🔞🔞🔞🔞Two weeks had dissolved into a blur of anxiety. Now, I stood in the King’s Hall, the weight of an elegant, form-fitting emerald dress clinging to my skin like a second layer of armor. My focus was locked on the woman across the room: Princess Lydia Darkmoor. Her violet eyes were as sharp as obsidian, matched by the haunting lilac gaze of the man at her side—her brother, Prince Clyde.
As they offered their formal greetings to my father, the air in the room grew heavy with the scent of impending alliances. During the lavish feast that followed, I felt the weight of Clyde’s attention. He made no effort to mask the blatant, hungry lust in his eyes. A shiver of disgust raced down my spine, but I maintained my mask—a cold, unreadable facade of royal indifference.
"You are a rare beauty, Princess Callista," Clyde remarked, his voice dripping with unwanted familiarity.
I met his stare with ice. "Prince Clyde, I trust our hospitality has not fallen short of your Calligo standards."
Before he could press further, the heavy oak doors groaned open with a resounding thud. The evening air rushed in, carrying the metallic tang of salt spray and blood.
Emrys, the Crown Prince of Asch, strode into the light. He was a vision of chaos amidst the finery; his leather doublet was stained with grime, his cloak damp from the sea. He carried an aura of raw authority that instantly silenced the room.
"Forgive the delay, Father," Emrys announced, his voice a deep, steady resonance. He bowed to the King before his eyes swept over the guests. "Princess Lydia, Prince Clyde—the Dark Deep Sea has been restless. A surge of sea-terrors threatened the blockade; I could not leave until the perimeter was secure."
His eyes caught mine for a fraction of a second—a flash of protective fire—before settling on Clyde. The atmosphere shifted from Clyde’s suffocating lust to the heavy, charged tension of a warrior’s presence.
"I trust," Emrys added, sliding into the seat beside me, his voice dropping an octave, "that my sister has been a gracious host?".
Lydia did not flinch. She watched Emrys with the calculating precision of a predator. "A treacherous domain, Prince Emrys," she mused, her voice like silk over shattered glass. "Your arrival is timely. It is better to discuss survival while the scent of battle is still fresh on your cloak."
Her gaze flickered between Emrys and me, noting the way his hand lingered near my shoulder. "I have always admired how your house keeps its secrets," she whispered, a predatory smile showing teeth. "But when two people are so... perfectly in sync... it is rarely just due to shared lineage."
The silence was deafening. Emrys’s jaw tightened, his fist clenching beneath the table. Lydia knew.
Before the fuse could blow, the King struck the table. "The tides are restless, Princess Lydia. That is why we speak of unity. Emrys and Lydia—the marriage alliance will be finalized by the coming full moon."
The blood drained from my face. Lydia’s smirk turned into a look of triumphant conquest. But my father wasn't finished.
"And for Callista," he continued, his voice chillingly final, "she shall marry into the House of Crowley. An envoy has been dispatched to the frozen North. Nevalis will secure our flank."
The room shrank. Nevalis—a land of black ice and ancient, cold-blooded men. I looked at Emrys, my facade finally cracking. We were being exiled in plain sight, torn apart by the very bloodline that bound us.
As the feast ended, I slipped away through a servant’s passage, the silk of my skirts hissing against the stone. I reached the shadows of the West Library, the air thick with the scent of old parchment. Moments later, the door groaned. Emrys was there.
"Nevalis," he spat, his eyes burning. He closed the distance between us, his calloused thumbs brushing my cheek. "Your body and soul are mine, Callista."
The world outside vanished. I reached for him, and we collided in a desperate, hungering kiss. Our breaths hitched as we grappled with each other in the dark.
"Damn it, Callista... I can’t wait," Emrys growled. He lifted me onto the heavy oak table, his movements rough and frantic. He tore at my corset laces, baring my breasts to the cool library air. He guided my hand to his rigid, throbbing length, urging me to feel the heat of his desire while his other hand possessively kneaded my flesh.
With a violent tug, he stripped away my undergarments, revealing my slick, aching heat. He slid two fingers inside me, scissoring with a brutal rhythm that made me arch my back and cry out. He caught the sound with his mouth, his tongue exploring mine with a possessive ferocity.
"I will not forgive you if you ever moan like this for another man," he warned, his voice a ragged snarl against my neck. He bit into the sensitive skin of my shoulder, and I let out a sharp cry.
"Emrys, stop... it will leave a mark," I pleaded, though I was pulling him closer.
He ignored me, his mouth finding my nipples, sucking and pulling with the hunger of a man possessed until the first wave of climax shattered through me.
"Do you want it, Callista? Do you want my cock?" he teased, watching my hips twitch against his hand.
"I want it... please, Emrys. I want you inside me," I sobbed, the fear of the North and the Princess forgotten.
"Then earn it," he commanded, his voice dark.
I slid off the table, kneeling before him. I took his heavy length into my hands, sliding it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head before taking him deep. I worked him with a feverish intensity, my hands stroking his base as his groans filled the library.
When he pulled me up, he didn't wait. He turned me around, forcing me to lean over the table. I gripped the wood for support as he drove himself into me from behind with a single, devastating thrust. It felt as though he were reaching my very soul.
He intensified the pace, his hands gripping my arms, pulling me back against his armored chest. My breasts swayed with every heavy strike.
"Emrys, please... fill me... I want it all," I begged as the tension coiled to a breaking point.
At the final moment, just as the heat began to spill, Emrys wrenched himself out of me. I collapsed against the table, gasping, a hollow disappointment settling in my gut as I turned to look at him.
"Why?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
He leaned down, kissing my forehead with a look of dark satisfaction. "It would be a disaster if you were carrying my child when you met the Crowleys. Next time, I will have a contraceptive prepared. But for now... you are still mine."
