Fall of Ruin and Wrath (Awakening, #1)

“Are you as cruel as the rumors claim you are?” he asked, causing my heart to turn over heavily.

Prince Thorne didn’t answer for several too-long moments, only watching as Claude’s fingers continued to move. “Only when necessary.”

Claude seemed to understand whatever that meant. “Would you like something other than whiskey to drink? You haven’t touched what you have in some time.”

“It’s not what I’m thirsty for.”

“I suppose not.” Claude had gone quiet, and that flipping motion repeated. “Pet?” he said against my flushed temple, his thumb sweeping over the throbbing juncture of nerves. “Why don’t you go to the Prince.”

My gaze collided with the Prince’s. The air stilled in my lungs as my body locked up, but my heart hammered.

“He does look lonely,” Claude whispered. “Does he not?”

Prince Thorne didn’t look lonely.

His entire body appeared taut, features sharper in the violently dancing flames. He looked . . .

Prince Thorne looked hungry.

“Go,” urged Claude, slipping his arm from my waist and his hand from between my legs.

I hesitated despite the stunning pulse of desire that echoed in response to the Baron’s . . . what? Order? Permission? I didn’t know which it was. I knew Claude liked to be watched and liked to watch, but this was a prince. Not one of his paramours and another aristo.

But I slipped from his lap and stood, placing my glass on the table. Prince Thorne said nothing, but he tracked me as I walked on legs that felt weaker than they should. I looked at the door, knowing I could leave. Claude wouldn’t stop me. I didn’t think Prince Thorne would. I could easily walk out and put a stop to whatever madness this was beginning to feel like.

I didn’t.

If this were anyone else, I would’ve, but it was him.

I went to the Prince’s side, heart pounding and hands tingling. He looked up at me, still silent, and suddenly I thought that it might have been a good idea to leave. Clearly, if the Prince wanted company, he would’ve said so. A different kind of burn hit my skin. I started to take a step back—

Prince Thorne extended his arm as he leaned back. I froze.

Swirling eyes met mine. “Sit.”

Feeling as if I couldn’t breathe deeply enough, I slipped between him and the table. That was as far as I made it. His arm came around my hips and he tugged me down into his lap.

I felt him immediately.

He was thick and hard against my bottom. My gasp likely echoed through the too-silent hall. Across from me, Claude smiled.

Prince Thorne’s chest was flush against my back. One hand just below my chest, fingers splayed across my ribs, he was sitting straighter than the Baron had been as his fingers left the glass of whiskey. “What do you think of the Princess of Visalia’s intentions to rebel?” he asked of Claude.

“I’m not sure I know enough about her intentions to have an opinion.” The Baron lifted his glass.

“You know she wants to rule,” Prince Thorne said as I watched that hand slip across the smooth surface of the wood, my heart still pounding. “Is that enough?”

“I suppose, but if what drives her is simply a desire to overthrow King Euros?” Claude snorted, taking a drink. “Then I don’t hold her intentions in very high esteem.”

The Prince’s hand left the table and went to my thigh. I gave a little jump as his warm skin came in contact with mine. He didn’t stop there. There was no teasing or . . . or taunting. His hand slid under the gown and between my legs, fingers delving beneath the scrap of lace and against the damp flesh there. My body reacted, back arching and hips lifting to his touch. His chest vibrated against my back, the low rumble scorching my skin. I didn’t know what caused that sound— if it was my reaction or his to the slickness.

“The hunger for power seems to be something that plagues both lowborn and Hyhborn equally,” Claude was saying. “You can’t really fault one for doing what has become second nature.”

“I suppose not,” Prince Thorne said, slipping one finger through the throbbing dampness, and then inside me. My hips rolled as I gripped the arm of the chair. The sound he made then was unmistakable. A low chuckle. “Can you, pet? It’s only nature for any species to assert dominance,” he added as his finger plunged deep.

My head snapped toward his. Our mouths were inches apart. “Do not call me that.”

The blue of his eyes raced across the other colors. “What am I supposed to call you?”

“Not that— ” I gasped as his finger hooked, finding a . . . a spot.

His gaze roamed over my face, seeming to catch the heightening in color. “What do you say then? Can you blame another for attempting to dominate what they want?”

“I . . .” I had a feeling he wasn’t just speaking of the leader of the Iron Knights, but I couldn’t be sure, because he touched that spot again. A riot of sensations arced through me. I leaned into him. “I . . . I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

“On what one is attempting to dominate,” I said, looking away. “And why they want it.”

Claude was now who watched, but . . . but I realized that how Prince Thorne sat, my lap and his hand were shielded by the table.

Unlike the Baron, he didn’t want another watching that closely, which was surprising. I would’ve thought . . .

My thoughts scattered as the Prince’s thumb joined in. I trembled as all those acute curling motions rapidly built. The Prince’s body— his hand and his fingers warmed, heated against me and inside me. Oh gods, I’d never felt anything like that. The edge of the wood dug into my palm.

“But I doubt simply a hunger for more power could drive one, even a princess, to be so bold and reckless as to attempt to seize a city that would draw the ire and the might of the King,” Claude continued. “Surely, there must be more than a port that she finds valuable enough to risk being destroyed for.”

Something . . . something about how Claude spoke caused my skin to prickle with awareness. Breathing too fast, I tried to focus.

“I do believe that is the third thing . . .” Prince Thorne’s finger thrust, his thumb swirled, and it was . . . it was too much. The pleasure building bordered on pain. I started to push away. The arm around my waist prevented that. “That we agree on.”

The tension erupted without warning. I came, crying out—

Prince Thorne’s hand covered my mouth, muffling the moan of release. “Not here,” he whispered in my ear. “Not for anyone else’s ears but mine.”

My eyes closed as I shuddered, lost a little in the waves of raw pleasure— in the feel of his hard flesh and the tendons of his forearm that I had clutched at some point— and I heard and saw nothing. All I felt was the rippling tremors of pleasure and the heated presence of his finger as it slowed.

I was panting as I settled in his lap, body limp and relaxed completely into his. I watched through half-opened eyes as he slid his palm over my thigh and lifted his hand.

Prince Thorne’s eyes snagged mine as he brought his glistening finger to his mouth and . . . and sucked deep.

Oh gods, my entire body tensed once more.

“Thank you,” he said, then his gaze flicked to the Baron. “I do enjoy dessert.”

Claude laughed deeply, finishing off his glass of brandy. “Don’t we all?”

“There is something I require from you, Baron,” Prince Thorne said after a moment, his other hand returning to my waist while I focused on slowing my breathing and my heart. “I want her.”

I went stiff.

“I want her,” Prince Thorne repeated. “For the duration of my time here, she is mine.”





CHAPTER 23


The unexpected and possibly inappropriate orgasm had likely addled my mind, because there was no way I’d heard Prince Thorne correctly.

Claude slowly lowered the bottle of brandy. “Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” Prince Thorne countered.

Disbelief coursed through me. I had heard him correctly.