The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 22 : Brazen

Anaxiphilla • [ann-ax-a-fill-e-ah]
The act of falling in love with the wrong person.

🖤

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The more I want to tell him to stop, to say that this isn't right, the more I fall deeper into his kiss. At first, Samuel's lips are rough and eager with a craving, as though he's been starving his whole damn life from this. But then it slowly turns soft and gentle, as if every single agonizing second of our lives are converging into this one feeling.

My hands unconsciously go to his jaw, wanting to pull his lips away to give us a moment to comprehend the severity of his decision, and for me to especially fathom how we were brought to discover these new emotions.

Stupid and reckless—that's what this is. This was the last thing I wanted to happen, but it's also the first thing I've denied I've been craving for this past week. I'd call myself insane right now if it wasn't for the aching feeling in my heart.

I'm beginning to realize that it was created as a result of my situation and being confined to this goddamn house—but the problem is that the only person that can fix this kind of heartache is him. Because I don't have any other choice. I've learned more than once that going against the rules leads to nothing but severe consequences around here.

My cheeks are still wet with tears, the intensity of our argument lingering within my head. He now stands in between my legs that hang off the edge of the counter. His hands reach for mine that attempt to pull his face away.

Our kissing finally ceases, giving us both a moment to catch our breaths. Samuel's forehead leans against my own as he holds my small bony wrists in his warm hands. His touch is a reminder that I haven't eaten much this week with him being gone all the time. As if the lack of his presence made me feel defeated and sick of trying.

What's wrong with you? Why are you letting him in? Why are you letting him do this? Too many questions I dare to ask myself but push away. The feeling of his lips not on mine makes me hesitate for a moment with my thoughts.

I shake my head. "You can't..." I can't bring my eyes to look at him. It hurts too much to even feel his skin against my own. "You don't get to just kiss me instead of telling me the truth."

Samuel's thumbs trace circles around on the back of my hands, causing a wave of shivers to run up me. "There are things that you're better off not knowing right now, Anastasia," he says gently.

"So what good does kissing me do then?" I murmur. My heart races with every circle he draws on my skin.

When he finally releases my wrists, one of his hands travels to my chin and the other supports his weight as he sets it next to my thigh and leans closer. I don't pull away or even push him back—I allow his lips to come mere centimeters away from mine as he gently lifts my face so I can meet his gaze.

His eyes swarm with lust and sorrow all at once. It scares me at first, but somewhere within my broken soul, I seem to understand his pain and desire. His irises swirl with that dark blue hue against their natural icy one. I've always wanted to ask him why they do that—why they're doing it now.

Don't lie to me. Don't hide the truth.

Maybe he's fighting against himself and his own logic right now, just as I am. We both realize this is wrong on so many levels, but resisting these feelings hurts more than the judgment that will come with them. He releases his grip on my chin to set his hand next to my other thigh.

"You're going to ignore how much you missed my presence for the past week?" he breathes against my lips. I catch him glancing down at them for a moment and it makes my heart stutter.