He spun me, stumbling toward the desk. His hands swiped at papers, sending them scattering across the floor. He dropped me onto the surface, my backside jolting against the hard wood, the ink from scattered reports smudging against my skin.
I tugged at the hem of his tunic, freeing it from his trousers. My hand traced the ridges of his abs, then moved up the dusting of hair on his chest. He made a strangled sound, pulling back against my fingers tangled in his locks. With a swift, decisive motion, he seized my wrists, pinning them to the desk.
“Wait,” he gasped, his breaths ragged, his eyes frantic as he searched my face, trying to clear the passion clouding his mind.
“No.” The word came out low, a growl.
He couldn’t stop—I refused to let him think of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen. I had memorized them during those long, lonely nights. Hooking my legs around his waist, I pressed my hips to his. I arched, grinding against him, desperate for more. So much more.
A string of curses spilled from him as he bucked against me, his control slipping. He released my wrists, and I immediately reached for his belt. When he attempted to shove my hand away, he leaned down for another kiss, but I hissed and smacked his arm, tugging at the buckle with impatient force.
With a grunt of surprise, his eyes flashed with something darker. A spark of wariness crossed his face, but vanished as quickly as it came. With a single motion, he gripped my sleeve and tore the fabric, the seam giving way to reveal my shoulder and the top of my breast, sending a chill of air over my exposed skin.
I froze, breath catching, shocked—but thrilled. His chest heaved as he paused, meeting my gaze, asking for permission. Waiting for me to pull away, to be the voice of reason.
My only answer was to unfasten his belt.
He crashed into me, pinning me beneath him, my hands struggling to push his trousers down. His lips blazed a fiery trail across my jaw, down my neck, along my chest, each kiss a mark that left me gasping. With a rough yank, he pulled at my dress, exposing my breast to the cool air, groaning as his hips ground into mine. I arched against the desk, the impact sending glass, ink, and paperweights clattering.
Pulling back for a quick breath, he fumbled with the panel of my skirt, pushing it up to my thighs. “Cursed breeches!” he muttered, reaching under my dress to grip my waist. My laughter was breathless as I lifted my hips to help him, letting him yank the fabric down to my ankles.
I kicked at the constraints, struggling against him, but he tackled me again. Our legs tangled as we fought to break free, only to pull closer in the process.
His lips burned a trail of fire across my chest, large hands searing my backside. “I need you!” I hissed. “Now!”
His low chuckle vibrated through his chest as I kicked one foot loose, wrapping my legs back around him, trousers hanging from my ankle. I purred in pleasure, simply having him so close, my core aching with desire.
He gripped my backside, pulling me flush against him, the cool chains of his mantle brushing over my bare skin. I sat up, reaching between us, trying to yank his trousers down, cursing as they caught on his hips.
He grunted, shoving me onto the desk, his palm pushing my skirts higher, the other unfastening his trousers. I panted, eyes locked on his movements, my tongue darting over my lip.
Two buttons undone, I slipped my hand between us, sliding inside. His head fell back, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as his grip tightened painfully on my bare hip.
“Gods! Ni–”
The door to the study slammed open.
Kallias spun, throwing me off the desk with a force that sent a lantern crashing, its light flickering out in a burst of glass. My heart pounded as he twisted, placing his body between mine and the intruders. Panic surged through me, my breath shallow as my mind scrambled to catch up.
I clutched the sides of his tunic, searching his face for the calm, the control that always defined him—the man who had faced flesh-eating wizards and walked away victorious. The self-assured king who never wavered.
“Well, well. Father, you really should learn to take your whores to your bed.”
Tallon’s voice, thick with ridicule, hit me like a slap. Kallias’ left eye twitched, his facade cracking for just a moment. Then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask he wore so well. He tugged at the torn pieces of my dress, a futile effort to cover me, as if that could undo everything.
“Sea beneath, Tallon.”
Horror flooded my veins, icy and biting. The crease between Kallias’ brows deepened, his face draining of color. His pupils constricted to tiny pinpricks, nostrils flaring, his breath ragged as his grip on my shoulders tightened.
“We’ll come back, Your Majesty.” Ronan’s words thickened with disdain.
My brother—he was here. Why was he here?!
Egath’s voice cut through the tension, sneering. “Oh! Isn’t that the princess’ signet ring?”
I yanked my hand from his side like it had been seared by fire, clutching the damning ring close as if it might shield me.
Kallias’ eyes fluttered shut. His breathing slowed, deepened. He braced himself for the storm to come.
