Page 107 of The Hunted

And yet he couldn’t.

Wanting and doing were two different things.

It hadn’t helped his situation that when she’d said it wasn’t her who killed his mother that he’d had no choice but to believe her. He’d learned she was incapable of lying to him because he couldn’t fucking lie to her, either.

A strange thing, this mating.

It messed up everything.

And now, Eryx had no idea what he was to do next. Not with himself, her, or anything else about his life. Everything was different. Nothing could be the same.

That irked him.

A lot.

The laughing that accompanied clapping drew Eryx’s attention back to the center of the room from where he sat near the entry to the corridor. There, he found a handful of the estate’s staff still standing in the semi-circle that encased a dancing Arelle. The man who headed the servants had been playing an instrument that’d drawn Arelle’s attention.

And just like that, she’d made a friend.

Then, another.

And another.

Nearly all of the servants in the house greeted her now. They took time to make sure she had what she wanted or needed, no matter the time or night. Part of it, he knew, was because of him. The rest, however, was all on her.

She made friends.

Too easily, maybe.

She could walk amongst them, behave like them when she wanted, and it was just enough to trick them all into thinking she could be just like them, too. He’d been right when he’d said things would change for her with the servants in the house, but he’d been wrong to assume he would be the catalyst to it happening.

Eryx wasn’t sure what he hated more. Her, for being who she was and for doing what she did. Or himself because he liked her, when he wished he could still feel that same loathing he used to every time he looked at her beautiful face.

He’d not planned for this. What would happen now? Did he even have a choice in what he did with her? That was the real question.

Eryx was dragged from his thoughts when the singing started. His attention flew back to the woman in the middle of the room, her cream-colored gown spinning wildly like the curls flowing down her back as a song he didn’t know—but he swore his heart did—spilled from her painted red lips. She’d taken to letting Mara paint some of her features when she felt like it. The red on her lips was the one he enjoyed the most.

Especially when it left stains on his cock.

Those memories flashed through his mind as the invisible rope came to wrap around his middle. He didn’t even think about it, simply crossed the room to join her. She had already turned to reach for him, as though she’d known he was coming, when she hadn’t even been looking his way.

The man kept the tune.

Arelle continued to sing.

It was haunting, really. The melody soaked into every corner of the house, he was sure. And yet, she pulled him closer, molding his hard lines against her soft curves so that every movement she made dragged against his body. The swish of her gown when she swayed her hips had his own moving to the beat with hers. One of her legs stepped in between his as she moved forward to him, and then back out again for him to come to her.

One of his hands tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck. His other wrapped tightly with hers before he pressed it over the racing beat of his heart. His teeth found her bottom lip and tugged just enough to make her voice hitch in the song.

The closeness, their movements …

All of it was not appropriate for dancing.

More erotic than he knew it should be.

He was certain no servant in this house had ever seen a royal behave the way he currently was, and yet Eryx didn’t care at all.

Of course, someone always had to ruin his fun.