His cock hardened, just watching her sleep, feeling the curve of her leg sprawled across him and the even softer press of her breasts into his side.
My wife. The one thing he’d dreamed of—thought impossible—and it happened. She is here, in daylight, and she’s my wife.
The bond…
She was right. They needed to talk.
He’d realized she was his soul mate a long time ago. The feelings he suppressed for her, the way her laugh affected him, all of it told him she was the lost princess he was meant for. But magic and destiny aside, he just liked her.
She got him, in a way that none other in the kingdom ever had.
The bond was accidental. Since he knew what she was, even before she really did, he reveled in the connection to her, even when she was banished back to the other world. But if they completed the bonding, if they allowed their powers to merge…
No king had completed the soul bond in remembered history. It meant a giving up of personal power that few rulers were willing to risk, even with the great benefits of the bond itself. He would willingly bond with her, but she should know more of it before she committed herself to it.
She stirred, wrapping more tightly around him and burying her face in his shoulder. Kayden embraced her. Her scent enclosed him, surrounding him. Inhaling it, he closed his eyes, face deep in her curls.
“Good morning,” she whispered, voice husky from sleep.
Capturing her face, he tried to turn her toward him for a kiss, but Emily shimmied away, ducking into the bathroom. After a few moments, she emerged to blink owlishly at him, awkwardly trying to hide her nudity. “You could at least close your eyes,” she mumbled, peeking from behind the door.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Come back to bed.” Amused at her shyness, he watched her dart from the other room to the bed, trying to shield herself and not managing to hide her breasts as they jiggled when she ran.
Again safe, under the blankets, she peeked at him. “You totally watched me.”
“I did. I like looking at you naked.”
“That’s not awfully dream prince-like behavior.”
“I’m not a dream, sadly. I’m just a real man who really likes to look at you running around naked. If you suddenly had the urge to jump up and down on the bed, I could be convinced to watch that, too.”
She laughed, a free sound, and rolled to her back. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”
“Damn.” He again captured her face and this time she came to him, the kiss searing his urge to make her laugh and making him want to have her scream out his name.
Breaking the kiss, she touched his face, cupping it with one hand. “We need to talk. I remembered who I am. I know things now—”
“You’re right. We need to discuss the bond.”
“The…?” She looked confused.
“The soul mate bond.”
“Hmm,” she rolled onto her belly, tucking her face on her hands. “This is going to be like the rushed marriage, no proposal, and more for-the-kingdom kind of chat, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly.” Giving into the temptation of her flesh, Kayden pushed the blanket aside so he could place a kiss at the base of her spine. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh and her breath sped. She made good points, though. He had a lot to make up for…but for now, their safety depended on him staying his course.
“So…?”
She tried to turn but he held her in place, rubbing his fingers into her back in a massage and continuing to lick and trail kisses on her back. “The soul bond can only happen between soul mates.” Speaking between kisses, he couldn’t tame his fascination with the curve of her neck under her hair. When he kissed her, right behind the earlobe, she shivered. Nibbling the lobe, he moved so he straddled her to have better access to her back. The feel of her ass against his cock didn’t help calm his erection any.
“If we bond, we share our power. We share our thoughts. We become, basically, one soul in two bodies. We retain our independence, but our magic becomes enhanced. If, for instance, you were in trouble, you could call upon not only your own magic, but mine.”
Knowing the rush of her power merging with his, Kayden knew she would understand this part. In their partial bond, they were able to touch each other’s powers, like the brush of fingertips and the rush of it was intoxicating. Her head dropped and she went liquid under him, wriggling a little. “You’re listening, right?” he asked, pinching her ass.
She squeaked. “Yes, I’m listening. I’m also enjoying. Back to the rubbing.”
Obeying her command, since he loved touching her, he stroked his hands down her arms before biting her shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. As I was saying, that is what we get from the bond. But it requires trust. You have to know I won’t drain all of your power and vice versa. It’s about being in tune.”
As his hands tracked down her sides, just grazing the tempting curve of her breasts, she shuddered. “I’m feeling pretty in tune.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “But the full bond, we have to agree to it.”
“How do we do it?”
“We merge magic, like we’ve done before. But we merge during sex and give complete control to each other.”
Her head turned, gaze meeting his over her shoulder. “Is this just an excuse for sex? Because, really, Kayden, you don’t need an excuse. You married me, after all. I’m a sure thing.”
He allowed her to roll over. Meeting her lips, he let his tongue dance with hers, the flavor of the kiss exploding through him and making him forget all about the kingdom for a moment. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having some morning sex. But the bond is more than that.”
She pushed him until he rolled off her and she rose above him. “Well, I vote we do it, if it’s going to give you a measure of comfort. You look tired. I worry. Besides, I also want to have sex.”
He tried to pull her closer and she wiggled her finger at him. “No, princey-poo. My turn to play.”
“I wish you’d find another nickname. Using the one your sister used makes me feel a little dirty.” But then her mouth closed over his nipple and he didn’t care what in the hell she called him.
