Page 208 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Heat gathers between my legs. At the same time, my heart seems to take flight. I strive to bring it back down to earth.

Rian can’t truly believe anything lasting can develop between us.

He’s the prince, the heir to King Marek and the throne that’s shrouded in evil and literal darkness.

There is no future here.

My power writhes in disagreement.

Rian watches me without saying a word. His touch is steady, as is his gaze.

I lick my dry lips. “I don’t need you.”

I aim to sound indignant, but the words come out breathless.

“No?” He wraps both arms around me, his hands pressing against my back, drawing me in. “Well, I can think of no other word to describe the way I feel when I’m around you.”

He bends and presses a hot kiss to my neck.

Every nerve in my body lights up.

Rian declared the words so pointedly. Without hesitation.

My knees weaken as he continues to pepper kisses along the column of my throat.

I moan and tip my head to the side.

He nips at my skin. “Tell me I can have you, Elara. Despite recent events, tell me you want this, too.”

I do.

Gods know I do.

And after weeks of enduring his presence, after that kiss, there will be no convincing myself otherwise.

My eyes flutter closed, and I take a deep breath.

Then I admit the words that feel like I’m sealing my fate. “I want you, Rian.”

A sexy, desperate sound vibrates from his throat. “Finally.”

My eyes fly open right as he dives forward.

His lips capture mine. I slide my arms around his neck and press myself into his body, rising on my toes to deepen the fierce kiss.

Darkness flies across my eyelids.

I crack them wide enough to confirm that shadows weave around us chaotically, unbound. As untethered as the storm of lust whipping through my own body and soul.

Rian lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist, the skirt of my dress bunching at my hips, and we pick up right where we left off days ago in my room.

He walks, spins, and pins me against the wall.

A framed picture clatters to the ground. We don’t break our kiss.

Tongues dance. Teeth collide. His hands grip my thighs, holding me firmly as his mouth devours mine.

My hands roam his face, shoulders, biceps, squeezing and caressing, meeting him stroke for stroke, lick for lick.