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I ached to taste them, to slip my tongue between them. My cock throbbed, and my whole body burned for the forbidden, the untouchable, the riddle of the prince who cut throats. What would his kiss be like? Hard and fast, or soft and slow? Would he hurt me? I might ask him to.
He caught my chin—as he had when I’d lain in my bed—stepped forward, and pinned me to the side of the pool. Lean, hard muscle pushed in, his thigh, his hip, his… cock, erect and against mine, trapping it to my hip. A gasp shuddered through me, almost a moan.
His gaze searched my eyes, and all his lofty princeliness faded, softening his face. It seemed he battled with something, perhaps his own desires. I hadn’t known he preferred men, but his dick made that fact very clear. If he kissed me, I wouldn’t be able to hold back. I wanted him, his hands on me, his mouth under mine, wanted to hear and feel him moan, his body slick against me. I wanted his hand at my throat, holding me down, his cock in my grip, my ass. I breathed hard, lost to a new scorching agony he’d ignited inside me.
His beautiful lips parted—
The door to the pool swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, and one of the men who’d beaten me the day before.
“These bathing pools are unbecoming of…” The brute trailed off at the sight of us. “Prince Arin?”
Arin huffed a dismissive laugh and moved away. “My mistake.” He strode up the steps. Water cascaded down his body. He made no attempt to hide his jutting dick.
I wet my lips and forced my gaze away, trying to wrestle rampaging desires back under control. It was rare for someone to fire me up like he had. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so aroused. Not in the last four years.
The prince dried and dressed himself. “Good day, Fool,” Arin said, back to his cold, hard, distant self.
In moments, Arin and his guard had gone, leaving the echo of his farewell in my mind and my dick demanding to be satisfied.
Alone, rattled, confused, inexplicably enthralled, and painfully aroused, I stared at the wall. He was playing me. I should hate him. I did, but also… didn’t. It was a madness. The madness of the Court of Love.
I grasped my cock in my right hand, clung to the poolside with my left, and pumped. Faster, harder. Someday soon, I’d hold him down, on his knees, and slide my dick between his peachy lips, and he’d take it, gag for it, his hard cock all the proof I needed he’d wanted it too.
Pleasure trilled, lighting up my spine, singing through my veins. More, I needed more. I lifted my left arm and bit down into my bicep. Pain sparked, danced through my veins, and I came, gasping free of the bite and shuddering hard, lost to the dream of seeing my cum on Prince Arin’s soft lips.
But with desire sated, and my heart slowing, reality clawed back in.
What if I’d met my nemesis in Prince Arin? What if he knew who I was, but even more than that, what if he knew why I was in his court?
Until now, I’d been the one in control of the Court of Love. I sensed that was about to change.
And if Draven had told Arin anything of my past, then I’d lose more than a finger. I’d lose my head.
CHAPTER6
It rained the day of the queen’s passing ceremony, as though the skies grieved, their tears seeking to dampen Katina’s pyre.
I hung back from the guests, royal and common alike. My presence didn’t seem fitting. I wasn’t of their court, my family wasn’t from this land, and there was no place for an entertainer here, at a time of grieving. Yet, I couldn’t seem to bring myself to leave.
After retreating under the cover of a large gnarled oak, I watched the procession of people march toward the flower meadows, where the pyre was stacked and waiting for its flame.
Countless brightly colored umbrellas bobbed, like a field of primroses. The passing ceremony was joyous in its colors, but solemn in its silence.
Rain soaked my hair and clothes, and a chill gnawed on my bones, although the weather wasn’t cold. The cold was within me.
Days and nights had come and gone since the tete-a-tete with Arin in the bathing pools. I hadn’t seen him since, or much of anyone. I’d kept to my room, waiting for the bruises to fade. Ellyn had dropped by, checking I hadn’t found more trouble. After Arin’s timely appearance at the baths, I’d begun to suspect Ellyn might have Arin’s ear as well as mine. It would explain how Arin had known where I’d be, and possibly knew more than he should, for someone who’d been hiding for years.
I’d have to be more careful around Ellyn. I should have known better than to make a friend. They were always weaknesses, in the end.
A torchbearer lit the pyre. Flames raced up toward the black skies. Some spluttered under the deluge, but the fire took hold. The crowds parted a little, easing back from the heat, and there, lit by the fire’s glow, Arin stood beside his father, head bowed. The grieving son. The heir. Not so kindly and innocent as I’d been told.
Had he tried to kill Draven, could he have killed his mother? Why though? What drove him? Who was he, really? So many questions.
Questions were all that prince ever gave me.
“You’re overdue,” a gruff, familiar voice rumbled over my left shoulder. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I’d been expecting Danyal days ago. I’d been due to meet up with him after I’d first taken Draven into the gardens as my alibi.
“I’ve been busy.” I flicked my fingers at the constant stream of people marching along the path beside us.
