Page 20 of Breaking Briar

Such sounds are not becoming of a princess. And yet, as that heat tunnels deep inside me, touching places I never knew existed, I cannot help but cry out, begging for more. Please, I plead, doing what I can to get my lips to work.

They never do.

Every cry, every sound is locked up deep inside, where no one will ever hear it. Why doesn’t he kiss me? Why doesn’t he wake me from this spell? Unless he knows he’s not my true love and wants only to take advantage of my state.

Fear threatens to wrap around me, bringing the chill back in, but with another wriggle of his heated flesh, it drives it away again. I want to live in this moment, to never go back to the lifeless existence I once had. If only I can speak to him, to atone.

If only.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything stops. I hold my breath, desperation forcing my heart to pound. Is he gone? Has he left me?

I strain in the silence, but all I can hear is his haggard breath. What game is he playing at? Why does he stop? Is it because he does not know the things he does to me?

But then, how can he actually know? I cannot speak. I cannot utter a single sound to make him continue. Sorrow beats at me as I lie there, still as a statue, waiting for just one more touch.

Just one.

One is all I need.

Then another.

And another.

I want to break free of this prison, and he alone holds the keys.

Why doesn’t he rescue me?

Why does he torment me?

Thoughts cascade through my mind like water tripping down a babbling brook. Just as noisy, just as chaotic. It fills me, consumes me, until all I can think about is being stuck like this forever.

Just as I despair, his hot breath washes against my ear, sending tingles down my spine.

“Don’t worry, my little princess,” he rasps.

The voice is familiar, but not quite like I expect it to be. Though I can hear some of Philip in the tone, there’s a harshness to it, a darker quality that makes me quiver with both need and fear.

The abomination. It must be. The witch spoke of him and the dragon becoming one monstrous being. Seems as if the dragon has found me after all. And what’s worse, is he must be wearing Philip’s skin and using his voice.

That’s the only way he could sound like the boy I had a childhood crush. The man I began to crave until I knew the truth. I want to scream, to beg him to release me, but not from the prison of my mind. I want to flee, to run far away from him and his dark ways.

Something sharp grazes my bottom lip, sending that same cramping pang of need down much lower. After a moment, wetness coats my skin. Blood. I’m almost sure of it. His tongue laps at the wound using just the tip.

Will that be enough to wake me? I wait, but nothing happens. When he pulls away, silent sobs wrack my body, and yet it still refuses to move.

“I’ll release you soon enough,” he teases. “But not until I’ve had my fill of you. Be a good girl for me and just wait patiently.” A soft chuckle flutters the fine hairs resting near my ear. “That’s all you can do, isn’t it? Just lie there and wait for me to bring you back to the living. Should I?”

Yes! I scream, knowing he cannot hear me.

“Poor thing.” His voice drips with a mocking disdain that makes my heart pick up pace even more. “So still. So quiet. So lovely.”

Again lips hover over mine, barely touching me. He’s so close. So achingly close. If I could just lean up a fraction and join his lips to mine… So close, yet so far.

His laughter brushes across my face, making my nerves tingle. Why? Why play this game? Why torment me like this?

“Poor, poor princess,” he continues to murmur, running his hands down my body, inflaming my lusts with every touch until I cannot think straight.

“I feel your need, little princess.” He picks up my hand and rubs it against something soft, hot, and full of bumps and ridges. “It mirrors my own. Soon, I shall own you. Soon, I shall conquer you. Soon, you shall be my bride in words as well as in deed.”