She is the Princess, and he's her guard. A lust that's forbidden.
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Princess Celeste Lawerence is a snotty, rebellious, and vain temptress. At least, that's what the kingdom of Alvera says she is. Landing every one of her personal guards in exile or...
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Celeste Lawrence
"You aren't wearing your ring?"
My mother's prickly voice was a thousand miles away from me, drowned out under the sea of dread as I stared down at all the wedding-related content she had sprawled around the small table. But that made me perk my head up, and my mind grabbed and hauled back to my physical body.
When my gaze connected with her icy one, I still had that lingering glaze of distance in my eyes, "Hm?"
She scoffed, a flem-like noise in the back of her throat reminding me she hated repeating herself, "Your ring, Celeste."
"Right." I looked down at the bare spot on my ring finger, a swelling anger rolling in my stomach. "Why would I wear it when the king is still work-shopping the idea of calling me his bride? Seems a little unsavory, no?"
"Honestly child, how many times do I have to tell you? The king intends to marry you. But not until he deems you ready to stand by his side and perform as wife, mother, and most importantly queen. However long you make that process with your childish antics does not change the result."
I think the anger that was boiling was vomit. My fight died when my fate was thrown back at me. My face felt feverish and pale, and like a wounded puppy, I pursed my lips and stared down at the wedding things.
Something stirred off to the side of me, a song of chinking weapons and heavy boots on the marble I was beginning to know very well.
I followed the black of his uniform pants up his body. It fit him well, you could tell by one glance that this uniform was tailored to fit perfectly around every ridge of his muscles. It wasn't some standard mass-produced uniform issued to the foot soldiers or lower ranks.
My eyes caught the gray of his eyes and suddenly I was in the middle of a hurricane. He was watching my face before I looked at him, and even though that was the entirety of his job there was something heavy in his gaze that made a blossoming warmth pester at my chest regardless.
In the garden, that same intensity was crackling in his eyes, his voice, and his touch. It had me in a frenzy of arousal and need in a way I'd never experienced before. It obliterated the careful walls of my facade and attacked a raw tender part of myself that wanted to submit my power and beg him for the pleasure he seemed to dangle over me. I was used to holding all the power, to being a sort of lewd diety men were weak to.
But back there, with his impressive erection pressing into me, his teasing husky words in my ear, I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him to show me everything. Find out how a man tasted while I inhaled his heady masculine scent.
I snapped my gaze back to a picture of a huge ornate cake in front of me while my mother's pointless words pierced through my thoughts, "All that being said you need to wear your ring to the Cardinal Ball next week."
