skimming over my body before it snapped back up, avoiding temptation.
“But you didn’t know about the mammoth.”
“He’s not always childish. He wants the truth for his theory.”
If I took a chance, I’d wager Tallon hoped to find her here, in this room, in this position—her head between my thighs, washing me clean of the past, completing this celebration of life.
He was dangerous. Though still a prince, he was becoming a man. A man whose power could rival mine one day. Immature, yes, but he was learning. If he discovered the truth of my relationship with his betrothed… if he had proof?
The throne would crumble beneath me, regardless of how well I bore the weight of Radaan.
“He thinks there’s something between us,” she murmured.
My fingers clenched in her hair, and my body went rigid. “What did he say to you?”
It was one thing for him to hurl accusations at me, but to approach her? To push her? He had no restraint. If he dared touch her, I’d make good on my promise.
Her eyes lowered, avoiding my gaze. She focused on my stomach, a defensive move. “He said he thinks we plan to replace him as heir.”
A heavy sigh escaped me, and my grip loosened. “I have no such hopes.”
Whether Tallon was truly mine, I couldn’t say, but I claimed him—for Radaan’s sake. For stability.
My kingdom had to lean on tradition. We were fortunate I survived the war, and the queen somehow conceived in the times I visited.
Bile surged in my throat, and I fought the impulse to pull away from Nienna as dark memories flooded my mind.
Greedy hands. Poisoned words. Scornful laughter. Ridicule. Demands and humiliation.
Nienna’s hand brushed my knee, then stopped, as if the disgust was written on my face. She studied me, her cheek resting against my leg, eyes shimmering with concern. A furrow creased her brow, and color warmed her cheeks. Her lips pressed into a tight line, a silent struggle.
Another reason I refused to let anything happen between us. She would want a child one day, and I couldn’t give that to her. Physically, there was no question—I could take her, but I would never father abastard.
“You could still sire an heir.” Her attempt at a smile faltered, slipping into a frown as her gaze lingered on the set of my jaw.
Shame twisted through me, killing the last of my desire. She didn’t deserve my anger—rage that festered for years. I had no right to take out my frustration on her—a woman who gave and gave. Time after time, she offered me her warmth and passion, and I returned only bitterness. She was owed more than I could ever give.
“If you’re worried about my skills in bed,” I smirked, leaning over her—safely tucking my hips away from her, “I assure you, I could still father a child.”
Her blush deepened, lips parting as she absorbed my words.
“But I’ve done that duty.” I stood, forcing myself to part with her. A groan tore at my throat, pain echoing through me as our hands released. The distance between us was unbearable, a sharp ache that cut through my chest. “Now, I face different battles.”
Like the one pulling me away from her.
She sank onto her heels, palms resting on her thighs, her lips parted in invitation. The raw need in her eyes drowned in the hurt I caused, and I despised myself for it. I couldn’t give her more. I had no way to rewrite the oath that bound her and Tallon. There was no way to take back the moments we shared—how I fed her hopes, how I fed my own, knowing we would never have the satisfaction we craved.
“Princess Nienna of Draconia,” I extended my hand to her.
She gripped it, allowing me to pull her to her feet.
“The Dragon’s Heart.” A smile tugged at my lips as I brushed a loose strand of hair off her cheek, then tilted her chin upward. “You’ve washed the blood from my body, and the stain of death from my soul.”
Her expression softened at my words, and the itch to pull her close nearly undid me.
