Page 247 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

The tiniest flicker of pain sparks in his dark eyes, compelling me to be honest.

“I want you, Rian, but⁠—”

“No more buts.”

A hand slides behind my neck. The other holds both of my hands to his chest. His rapid heartbeat thrums against my fingertips.

“Allow me to court you, Elara,” he says. “Allow me to prove myself. To prove what I feel for you is genuine. It is not fleeting. It is real. We are real. Please.”

My heart flips. I’ve never heard the Shadow Prince beg for anything.

“You’re the prince,” I remind him, though the protest comes out breathless and far weaker than I intend.

“I am.” His fingers slip from my hands, wind around to my back, and trail slowly down my spine, drawing me flush against him with care. “And you’re mine.”

The possessive words should send alarm racing through me.

But desire flares hot in my core.

My ruined gown brushes against his battle-worn clothes, silk and dirt against leather and shadow. His power curls through my hair like fingers, winding around loose strands as though even his magic cannot resist touching me.

My forehead furrows. “You implied things could work because I’m part Fae, but⁠—”

“I didn’t imply.” His head lowers until only a breath separates us. Warm air ghosts across my lips. “We will work, Elara. I vow it.”

The lingering darkness within me draws tight, desperate, yearning for me to give in.

For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Then restraint snaps.

Our mouths collide in a kiss filled with relief, triumph, and weeks of unbearable tension shattering like glass.

His hand fists in my tattered gown as though he cannot pull me close enough, and I melt into him without hesitation.

This isn’t surrender.

It's a choice.

We both want this.

We want each other.

And after everything, after deals and secrets and wars and corrupt leaders, I’m suddenly certain of one thing:

There’s no sense in wasting the time we’ve been given.

Rian glides my gown’s strap over my shoulder and kisses my collarbone.

I arch my back, leaning into the heady sensations. His arousal presses against me. Moisture gathers between my thighs, and Rian releases another toe-curling groan.

“You’re perfect.” He moves and kisses the other side of my neck, guiding the strap down my other arm. “Utter perfection.”

My top slips down, exposing the thin, lacy corset Thea tied around my rib cage.

Rian’s nostrils flare, and darkness dances in his gaze. “You’re beautiful.”

My hands slide to his arms, then dip down his torso. My fingers find the laces of his trousers.