Loving a Prince Charming (8 page)

And then his fingers pulled. Around and
around, the wrapping came undone. With its constriction gone, her
breathing should have gotten easier, but it was still hard to take
in air; her chest still fought for oxygen, all because of the
reverent, half-lidded look in his eyes.

The strip of cloth fell to the bed. He
swallowed, licked his lips. With tentative movements, he cupped her
breast in his palm and squeezed the malleable flesh.

His palm was rough, but the resulting
friction sent shivers through her, concentrating in a strange,
languid sensation between her thighs. “Oh.”

He growled in his throat at her exclamation,
a sound she’d never heard before, and brought the other hand to cup
her as well. He massaged both of her breasts, flicking his thumb
over the nipples, and watched as they firmed into stiff little
points. He bent down and drew the right one into his mouth.

The friction was nothing compared to the
moist sucking he subjected her breast to, and her slight shivers
gradually became arching her back and pushing herself into his
mouth in order to get every inch of him she could. Seth responded
in kind, pulling her in harder and even beginning to use the light
graze of his teeth.

“This is good,” she said, voice breathy.
“Very good.”

He released one nipple. “I’ll keep that in
mind,” he said and went to the other breast to do the same.

She raked her nails down his back, gratified
when he released her breast and a small hiss escaped his mouth. She
pulled him back up to kiss him hard, demanding he allow her
entrance. With his mouth otherwise occupied, she went to his
trousers, releasing the material and pushing it down his hips.

Seth jumped from the bed, eager to help her.
A quick shove, and his pants were gone, leaving behind only naked
flesh and aroused male. He crawled over her, smiling down at her.
“What about these?” he asked, pulling at the waistband of her own
trousers. “Shouldn’t they go as well?”

“I think you’ll have to help me—” The words
weren’t even finished being spoken when his eager fingers
unfastened and started pulling.

The giggle burst through, and Kira wriggled
her hips to help him. With a long pull, her own pants and underwear
were now removed, and she was as naked as he was.

His face lost the smile he’d been wearing as
he looked down at her, his eyes taking in her body in long sweeps,
his tongue licking his lips while the hard length of his cock
became even more prominent.

She reached out and grasped him, encircling
him with her hand. He was firm and warm, the skin silky.

“Kira, it feels so good.”

She wanted him then, with no further
preliminaries. Letting go of him, she leaned back and held up her
arms.

With careful movements he lay on top of her.
He knew just what she wanted—of course he did—and he settled
between her thighs. He leaned down to kiss her again while his hand
reached between their bodies and started touching her. He found a
particularly nice spot, and she gasped at the surge of pleasure
that rocked her.

He didn’t let go of her mouth. He kept
circling his hand, taking her cries as his due as the wetness and
heat increased between them. Kira nipped at his lip to get him to
release her mouth. “Inside me,
now
.”

His blue eyes were now black, his ragged
breaths matched her own, and Seth used the hand that had been
bringing her such pleasure to guide himself into her.

There was no pain, only a sense of being
stretched, of forming herself around him to become a perfect fit.
Seth’s eyes closed and he dropped his head to her chest, and when
they were fully joined he stopped.

Kira waited several moments. When he still
didn’t move, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

His smile against her skin brought an
answering one to her face, confusion or no. “I may have joked about
premature ejaculation earlier, but trust me, no man actually wants
that to happen.” She laughed, and he groaned, holding himself
slightly apart from her on shaking arms. “Kiiirraa, not
helping.”

She nipped his ear and wrapped her legs
around his hips, bringing him down against her once again and
providing very interesting friction against her body. “Move,
you.”

“Fine, but if I can’t hold out, you have no
one to blame but yourself.”

Her second laugh turned into a moan as he
began with gentle stroke – long, firm, deep, and powerful enough to
rock her.

Kira’s legs tightened on him and she kissed
his jaw, his cheek, his neck. Seth was inside her, but not close
enough, never enough. She rolled her hips to meet his
ever-quickening thrusts, bringing him deeper and deeper into
her.

