Page 77 of Fated to the Wicked King

His hand slid around my back to pull me tighter against him, making me arch against his firm body. I wound my fingers in his silky hair. When I couldn’t resist tugging on it, a needy groan rumbled in his chest.

He gripped my hip with one hand, my jaw in the other, kissing me even deeper. Rough, insistent. As if to make up for the days we couldn’t do this, couldn’t be with each other.

In that moment, every manner of feeling washed over me. The feelings the king had been so careful to hide.

From that first day, in the throne room, his apprehension upon seeing me again after the ball, conflicting with the joy in his heart—he had to tamp it all down.

That overwhelming desire he had felt that night in his study when we played chess. How he couldn’t shake it even afterward. Not that he really wanted to. The mere sight of my face was a balm that soothed his soul.

That night in my chambers, when he’d helped me fall asleep. He knew he shouldn’t touch me, but he couldn’t help but give in to his need. His agony to control himself while having me that close, having me in his arms. How badly he’d wanted me every night before that and every day since.

I felt his utter and complete desperation when he thought I was going to disappear, when he couldn’t save me from drowning in the iron ascents.

I also sensed the exhausting battles in his mind.

His desolation, his loneliness, living all by himself in the castle all this time. The heavy responsibility he felt for the citizens of Wünder. He wasn’t good enough. He would never be good enough. His torturous guilt for what he felt he had to do to avenge his family. And even the guilt he felt for not being able to do more.

Above all things, he wanted to keep me safe. I felt his passion, his determination, his iron will. He would do anything for me. He was prepared to burn down the whole world if it would keep me safe. He wanted to take care of me. But he also knew he was the last man on Wünder I should be with.

He had discovered the nature of the anomalies earlier on. Because he wore my heart, he could sense the threat they posed—to the land, yes, but more specifically, to me. He had known instinctively that it was part of my past. He couldn’t shake his deep-seated fear that the anomalies would take me away. He wanted to keep me far, far away from it.

I also felt his struggles in knowing that I didn’t truly belong in this world. The knowledge that I would want to go home someday. He didn’t want to hold me back, but at the same time, he didn’t want to let me go.

The air around us seemed to glow.

It was exactly midnight.

Fresh tides.

A reverent hush came over the land as the wondrous, magical, luminous wave—the source of all magic on Wünder—unfurled slowly across the gardens. It curled along the glassy surface of the lagoon, threading through the arched pathways, coaxing blossoms to unfurl wider and leaves to tremble, as the entire countryside was steeped in its ethereal glow.

The mystical tide found us as though it had been searching all along. It rose in a soft swell that curled around my feet, wrapping us in a glow that was less like power and more like a quiet blessing. It brushed over my skin and traced along his shoulders in a halo of pale light.

Our lips molded together, each brush and press sending a spark of warmth through me as our kiss deepened further. I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. I wanted to stay in his arms, feel his strength wrapped around me, like a protective shield to shut out the harshness of the world.

It could have been hours or days. I would have been content to live out the rest of my life in this perfect moment.

He drew back slowly, with a brush of his tongue over my bottom lip, his kiss tapering off like the tail-end of a storm, instead of an abrupt stop.

Both our hearts were pounding hard. I could hear them. I could feel them. Everything was so intense, so overwhelming. It was exactly what I had been craving and yearning for the longest time.

I turned slowly, awe blooming through me as the willow branches shimmered. The mystical tide left delicate embers of sparkles all around us, as though it was itself not quite ready to let go of the moment.

When I looked up at him again, his gaze was still on me—no cold distance, no guarded mask, his gentle fingers stroking my cheek… Unshielded, almost reverent—but only for a moment.

His forehead creased, as though the full weight of what happened had just sunk in. Blinking quickly, he averted his gaze. Clearing his throat, he took the ring back, retreating a couple of steps.

The flow of warmth cut off as soon as he slid the jade ring back onto his forefinger, and his expression took on a cool arrogance I was intimately familiar with.

Self-conscious, I looked away, covering my mouth with my hand. The powerful onslaught of raw emotions had been quite bewildering. I was struggling to calm my racing heart.

It was one kiss.

Twenty-Three

NUANCE

“You can’t do that.”