Page 81 of Crown of the Courtesan

“This is about Adele?” he asks with a scoff, staring intently at me. “Let’s get one thing straight. Adele flies in as quickly as she flies out. We have an agreement, so my level of convincing has very little to do with anything. She has her lovers, and I have mine. Everyone knows this.”

“Then by all means, go finish with her and allow me to leave you once and for all. Because let’s be real fucking honest, you don’t want me in your castle any more than I want to be your courtesan. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, and I’ve told you everything I know, so how can I possibly be of any more use to you? Just let me go already!”

“The commanders need to see you active and at my side.”

“Aren’t you worried what they’ll say when they see her on you while I’m sitting right there? They were watching you two the entire time…”

“They’ll think what every man would naturally assume—that I’m a king with a bounty in my bed, committed to no one. Even if you were my true courtesan, you’d have no right to complain; you aren’t my lady wife, so you’d do well to hide your jealousy.”

Scorching, blazing, incendiary flames shoot up my neck, curling around my ears as his sharp eyes assess me. I buck my hips wildly again, trying to force him from me.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he growls from above, pinning me down even harder.

“Then don’t disrespect me. It doesn’t matter if you merely view me as only a courtesan. You know I’m worth more than these games you play.” I jerk my head upward to bite his face, to take flesh if I have to, but he catches my mouth in a searing kiss.

My mind goes blank.

With both hands, he tightly holds my face still. Slowly, his thumb slides down my neck as he forces my lips apart with his tongue. I bite his bottom lip hard, making his ferocity into the kiss deeper and more unyielding as he clutches the back of my skull, winding his fingers through my hair, and tugging me into a passionate submission despite my resistance.

Calloused fingertips squeeze the curve of my bare hip as my wool skirts and cotton petticoats fold up in the tussle, our legs tangled together. A hot, throbbing pulse begins to beat between my shaking thighs—something I never wanted to feel with this man.

His hand roams over the hollow of my neck where my cloak fastens, the tie pushing into my airflow. Despite the frustrating need taking over my body, the memory of Adele won’t leave my mind⁠—

Though to be clear, the label of jealousy remains irrelevant and insulting. It’s not about wanting him; it’s about common decency in the role he created for me. Being his courtesan is one thing, but I’m done being his captive to humiliate. With a sharp inhale, I bring my knee up fast and hard.

“Ugh!”

He rolls over, gasping for air, clutching his groin.

I bolt.

But I’ve hardly sprinted twenty feet forward before he lifts and slings me over his shoulder, carrying me as I kick and shriek. I refuse to relent as he steps through the growing darkness of the forest, the sun setting behind us. He swats my ass through my many petticoat layers in an attempt to quiet me as I screech his name. He laughs, “Calm down before I give you a real reason to scream my name.”

Upside down, I beat on his back with balled fists. “You promised me this would be in name only, you wretched, stupid liar. Never kiss me without my permission ever again. Do you hear me?”

The infuriating part is that I’m not even angry that he stole a kiss from me without asking first. I should be. I know I should be. But the only concern plaguing me is that I simply don’t want him to ever think I enjoyed it.

Ashland grunts in response, stomping along the path.

“Are you listening to me?” My shrill tone sends birds into flight from the canopy above us.

“You could stop squawking and thank me for not letting you get killed out there. Only a fucking idiot would run into the wilderness, no food, no supplies. What were you thinking? Oh, wait—you weren’t, as usual.”

Speech becomes difficult as he jostles me. “I was—I was thinking the risk of death would be more preferable than taking my chances with you.”

He rubs his left chest muscle, grumbling about ungrateful guests, and I nearly lose my mind. I beat on his shoulder blades again, slapping hard, but this time bright and angry sparks fly from my palms, burning through his tunic.

Arching his back, he yowls and drops me.

Unbridled rage flares in his eyes, and I swallow, wondering if I’ve gone too far.

“I’m warning you. Don’t do that again.”

His jaw tightens as black shadows wind around my body, tight and without any room to wiggle free. But it doesn’t stop there—the shadow ropes wrap around my face, gagging me so that not even my muffled scream can be heard as he lifts me over his shoulder again.

Once we’re inside the castle, Ashland kicks open my chamber door, much to the chagrin of the waiting sentry. He unceremoniously deposits me on the mattress, covering it in mud, twigs, and debris as my bindings disappear into wisps. Pointing a finger at my scowling face, he orders, “Stay.”

All I can do is stare at him as he retreats.