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Where he came from, they took pleasure from pain. Four years ago, I’d thought such a thing abhorrent. Now, desire scorched my veins and made my sensitive dick twitch, drawing Lark’s smooth gaze.
By Dallin, if he…
He pressed the dagger into the nest of golden hair, up against the base of my cock. My panicked breaths stuttered again. Was it wrong to like this? It didn’t feel wrong. I didn’t think he’d cut me, not there; he liked it too much to hurt me there.
Lark scooted lower. His smooth chin skimmed my quivering abs, and then he licked at the cooling cum pooled in the hollow of my hips.
I gave up second-guessing him and myself, dropped my head back, gazed at the bed’s golden canopy. His swirling tongue tickled. I chuckled, making him purr. This man… He was insane, he had to be. And I was insane for letting him get so close.
“Hm,” he growled. “Despite appearances, your cum does not taste like honey and sunshine.”
Would he sayanything? Although, I’d been the one to mention tasting cum. I’d told him I’d wanted to taste his. I’d been angry, but I’d definitely said those words.
Yes, I was insane, and getting more insane by the second. But no longer angry. That had vanished when he’d pleasured me, making my skin tingle and heart flutter.
Had he come? Should I reciprocate somehow? That was how this worked, a give and take. I knew the act of sex, but I hadn’t participated, too young, too cloistered, and then I’d removed myself from court. There hadn’t been the opportunity. Only my hand, and dreams of Lark.
He settled against my side, propped his head on a hand, and stroked circles on my chest, just the right side of tickling for it to be soothing.
“You vex me, prince.”
I captured his hand under mine, stopping his stroking, and curled my fingers around his. “The feeling is mutual.”
His hand tightened, squeezing, and he leaned in, whispering in my ear, “Which of us is the villain in this tale?”
If only life were that simple. “Neither. There are no villains, nor are there heroes. Although, you could be one—”
He laughed and dropped his head onto my pillow. “Me, a hero? You jest. And jesting is my role, prince. Next, you will be juggling, although there’s still some way to go there—”
I rolled onto my side, hooked my leg over his, and braced my head on my hand, our positions now switched. His black hair flowed across the white pillow behind him, as dark as spilled ink. He blinked, his smile still on his lips. The shallow humor in his eyes covered a thin veil of softness, and behind that, perhaps a troubled soul.
The traitor’s son.
I knew what that meant. Draven had told me before I’d been forced to silence him.
Lark had escaped the Court of Pain, but they’d discovered him begging for coin in the slums and dragged him back, put him in chains, and called him the traitor’s son. And that was scratching the surface. Draven would have told others. I’d had to stop him, temporarily. The Lord of War would heal. Until then, I’d ensured Lark’s persona remained intact for a little while longer. His court couldn’t know he was compromised or they’d have come for him.
Lark’s actions in my court would both save and condemn me, which explained why I hated how I’d grown to care for him, despite my best efforts not to.
That was my heart’s curse, I supposed. I cared too much, and none of my lies could change that.
“What’s it like?” I blurted. “Where you’re from?”
He studied my face, perhaps wondering why I’d asked, or how much he should say. The Court of Pain… I knew so little of it; they were careful with what knowledge they leaked. King Umair ruled the court, but he’d been absent for years. His son, Razak, ruled in his stead, with the help of a close-knit council.
I’d met Razak, once. Four years ago.
“I don’t like to talk of it, in truth,” Lark said, and it was the truth. He made it difficult to tell, but when he was being honest, he looked away, not into my eyes. “It’s like how describing a nightmare makes it real.”
“Forget I asked.” It didn’t matter anyway. I’d heard enough to know he came from a dreadful place.
“I… No, it’s…” He sighed and let his eyes flutter closed. “The skies are always dark,” he said, softly. “There are no flowers, and every thin smile is full of teeth.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know more. It didn’t seem possible someone who could sing and dance and laugh like him could come from a dire place like that.
His eyes opened and he focused on me. “Do not pity me. It’s not all darkness, although it looks that way from the outside. There’s pleasure to be had. Pleasure is pain’s cousin, after all.” He turned his face away and his smile slipped from his lips. “Stare too long, Arin, and all beauty fades.”
My beautiful lie.I should never have told the maid my thoughts, should have known he’d discover my secret. But beauty couldn’t fade when it came from within, from his heart. As the Prince of Love, I knew hearts, and his wasn’t as poisoned as he believed. No man could bring joy to hundreds of faces, the way he did, if his soul was rotten.
