Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
I fumble with his clothes and mine, needing my hands on his skin, needing the reassurance of his heat.
“Brie.” Suddenly he grabs my wrists and pins my hands above my head. But when he lifts his head to look into my eyes, the tenderness I saw last night is gone. He looks down at me through pools of raw need. Lust lined with agony.
“I need you.” I shift my hips beneath him.
Holding my gaze, he thrusts into me, and my breath leaves me in a rush of pleasure and relief as we find a rhythm that gives and takes in equal measure.
His hands slide up from my wrists until his palms flatten against mine, our fingers intertwining. Pleasure builds and stretches, spreading through and filling me until it invades every last inch and there’s no room for more. His mouth claims mine, our release hits at the same moment. The intensity of it shocks me, and I bite his lip and taste blood.
When he lifts his head, he’s panting. His eyes are unfocused, his lip swollen and cracked where I bit him. He releases my hands and strokes his thumb along my jaw, scanning my face over and over.
Too quickly, the heat in his eyes cools. I can see him shut the door on this connection between us, can sense him withdrawing even as he tenderly touches his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”
Is he serious right now? Apologizing for something we both wanted? I would laugh if I weren’t still a little dizzy from our frenzy.
He rolls off me and hands me my clothes—my shirt, pants, and boots I don’t remember ever removing. I accept them and dress as he grabs his own shirt and pants.
I feel like a wall of ice has been dropped between us.
“Why is my leg healed?” I ask. I just want him to look at me again.
“They say when people die on visits to the Underworld, it’s their mind that gets them. I didn’t realize that meant the injuries weren’t real.” He focuses on the buttons on his tunic instead of glancing my way. Some of the hurt we sustained on that visit, it seems, was plenty real. “We should go.”
My body, hot everywhere only seconds ago, is too cold. I feel confused and rejected. I force myself to follow. “Finn, wait.” He stops, his back to me. “What’s happening right now?”
Without turning, he shakes his head. “We need to get back to the palace.”
I bite my lip. “I’m sorry that I ruined your chance to take the throne. I’m sorry that I ruined everything—that the only way you can save your people is to give the kingdom to me and the brother you hate. I’m sorry that—”
He spins on me, eyes flashing, jaw tight. “You think that’s why I’m upset?” He tilts his face up to the sky and shakes his head. “We should go,” he repeats.
I swallow, feeling hurt and rejected and like I have no right to either emotion. I shove it all down and look around. “Where are we?”
He cocks his head to the side. “You tell me, Princess.”
“I don’t know. How would I—” But then I feel it. It’s in the way my power hums, in the way energy sparks in my blood. “We’re still in the Unseelie Lands, but my magic isn’t back. We’re still on the Silent Ridge.”
He nods.
“But where?”
He huffs out a laugh. “I have no idea. I don’t exactly visit the Underworld very often.”
He starts walking. Away from the coast, with the afternoon sun on our right. South. All we can do is go south.
We hike for hours in silence before my magic returns, and only then do we take a break.
There you are, Misha says in my mind as I take drink from a cool mountain stream. We thought we lost you, Princess.
We made it, but I’m not sure where we are. Can you ask Sebastian to find us and bring a goblin if they’ll travel to wherever we are? We need to get home quickly.
Already on it.
When I stand, Finn’s staring at me, his brow arched. “Making plans with Misha?”
I nod. “Sebastian will meet us with a goblin.”
“Lovely. Just the male I want to see,” Finn mutters, stepping around me.
“You’re in a mood.”
He grunts. “My apologies.”
“What are you thinking about?”
He shrugs. “Duty, honor, sacrifice. The usual.” I think it’s supposed to be a joke, but his voice is far too hard for it to come out that way.
“Such a noble prince,” I whisper. I mean it, though. The difference between Sebastian and Finn is that Sebastian wanted the crown, but Finn just wanted to help his people. There’s no question in my mind which would make the better king, but I don’t get to choose.
He huffs. “Not so much, and therein lies the problem.”