Page 47 of Heartbreak Prince

“Syth.” His tone is pained, taut with the ache of need. If he stroked himself in the bath, it certainly wasn’t enough, because judging by the bulge in his pants, he’s hard again.

“Do you want to fuck me, Your Highness?” I ask softly.

He runs a shaking hand through his hair. “You’re the one who said we wouldn’t do this.”

“Right.” I purse my lips. “I suppose I forgot.”

“I suppose you’re drunk.”

“Only a little.”

“Drunk enough to remove the obstacles that you would normally place in your own path. I won’t take you like that. You should eat something and then go to sleep.”

“I should undress first. Will you help me?”

I hear myself say it, in a playful tone that I scarcely believe is mine. Vawn turns and gives me a look that nearly strikes me sober. Beneath the dark slashes of his brows and the black fringe of his lashes, his icy eyes are those of a wolf, feral and ravenous.

“No, Forsythia.” His use of my full name sends a chill up my spine. “No, I will not.”

“Fine.” I sit up and make my way to the wash basin, cleaning my fingers before I unbuckle my belts and unlace my boots. I untie the halter string of the brown dress and take that off too, draping it over a chair. Then I start unhooking my bustier.

“Don’t.” Not a plea. A dark warning from the throat of the wolf.

If I tempt him any further, he will have me, and we will both regret it.

10

Before I can undo the second hook of my bustier, someone knocks on the door. “Dinner service.”

I snatch up my dress and hold it in front of me while Vawn yanks open the door, grabs the tray, and kicks the door shut again.

“You’re so rude,” I reprimand him.

“We’ll leave them extra money tomorrow.”

“Money doesn’t erase rudeness.”

“But it helps.” He sets the tray on the other chair in the room. “Eat. You need food to soak up all that wine.”

By the time I’m halfway through my portion of the meal, my senses have mostly returned, and along with them, a wave of shame for how I behaved. I’m not sure how to make it better… how to apologize. I let myself behave completely out of character, and I sacrificed his safety on the altar of my temporary enjoyment. I failed.

I can sense Vawn’s eyes on me. When I look up, he’s chewing thoughtfully, a glint of humor in his expression.

“I can practically smell the self-judgment.” He waves his hand like he’s wafting the aroma of a delectable dish toward his nose. “Essence of guilt. Notes of regret and penitence.”

In spite of myself, I smile a little. His humor eases my inner distress enough for me to speak. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing noteworthy happened, darling. You had a little fun—but as you mentioned, you saw me in the same state, so fair is fair. I’m not hurt, and we didn’t fuck. I didn’t even see the prize jewel.” He winks.

I nearly choke on a bite of potatoes and gravy. “Prize jewel?”

“That’s right. I’ve seen the crowns.” He nods to my breasts. “But not the prize jewel. And you haven’t seen the scepter and the royal baubles.”

This time I burst out laughing. I cover my mouth so as not to spatter him with bits of gravy.

After dinner, we prepare for bed. There’s nothing to do in the room, and if we stay awake, we might end up involving ourselves in an activity that I’ll regret.

Last night I was up frequently, turning over in bed and pacing the room with the lightest steps I could manage so as not to wake the other denizens of the house. I peeked out into the hall occasionally, and I checked the window several times as well.