Just so long as she kept touching him while she did it, he was fine.
Chapter Eighteen
Daphne snuck through the palace, casting spells on all the guards. To get to royal chambers, it seemed, she needed every drop of magic she possessed. But she had a plan and if little Miss Goodie Goodie and the prince were going to live happily ever after, they were going to need her help. Finally, she stood before the door that, on her map, should be Kayden’s.
Breathing out, she slowly opened the door and found the two of them in bed—like it was their honeymoon or something—wrapped up in each other. She stood there for a moment, hidden in shadow, before turning and walking back out.
Maybe Emily didn’t need her. She found her man. She was happy.
And Daphne, like always, was left alone. Growing up, she almost felt an affinity with Princess Pudge. Everyone hated Emily, but no one knew Daphne was there unless they needed something done.
Which is worse—being ignored or hated? But maybe they didn’t have as much in common as Daphne thought. Did Emily really need an older sister who worried about her, when she had the wonderful Kayden to keep her warm? Jealousy. Daphne recognized the curling feeling in her stomach for what it was and owned it.
But there was something she could do that would help Emily and Kayden, whether they needed her or not. Probably this would have been easier if she’d gotten their go-ahead first, but she could do it alone.
Using her map—GPS was to be preferred, to be honest—she found the king’s bedroom and snuck in. The room smelled like autumn leaves and soap. Whatever spells the healers tried on the king, they left no lingering scent to hide the smell of the dying magician. Moving to his bedside, she half wished she had a family, one that cared.
Shoving her uncharacteristic moping thoughts aside, she took the green vial out of her b
ra and popped the top. “Bottoms up, Kingy-poo.”
Pinching his nose, she ensured the king swallowed the fluid and turned.
To find herself at the wrong end of a sword.
“You’ll be hanged for this, South Seas traitor.” The man was hot, if stupid, and she glared back at him.
“Hanged for what, exactly?”
“Poisoning the king. How long have you been filling him with your evil potions, witch?”
Rolling her eyes, Daphne lifted her hands. “Look, you totally have the wrong south seas bitch here, fella.”
“Silence. You’ll be hanged before the sun sets today.”
Another guard moved forward and Daphne considered her options.
“Emily—” she began.
“Silence, witch. We’ll not be disturbing the prince and his bride today. They’ve only just been wed.”
“Fuck.”
****
Backing away from his nipple, Emily dared to trace her hand along her husband’s chest.
My husband.
The newness of the word hadn’t worn off and the thought that all of his lovely male flesh was hers, for the rest of her life, tempted her. She wanted to explore it. When her fingers slipped low enough to trace lightly along his belly, he sucked in a breath and reached for her.
“Nope,” she commanded. “It’s my turn. I want to touch you.”
He lay back, eyes going molten amber. “I can’t complain. I have longed for your hands on my skin.”
She sat up, better able to touch him, and pushed at his shoulder. “I can’t do it with you looking at me. Roll over.”
He complied, laughing at her, but when she copied his earlier move and straddled his body, he went quiet. His breathing sped, pleasing her. He wanted her. It was a powerful feeling, him wanting her.
She dragged her fingertips down, using just a little nail, and he sighed. Tracing the lines of musculature on his back, she kissed and nibbled her way across the broad expanse. He was a beautiful man. Tracing lower, she repeated his kiss on the base of her spine and then touched his ass.
It bunched up beneath her fingertips and she giggled. Sliding lower, to trace the powerful line of his thighs, Emily pushed his legs further apart. Kayden cooperated, only saying, “Still exploring?”
“Yep,” she agreed, and kissed the head of his penis.
He jerked, knuckles going white on the sheets.
Touching his balls, she licked the line of his cock, teasing him, until he rolled and almost toppled her.
“You’re interrupting my exploring—” she began, but he captured her lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth.
The kiss enchanted her more than any spell could hope to. When his hand found her breast, she sighed and struggled to move closer to him.
He pulled her onto his lap, settling her legs around his waist. “Fuck your exploring. I want my wife.”
She couldn’t argue.
The feel of him, between her spread legs, tempting at her hot slit teased her. She wriggled against him and he weighed her breasts in his hands as if he had all the time in the world. She almost believed his control until he met her gaze and she saw the flash of raw need there.
The expression on his face sent a wave of white-hot heat through her, moisture gathering between her legs so that she rubbed harder against him, begging for his touch. Then he squeezed her nipples and she kissed the line of his jaw.
“To bond,” he advised, “We both have to let go, surrender to each other.”
“So surrender. But if you don’t take me soon, I’m going to get cranky.”
He lifted his hips, plunging inside her, and her eyes closed on a moan. He filled her up, almost too full, and soaked into every pore of her being. Control her magic? Yeah, she couldn’t even control her breathing, gasping at the sheer pleasure his body brought hers. His arms held her, steel bands she could depend on, and when he moved, she moved with him.
The dance might be old as time, but sparkled new as their marriage. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she lifted. He arched his hips and plunged deep when she allowed herself to rock back. After a moment, he became frustrated with the little movement allowed him and pushed her back, breaking the contact. She mewled out a complaint.
