Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Prince Thorne smiled faintly. “And if your guards are killed?”
My stomach knotted, gaze shooting to the door. I didn’t even want to think about that.
“Then I suppose I would be up the river without a paddle, as they say,” he said, sliding his hand over my thigh. His palm grazed my stomach.
Prince Thorne smirked. “Well, let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Let’s.” Claude’s fingers returned to the lacing, as did the Prince’s regard. “But in all seriousness? If that were to happen? I would defend what is mine in any way I possibly could. Even if I haven’t picked up a sword in many years.”
Halting with his whiskey halfway to his mouth, Prince Thorne tilted his head. “And what do you consider yours?”
Claude’s fingers brushed over the swell of my breast. “Everything that you see.”
“Everything?” Prince Thorne pressed.
“The city, from the Eastern Canal to the Wychwoods, and her people. Their homes and livelihoods,” Claude said, and it was the first time I’d heard him sound, well, like a baron should. Which was a stark contrast to his fingers dragging over the tip of my breast. I jerked, a small breath escaping me. The thin material was no real barrier against the coolness of his touch. “The grounds and gardens, this very home and everyone inside it.”
“Your staff?” The Prince’s gaze was latched on to the Baron’s hand. “Your paramours?” Taking a drink, he didn’t blink. “Your pet?”
I jolted again, and this time it had nothing to do with Claude’s touch. My eyes narrowed on the Hyhborn prince, but he didn’t see. How could he when his attention was fixed to the Baron’s hand and my breast?
“Especially her.” Claude’s cool, damp lips pressed against the side of my neck. “She is the most valuable of all.”
My brows shot up.
Prince Thorne lowered his whiskey as his gaze lifted to Claude’s. “I do believe that is something we can agree on.”
I stiffened. “I am sitting— ” My breath caught as Claude rolled the sensitive peak of my breast with his fingers. My grip tightened on the flute stem as the flames above the candles flickered once more.
“You were saying?” Prince Thorne questioned, one side of his lips curving up.
“I was saying, I’m sitting right here.” I ignored Claude’s hand as it trailed back down my stomach— ignored the Prince’s heated gaze that followed, and that heightened, dual sensation of hot and cold. “In case you two have forgotten.”
“Trust me,” Prince Thorne drawled, leaning back. The stars were even brighter in his eyes. “Neither of us has forgotten.”
“That is the second thing we can both agree on.” Claude drew his fingers down, past my navel and between my thighs, his hand further widening the gap in the panels.
“I’m glad to hear that you two have discovered something to bond over,” I said, lifting my chin. “I hope I can provide a third thing.”
“And what is that?” Claude asked, retrieving his glass.
“I am not a possession.” I waited till the Prince’s gaze returned to mine. “I am owned by no one.”
“Agreed,” Claude murmured, his fingers pressing into the skin of my inner thigh, drawing my leg a few inches to the side until there was no doubt that the Prince could see the scant black lace between my thighs.
Prince Thorne’s gaze hadn’t missed a second, and I thought that . . . that his lips had parted just the slightest as he seemed to soak in what the Baron had revealed to him— purposely revealed. My skin flushed hot beneath his stare, but not with shame. A part of me thought that maybe I should be embarrassed. That if I was good, I should put a stop to whatever it was that Claude was currently up to, because I was really beginning to wonder exactly how drunk Claude truly was.
He was either far more intoxicated than I suspected, or he was handling his drink better than I believed, because his actions and words had become entirely precise and clear.
The Baron was often playful, especially when he drank, even with me when it led nowhere, but I was beginning to think I’d been wrong about Claude being unaware of what the Prince was paying such close attention to. There was a taunting edge to Claude’s actions now. As if it was not his own desire that drove him, but what he saw in the Prince’s stare.
But I made no move to stop Claude. I couldn’t . . . or I didn’t want to as the Prince watched, as heat in my skin flooded my veins. And maybe I had drunk more champagne than I had thought, because I was suddenly emboldened.
“How about you, Your Grace?” I challenged. “Do you agree?”
The dancing flames cast interesting shadows across his features. “I would, except that would be a lie.”