Page 98 of Heartbreak Prince

It’s a cold day, but beautiful: blue sky, puffy white clouds, and the promise of a brilliant sunset. Lady Kaenan recommended that we cross the border while the sun is sinking, so the colors and streaks of light in the sky will better camouflage the glow of the carpet.

We were offered a carriage, but that felt too much like a trap, too easily crushed by a wyvern or set afire by a spell. Despite the carpet’s visibility, he offers speed and freedom of movement that no other form of transportation can match. His unique personality means I can trust him to fly cleverly and evasively while I’m fighting—and if we’re separated, I can summon him.

After an hour’s rest, we continue our journey. The carpet sails over gentle hills, rustic villages, and broad meadows cloaked in snow.

“Nail tech isn’t practiced much in the Grey Province,” Severin says without warning. Perhaps he grew tired of the silence and craves conversation. “There aren’t more than one or two artificient shops up here.”

“Nail sets are too expensive for most of these people, and many of them are still highly suspicious of magic, other than the healing kind,” I reply. “The anti-magic cults are hard at work trying to keep it that way. Trying to prevent progress.”

“Progress,” Vawn muses. “I suppose magic is progress… but it’s also peril.”

“Advancing a civilization into a new age is always perilous,” Severin says. “Humans tend to be resistant to new concepts, particularly things they do not fully understand. Carpets like myself are not common in this region, either. The royal military prefer to use wyverns captured from the peaks of the Red Mountains. But those beasts can be unpredictable, prone to gobbling up sheep, cattle, and children, or even full-grown adults. They are usually deployed near fortresses or along the border wall, rather than in populated areas.”

Vawn casts me a look of mingled humor and horror. “We certainly wouldn’t want our military wyverns munching on the children they’re supposed to protect. One would think such unfortunate errors could be avoided with training. Tell me, Severin, how does one train a wyvern?”

“The process of training a wyvern can be long and complex,” begins the carpet, in the eager tone of a hungry man about to devour a perfectly roasted cut of meat. “First, one must select a wyvern of the proper age and temperament, which requires a foray into the wyverns’ natural habitat...”

His lecture fades into soft background noise, because I’m distracted by Vawn changing his position. Rather than kneeling, he and I are sitting on the carpet this time, almost side by side. He shifts his body, stretching out his legs on either side of me and scooting closer until my ass is nestled between his thighs. If I lean back, I’ll be reclining against his chest.

I twist to look at him, but he simply places a finger on his lips. As Severin continues to expound on wyvern capture techniques and training, Vawn slides one hand underneath my cloak. He rearranges the folds of fabric so I’ll still be protected from the cold, and beneath that shield of thick wool, his fingers wander to the edge of the loose shirt I’m wearing.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, so low that the carpet’s lecture never falters.

The prince strokes upward, over the bandages. His mouth brushes my ear. “I’m checking your wounds. How does this feel?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. And this?” His hand sweeps along the underside of my breast. A quivering warmth flutters between my legs.

“Good,” I breathe.

“How about when I do this?” His fingertips travel across my breast in smooth circles. He keeps his mouth at my ear, his voice barely audible. “You seem to be reacting, just here.” He touches the hardened point of my nipple.

I grab his thigh with my left hand and squeeze, half vindictively, half to ground myself as my arousal soars.

“As your self-appointed physician, I feel obligated to check a few other places to ensure that they are functioning normally,” Vawn breathes. “Do you have any objection?”

I shake my head, leaning back against him as his hand moves down my bandaged belly to the edge of my pants. He loosens the ties one-handed while I wait, taut with anticipation. When his fingers finally wriggle into the heated space between my legs, I almost moan. Feeling the pads of his fingers against my bare pussy is the most exquisite delight.

“The colorful ring patterns on a wyvern’s wings serve a two-fold purpose,” intones the carpet. “Firstly, they enable members of the wyvern pod to recognize each other, even at great distances. Secondly, the colors dazzle prey on the ground, making it slower to flee or hide.”

“Fascinating,” says Vawn coolly. Beneath the layers of my cloak and clothing, in the dark hollow of my underwear, he’s dipping his central finger into my cunt. And he whispers, just for me, “It seems you are a perfectly normal and functional young woman. A most exemplary patient. But let’s test your responses a little further.”

I shake my head, panicking, because if his hand starts vibrating, the carpet will detect it. “No glyphs,” I whisper.

“The tiniest bit of glyph.” He wets his index fingertip inside me, then brushes that finger over my clit. The vibration is delicate, a fraction of what he used on me last time he did this—and I’m reassured that the carpet won’t notice. But my clit certainly does.

Vawn traces slow, miniscule circles over the peak of my pussy with that lightly buzzing finger. It’s a quiet, subtle stimulation, and since it’s so gentle, he can keep it going a long time. My arousal builds like a slow storm, like diaphanous clouds piling up into a glorious thunderhead, and my body releases its moisture onto Vawn’s hand while he continues the delicious torment.

I squeeze his thigh harder, not caring if I hurt him, barely noticing that the carpet has moved into a discussion of wyvern breeding habits and nesting practices. My entire focus is the naughty male hand buried between my legs, and the taunting massage of that one magical finger. The clouds pile up inside me until the storm can’t grow any higher, and with an involuntary surge of my hips, I come against Vawn’s hand.

I try to hold still while it happens, while the thunder of the pleasure rolls through me.

“So fucking wet,” Vawn murmurs in my ear. “I wish I could lick it all up.”

Trying to breathe evenly, I relax against him, while the rainbow haze of the afterglow settles over me.

Only then do I realize that the carpet has stopped talking. He’s dangerously quiet while I fight to get my breathing and heart rate under control.