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This is the man my father expected me to marry. At least, I think so. My father didn't tell me his first name, only that he was an Ulstead from the Stonehaven Kingdom. Their kingdom borders Fable Forest on the opposite side from the Rosewood Kingdom.
"Do you have siblings?" I ask, my heart pounding like a drum.
He shakes his head.
It is him! I open my mouth to tell him who I am when he speaks again.
"I wish I did," he mutters, a hint of rebellion in his eyes. "One of them could take this God-forsaken kingdom and the responsibility that comes with it."
"You don't want to be king?"
"Not if it means being controlled."
"What do you mean?"
"My father sees me as nothing more than a chess piece, a pawn to move around the board," he says, his voice hard. Cold rage simmers in his gaze. "He thinks he can sell me into a fucking marriage without my consent. Hell will freeze over before it happens, Thalia. I won't be controlled or forced into anything."
My chest aches at his words. If I tell him the truth now about who I am, he'll hate me.
But in this moment, I see him—truly see him. Not as a prince or my betrothed, but as a man fighting for his freedom. And despite my fear that the truth will destroy everything, I've never felt closer to anyone in my entire life.
He's every bit as much a prisoner of his lineage as I am. No wonder my father chose him. It sounds like his father and mine are just alike. They probably had a grand time signing away our futures without consulting us.
"Your future and your destiny should be your own," I whisper softly, understanding the desire all the way to my bones.
"Exactly," he agrees, a fierce glint in his obsidian eyes. "No one dictates my path. I know how that ends. I saw it with my mother. She's from Fable Forest, you know. She and my father were destined to be together." He laughs bitterly. "Their perfect fucking fairytale ended in devastation. That won't be me. I control my own destiny."
His declaration of autonomy is fierce, a wild thing that can't be caged. To reveal that his fate was altered by magic—that I'm his destiny and we're bound by a curse—would send him running just as fast as the truth about who I am. Faster, perhaps.
I know this because just this morning, I was him. When I was backed into a corner, my choice taken from me, I ran. It's what we do when the things we want so fiercely are stripped from us. We run. We fight. We refuse to give an inch.
He wants nothing to do with magic, fairytales, or fate. If I tell him the truth, he'll walk out of here and I'll never see him again. What happens then? If he rejects me, does the curse sink its claws into me again? Am I right back where I started, running for my life? Only worse off than ever because there is no hope this time?
I don't know. It's never happened. A Rosewood has never been rejected by her true love. If she is—what happens with the curse?
The possibilities are terrifying, so I don't say anything. Not yet. Perhaps, someday, but not yet.
"The time for talking is done," Troy growls, his voice cutting through the silence.
"What time is it now?" I ask, feigning innocence even though I know exactly what he craves. The tent in his boxers leaves no doubts.
His lips curl into a predatory smirk. He steps up beside me, raw power etched into every line of his muscular frame. "It's time for you to get on your knees and show me how sweet you look with your lips wrapped around my cock, Thalia."
Oh, God.
Yes.
I don't hesitate. I climb from the bed, letting the twisted sheets fall from around me as I sink to my knees, eager to taste him. To please him.
I gaze up at him through my lashes, reaching for the waistband of his boxers.
I tug them down, moaning as his erection springs free, bouncing against his stomach. I've never seen a cock before, but his is a beast, standing tall and proud.
"You're so beautiful," I whisper, stretching eagerly toward him. My fingers brush along his shaft, reverent, exploring. He's so hard, like velvet steel.
"Jesus," he groans, a bead of moisture spilling from the tip.
I run my thumb over it, collecting it.