The taste of salt and man coated her tongue
and his raspy breaths and groans sounded in her ear. “Kira, Kira,
Kira,” he chanted, his words a plea and a prayer entangled
together. The flesh under her hands was warm and damp and she
clawed him closer, their chests pressed together.

A tingling built through her, a tension
toward something just out of her reach. “Seth,” she cried.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice guttural. “I’ve
got you, Kira. I’m with you.”

She moved against him harder, stretching the
edges of that curious tightness until it snapped and her body
tumbled into pleasure. Every muscle tightened and released as she
climaxed, and Seth’s answering cry was loud in her ear as her body
clenched around him. He kept pushing into her hard, and with only a
few more thrusts he found his own pleasure.

He collapsed on her, his warm weight pressing
her into the bed. Her arms and legs encompassed him, held him close
to her, his weight no consideration at all.

They lay like that for several minutes,
wrapped tightly in one another’s arms. After they were both
breathing normally ad the sweat was cool on their skin, Seth
nuzzled her neck, her cheek, his hands coming to rest in her hair.
“I’m too heavy.”

Her legs tightened. “No, stay.”
Stay,
stay, stay. Stay forever. Stay with me
.

She leaned up and began nibbling his ear, and
was rewarded with a stirring of life from below. “I believe someone
mentioned a round two?”

“Yeah.” He pulled away from her, looking down
with a satisfied smirk plastered over that handsome face. “Also
three and four, if you’re lucky.”

“Trust me,” she said, twisting her hips
against him and making him moan. “I am very lucky indeed.”

Kira no longer traveled with him.

The early morning sun rose overhead. The day
promised to be sunny and cheerful, with birds flying overhead,
singing and twirling their own private joys. It was wrong that not
every living thing joined him in his mourning. Why should they
sing, when Kira was even now traveling the opposite path?

Was this what a man felt when he lost a limb?
When he kept looking to see it, a twitching and tight and pinched
appendage, only to discover a blank spot where something so
necessary once lay?

Dark thoughts swept through him even as the
sun rose higher and the animals began the preparations for their
day. Only if a random peasant burst into song could the day become
any more nauseatingly cheerful.

When Matthias’s castle loomed before him, he
was surprised. He hadn’t realized he had traveled that far. It was
though it appeared without warning. Well, not without warning, just
without his attention.

Kira would be ashamed of him.

A sob tore at his throat. He held it back,
only for another to chase it, and then another, and then another.
They poured forth, deep, choking sounds that tore away and were
carried on the wind.

The birds no longer sang when Seth finished,
but he wouldn’t have minded their song now. The tears were
cleansing, freeing. He had a dozen-plus years of keeping his secret
and dreading the loss of Kira. They were over, and though the wound
was raw and deep and would never heal, not truly, he kept his word.
Today, Rosamund would be free, and the nightmares that he would
fail her would stop.

No one stopped him as he entered the palace.
His feet carried him down a long-forgotten corridor and toward a
double door that still made him uneasy. A shove, darkness, and
there she was.

She was older now, a young woman with
still-delicate features and too-pale skin. “Seth?”

He breathed deep. He was here, and she was
here. This was going to work. “Hello, Rosamund.”

Her smile was tremulous, unsure. She took a
half-step toward him before she stopped. “Did my father send
you?”

“No, I came on my own. I know how we can
break the curse.” Her eyes grew brighter, hope building upon each
word. Yes, this was the right thing. No matter the consequences, he
was glad to be here for her. “I’ve come to set you free.”

She broke out into a teary smile, a choked
little laugh her answer. She took two quick steps toward him and
wrapped him in her arms. “I knew you would. I knew you’d save
me.”

“I promised, didn’t I? I said I would marry
you and no other.”

She hung on for a moment longer before she
let go. “I know you did. I was afraid and silly, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“To go where?”

