Page 41 of Witch’s Heart

But you are also a king, now, his mind whispered.

If he couldn’t control the things happening around him, the things happening between him and Mina, how could he hope to control what happened in his kingdom? The thought made his head spin. He winced, already regretting the amount he’d had to drink.

Sleep pulled him under.

When he woke, it wasn’t quite dawn. Mina’s body was draped over his chest, her breathing steady. It took everything in him to control his need. Physically, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her, to wake her up by coming on his cock. Mentally, he wasn’t ready for that, not until he got his emotions under control. Not until he figured out what to do with this desire to exert himself over her—fully and completely.

Besides, he was still fucking angry.

Rising so as not to disturb her, he dressed and slipped out. His father’s study was cold, so he lit a fire in the grate and set to work. Stacks of missives sat unanswered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get ahead on them.

Dawn was spilling through the window when his steward stuck his head in. “Your Majesty. Shall I order some breakfast?”

He grunted in answer, the scratching of his quill never ceasing.

“Very well, I’ll return shortly.” Andrei closed the door.

He’d merely blinked before a servant appeared, tray in hand, his taste tester close behind. He offered another grunt of acknowledgement and continued, barely touching the food. Hours passed, consumed by the state of the kingdom.

He felt a tug inside his chest. The bond. He blinked and glanced up to find Mina standing in the doorway, watching him. She hesitated before stepping inside and closing them in. He tossed his quill aside and leaned back, studying her. She was dressed in red today, one of the many gowns he’d commissioned while she was away. It dropped low over her chest, cinching at her waist and flaring at her hips, reminding him just how much he enjoyed holding those hips when he rutted her.

She’d never been one for gowns—preferred pants and things that were easy to move in. Was she doing this for him? A peace offering?

He blew out a breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose, fighting back the headache that bloomed behind his eyes. “Mina,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hi,” she breathed, still leaning against the door. “I wasn’t sure what dress you wanted me to wear today, so I thought this might be okay?”

He swallowed. It was more than okay. The question was, could he accept this as her way of apologizing? Was it enough to calm the chaos of emotions he felt in the wake of yesterday? To sooth his anger?

No—he needed to punish her. That was the only thing that would make him feel better. He just wasn’t sure how yet.

“It looks good on you.” He kept his tone neutral, to hide the fact that his dick was already hardening. The desk was enough to hide it.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not wearing anything underneath, in case you…” Her eyes darted to the surface of the desk, which was completely piled with correspondence and documents he still needed to review and sign.

His head fell back against the chair. Fuck, it would be so easy—so easy—to order her before him, to lift her and settle her on the desk’s surface, where he might devour her cunt with ease. Where he could bring her to the brink, over and over, torture her like he had the other night. And yet…

“Perhaps later, little witch. I need to make a dent in this.” His cock gave an angry throb at those words. What was wrong with him?!

Mina’s expression fell. She heard the dismissal for what it was. “I guess I’ll get back to my research then.”

“Mina.”

“Yes?” She froze, something like hope lighting in her eyes.

“What do you plan to do about Santos?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped. He waited, daring her to say something that might illustrate just how little control he had over her. Instead, she surprised him by saying, “I was going to wait and see how you would like to proceed.”

“Good girl.”

Her cheeks flushed with the praise. It made him feel powerful. But he’d always had this kind of power over her, just as she did him. It was everything else that was out of his control.

When it was clear he had nothing left to say, she departed.

She hadn’t pressed him to talk about yesterday. Part of him was surprised, but also relieved. He wasn’t ready to confront this yet. Mostly because he was at war with himself.

He had no business settling something between them when he couldn’t figure out his feelings. Were they justified? Was he simply losing his mind and buckling under the pressure? How the fuck did his father do it?