He soon joined her again, pushing her legs up so he could go deeper, and she cried out his name as the tension inside her arced higher.
She felt the light of her power twirl out of her as she spun off the edgy peak of desire, tumbling in an orgasm so fast and hard it left her digging her nails into his back. And still he pushed, his hands seeming to be everywhere, his mouth teasing her, his cock rocking her higher before she’d had a chance to catch her breath.
His power, an almost green light, shimmered around him, and she licked at it, rubbed it off so it stuck like strands of cotton candy to her fingertips. Laughing, she opened up, letting him in her body, in her gift, in her heart.
His eyes closed and he whispered, “I love you, Emily. I think I’ve always loved you.”
And then he increased his pace, his power rippling off him with each thrust to mate with hers. Where their power touched, gold shimmered or maybe she couldn’t see past the haze of need that left her legs shaking, her heart racing.
Slick with sweat, they raced to the finish. His patience earlier vanished as his eyes closed and his lips sought hers. Meeting his kiss, his tongue echoed the movement of his hips, pressing into her, demanding her answer.
And then it shimmered, and they both seemed to pause for a moment. Gold surrounded them like a cocoon of light and his gaze met hers.
As if by mutual consent, Emily whispered, “I give myself to you,” as he said the same words. If they were part of some ritualistic bonding, no one told her before, but the words needed saying.
Kayden moved again and she shattered, screaming as the orgasm overtook her. He trembled above her, face taut as he joined her in the tumble off the edge. Raising one hand, she stroked his face and he turned his head, kissing her palm.
Then like the snap of a rubber band, she felt him. Like he was still inside her even though he was pulling out gently. He tugged her close to his chest and it was like their hearts beat as one.
She could feel him, in her mind, and pulled him close, there, too.
The gold seemed to settle, as if they inhaled the glitter dancing in the light, and it soaked into them until the room stilled, silver glinting in the sunlight.
“So, we’re bonded?”
Yeah, I think so. His answer rumbled through her head as he nuzzled at her neck.
You’re talking in my head again. It wasn’t a question. He was there.
I haven’t gotten my voice back yet. Woman, I’m not sure how you can speak already. I’m still trying to breathe.
Well, you did do most of the work. Grinning inside, she rubbed his back.
Yeah, well, if you can talk, I need to do a bit more. He bit her shoulder and she laughed, looking at him.
This is better than riding a dragon, she confessed.
His laughter joined hers and she couldn’t imagine anything that could shatter their joy.
Chapter Nineteen
“You can’t just keep me locked up down here.”
The hot, dumb guy who incarcerated Daphne glared at her from across the room. His feet were kicked up on the desk and he looked quite relaxed. “I actually can.”
“Look, if you just go talk to Emily—”
The guy began to hum and shine his sword.
“Who are you, anyway?” She didn’t really expect him to answer. Leaning back on the stone seat, she tried to think of a spell that would get her out of this.
Sadly, most of her magic had been used trying to get to the king. Thinking she’d zapped everyone who would get in her way, she didn’t keep any on reserve. To recharge, so to speak, she needed to sleep. There was no way in hell she was laying her head on this icky wet stone slab. Only exhaustion had made her sit on it.
Shingles? Was that the name of the
thing you could get sitting on stone? Or was it hemorrhoids?
Didn’t matter…she would probably suffer it, whatever the hell it was called, as punishment for her one good deed.
“Callum.” His voice rumbled through the cellblock, making her shiver and hug herself. Something about the guy tripped her trigger. If he weren’t a moron, she’d knock boots with him just for shits and giggles.
“Okay, Callum. Look, if you could just go get Kayden. I just saw him a couple days ago. I’m sure we could sort this all out—”
“I know who you are.” He continued shining the sword, as if he wanted to see his reflection in it or something. “We’ve met.”
She considered. Hot, dumb as a rock, part of the royal court… “Fuck.” The one word summed up her memory.
They’d had some festival or something…
Narcissa couldn’t be bothered with a peasant festival. Like she thought just being around the poor would tarnish her eventual queenly self, or something. Sure, sure, to be queen you needed to rule over the same people she thought she was better than—but let’s be real: they didn’t live in a democracy.
The peasants fascinated Daphne. As a child, she frequently headed into the local town to rub elbows with people who lived simpler—better—lives than those who lived in castles.
They loved each other. They laughed. When someone was sick, the whole neighborhood cared. The idea was foreign to the little ignored princess Daphne once was. At this festival, a fall harvest thing, there’d been dancing.
And Daphne spotted him. Wearing robes as common as everyone else in the village square, the boy caught her eye because he seemed quiet. He watched the revelry rather than being part of it.
Like she did.
When he noticed her and his dark regard turned her way, Daphne waited for him to look away. Everyone always looked away. This guy didn’t. He asked her to dance, leading her in the complicated round, and laughing. He’d gotten her a drink. He asked her to go for a walk.
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