“To get married.”

Rosamund giggled as Seth led her away. Only
instinct guided his steps, instinct that was proven right when
moments later they found themselves in the dark room. This time,
Seth pushed open the doors and they walked outside, into the
light.

Rosamund faltered. Seth turned to see her
staring in open-mouthed wonder through the windows at the wooded
grove beyond the castle. “They’re so beautiful,” she said, her
voice low, reverent. “And the colors. No painting was ever that
vibrant.”

“Let’s go now.” Seth reached out to grab her
hand, but at the first brush of skin on skin he faltered. Her hand
was too small, too cold. Her fingers didn’t thread with his; they
were awkward in his grip. Without meaning to, he pulled his hand
away.

There was hurt in her eyes as she stared at
him, the first crack in the happiness that she expressed since he
arrived. In an effort to smooth the hurt away, he motioned with a
flick of his fingers. “We need to get married and have our first
kiss. That will break the curse. I know where to go, and it’ll be
done by the end of the day.”

But Rosamund didn’t follow. She stayed where
she was, her eyebrows pulled tight together. “Did you come here
alone?”

“What?” The question was unexpected, as was
her expression. She was about to be saved, and all her face showed
was resigned sadness.

“Did someone help you come here?”

“Yes. My friend Kira came with me. She was my
guard throughout the trip.”

Rosamund’s expression got darker. “Where is
she now?”

“She stayed in town.”

“Why would she stay in town? Why wouldn’t she
protect you until the last minute? Between town and here would
still be dangerous. So why didn’t she come with you?” She stared at
him, twisting her hands in front of her. He could see the pulse
beat in her throat and her bottom lip trembling.

Something was very wrong, and he didn’t know
what it was, let alone how to correct it, but he forged ahead. “She
thought it was best that we were alone right now. This is a
delicate time.”

“Delicate? Delicate for
who
? Her, of
course. And I guess you as well.
He
told me it would be that
way.”

She was visibly agitated now, her pulse
hammering in visible staccato. “Rosamund, he who? Please, I don’t
understand.”

“I tried telling myself it was my
imagination, but I always knew he was real. He couldn’t reach me,
but he could talk to me, and he told me all about you and her. He
told me you would never keep your promise.”

Everything was splintering around him. In
desperation, he tried his trump card. “What’s wrong? You’re safe
now.”

“No, I’m not.” She smiled, the trembling lip
worsening. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”

She ran back into the castle.

“Rosamund!”

She tore through doors and down hallways
until she reached a long, winding flight of stairs. She was quicker
than he thought, keeping a good pace in front of him as she
ascended the stairway. A dozen steps ahead of him, she crashed
against a thick black door that led to the tower room.

And she screamed.

Terror pounded through Seth as he finished
those last few steps and entered the room, only to stop dead. A
spindle sat in the middle of the room, gleaming dark wood with a
bright gold needle sparking in the sunlight streaming from the lone
window high above.

Her mouth was twisted into a silent horror.
Tears purified and lightened the color of her eyes, a catacomb gray
that followed the droplet of blood as it marked its winding path
down her finger.

His fingers wrapped around hers, the stain of
her blood now marring him, but against the tan of his skin already
her own was growing paler, the beginnings of the curse visible.

Her eyes met his, and in his mind she was
that pretty little eleven-year-old again, a sweet spirit he’d
wanted more than anything to love and care for, and he did. He did
love her.

But he’d failed her. He’d promised her and
he’d failed her. All the love within him he felt for her, he could
never quite turn it how he’d wanted. He could never turn it from
the love for a beloved sister to the love a man felt for his woman.
He could never turn it because his desire, his love, his devotion
had always belonged to a flame-haired woman who fit him, always at
his side and always in the center of his soul.

His love belonged with Kira. His promise to
Rosamund had been broken before it had ever been made, because he
already had a true love.

The white flash of realization had not yet
faded from his vision when he yelled out, “Reina!
Reina!
”