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He clears his throat. “I–uh. I’m going to need a minute.”
Rinan sits down on the bed, his head resting in his hands. He reaches down and shifts himself in his pants and sighs.
“How long does it usually take?” I ask.
“What?” he mumbles, head still down.
“Your erection to go soft.”
He’s quiet, and then he tells me softly, “Not this long, but these are… extenuating circumstances.”
I have no idea what he means, but I do understand his need for time. Hell, my heart hasn’t slowed down yet. We started in a flash and stopped just as fast. I feel like my body might be humming for days after this. And yet, I have to go face some angry shifters as soon as he’s done.
Maybe I’m okay with his boner lasting a little longer.
FOURTEEN
Tara
Prince Rinan stands, no longer visibly aroused. Although I miss the little guy. “You go wake up Prince Drogo, and I’ll wake Prince Arlys. We’ll meet in Prince Drogo’s room”
I nod, and he darts out of the room, clearly excited about any progress with the Illness. For a minute, I am too, and then I remember that I have to go wake the crotchety man.
Why do I have to wake up the shifter who hates me the most?
Squaring my spine, I head down the hall. The couple of servants I pass on the way give me small smiles, and I smile back. Progress is progress. Maybe my shifter husbands aren’t liking or trusting me, but their people are starting to come around.
I make my way to his room and tap on the door to wake him. It doesn’t, so I knock harder. When that doesn’t work, I sigh and open the door. The room is dark, but surprisingly pleasant. Somehow, I’d expected all black leather and dark red decorations. Instead, it’s a mix of blue and brown. Soothing and nice in an unexpected way.
Closing the door, I inch deeper into the room. He’s asleep on the bed. He’s sprawled out, shirtless, with the blankets just barely covering his waist.
I lick my lips, drinking in every inch of the tattooed man. He looks good half-naked. Better than is fair. For such an asshole, he should look like a giant pile of shit, with a sty in one eye, a hunch back, and abs like a pregnant horse.
“Drogo?” I call.
He doesn’t stir.
I bite my lip, debating what to do. I could start yelling, but maybe I should wake the angry man up a little more gently than that. Walking over to his bed, I touch his shoulder, attempting to wake him up gently. He stirs a little, and then I give him a small shake.
He wakes up with a start and grabs me, rolling on top of me in one swift move that leaves me breathless. What the hell? His weight on me is almost suffocating, a strange kind of pressure that I’m too frozen to try to struggle away from.
His dark eyes open, his gaze fixed on me. But there’s no anger in his face, just confusion. “Are you trying to kill me?” he growls.
“What? No,” I tell him. He’s the one after me.
I frown up at him, trying to decide how best to get out of this alive. But before I can decide, he pins me down, holding my hands above my head. Instinct makes me shove against his hands, but they’re like iron around me.
Lowering his head close to mine, he asks, “Why are you in my bedchambers if you’re not trying to kill me?”
I twist my body underneath him, but he’s so much bigger and stronger than I am. His nose brushes against my neck, and he breathes me in. I continue to squirm under him, suddenly feeling his erection between my thighs. He presses himself against me, rubbing roughly between my thighs until a moan slips from my lips.
That feels good. Fuck. He has to stop.
“You smell… fucking hell,” he groans, then nips my neck with his teeth.
I actually feel my nipples harden, and I’m glad I’m wearing a dress and not a nightgown, or it’d be obvious. His lips keep going, rubbing against my neck as he breathes me in. I’ve never thought smelling someone was erotic, but this is so hot that my body is buzzing.
“What a-are you doing?”
