by Elise Kova
“Protection.” Vhalla didn’t know why they were speaking strategy for how to keep her alive beyond the war while pressed against a door, their whole bodies nearly flush against each other. But she didn’t presently have enough mental capacity or want to stop it. The heat of him was beginning to bring a flush to her chest.
“In part.” Aldrik pulled far enough away to gaze into her eyes once more. “I also want to see them bask in your brilliance as I do. I want to see them treat you as their equal, to never question your power and grace.” His mouth was nearly touching hers. Vhalla’s eyes flicked down to watch his lips form the words. “I want them to beg my father to make you a Lady of the Court.”
That stole back her attention. Vhalla stared at him, her heart racing. What was he saying?
Aldrik paused, searching her gold-flecked brown eyes with his dark irises, so dilated that she could see beyond the blackness to the fire that burned within him.
If he didn’t touch her she may go mad, but if he did ...
“If you are a lady, my love, no one will question us.” Time itself halted to hear the crown prince’s impassioned utterance.
Vhalla couldn’t handle the tension any longer. Her hands sprang to life, gripping his shoulders and half pulling herself up to him.
He met her kiss with near-painful vigor, as if he intended to devour her whole. It was the crescendo of the orchestration they had been crafting for over a year. He twisted his head, sucking and nibbling on her bottom lip in such a way that almost made her knees give out. Vhalla fought for stability in the euphoria-induced vertigo and used his body to ground her.
Aldrik spoke and sealed his words with kisses, “I will place you by my side, Vhalla. I will shower you with every trimming that the world has so woefully denied I give to you thus far.” Her head was pressed against the door as his eager tongue rubbed against hers before he pulled away again. “You will be a paragon for the world to see. The future Emperor’s guiding sun. A goddess among woman, a lady, an idol ...”
Vhalla’s breathing was uneven, hitching at his words and his movements. She clawed in desperation at his clothes. A groan of frustration resonating from her throat was quickly swallowed by his mouth.
There should have been little surprise for Vhalla, but as his hand shifted to the back of her head, she was truly shocked at how badly she wanted him. She had never felt desire before, Vhalla was forced to admit. This was beyond the play or curiosities she had engaged in the past. This was a want that had taken root deep within her. A need that would only be satiated by one thing and would continue to multiply until it was had.
“Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me?” he asked, his voice deepening with every breath.
“Difficult?” Vhalla’s lips were swollen from their heated kisses and his eager nipping.
“Being near you is more than difficult.” A hand drifted from her thigh upward, long fingers working their way under the hem of her shirt. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed, the feeling of his skin on her bare flesh sending lightning through her. “Agonizing, suffocating, overwhelming, oppressive.”
“Then let me ease your pains,” she replied as she ran her palms up over his chest, savoring the curves of his lean shape.
Neither the prince nor the Windwalker was thinking of anything other than the overwhelming need for the other. As they approached the bed, Vhalla’s mind was overtaken by the raging fire of something she had no hope of extinguishing now. It had consumed her too perfectly.
Her head hit the pillow in a daze as his warmth surrounded her from above. Aldrik’s lips did not return to hers, and she gasped softly as he kissed under her chin and down her neck.
“I want to mark every inch of you as mine,” his voice rumbled across her like low thunder, gooseflesh rising in its wake. There was a predatory growl that punctuated his decision—an animal on the hunt, about to gorge himself on the savory heat building between them.
Vhalla sighed softly, tilting her head to expose more neck for his waiting lips. “Aldrik ...” she pleaded as his mouth reached her collarbone.
“My lady.” A kiss. “My love.” Aldrik whispered over her skin between heavy lips.
Vhalla’s hand found its way into his hair, shamelessly tousling it as she grabbed. He was always the paragon of perfection. The imperial crown prince, buttoned and shined into an untouchable idol. She wanted to wipe it all away. She wanted to have the man beneath. Vhalla wanted to bring out the rough edges of her prince and rub herself against them until they fit hers flawlessly. She wanted to make him hers.
His hands were all over her, as though he was molding and shaping her form from clay. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed, giving into the new sensations. Every prior experience with men became hazy shadows. Aldrik’s every movement was as much for him as it was for her, and when his hands pulled away, Vhalla couldn’t suppress a groan of surprise and frustration.
“What?” she said, breathless. Had she done something wrong? Her hands hadn’t yet wandered anywhere too forward, at least nowhere his hadn’t been exploring on her.
“You are divine,” Aldrik revered before glancing away ashamed. “And I want you.”
Vhalla swallowed. “Then have me.”
Aldrik tugged away from her groping with a shake of his head. “No, I... You deserve better than this.”
“It is not up to you to decide what I deserve, that’s my choice,” Vhalla observed. “I want you, Aldrik.” Somehow he had the audacity to appear surprised at her confession. “I need you. I love you. You love me. That’s exactly what I deserve.”
Vhalla left the other truths surrounding them unsaid: the fear of her own mortality, of having almost lost him. Any day could be the day this beautiful yet fragile thing they were creating could break. The number of things trying to pull them apart was daunting, which made every heated desire to come together even stronger.
She felt the same way she had at the gala, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Vhalla wouldn’t let him be taken from her, in any capacity, without really knowing him first. She had wanted him for so long without realizing it, and now she had. She was going to be lost if she wasn’t able to use his skin as a roadmap back to sanity.
“I don’t want you to be some cheap camp whore on the wrong side of the sheets.” Aldrik’s thumb stroked her cheek.
“Then have me as your lady.” Her soft laughter turned into a cooling sigh as she relented to his protests. “Aldrik, if you don’t truly want—”
Vhalla tasted the kiss he gave in on. She felt the final scrap of his self-control dissolve and his hands were moving once more. They were hasty and desperate to cast aside the last of the physical and mental barriers that separated them.
Everything culminated in stunning intensity. Vhalla was certain the men and women in the other room would hear each piece of clothing that was discarded on the dusty floor, the falling fabric rang so loudly in her ears. He swallowed her every moan and she breathed out his air.
His hasty words, asking once more for her consent were almost lost to the heartbeat in her ears. Vhalla wanted to scream it to him: yes! She wanted to shout to the Gods above that the man in her arms would never be stripped from her again. But a gasp of affirmation was the only noise she could manage.
They were a tangle of limbs, kisses, and magic. It was like the Joining all over again, compounded with the taste of skin and sweat and heat. She lost herself in him, in that place of peaking emotions and sorcery. Vhalla gave into a bliss that was far too sweet to last.
Boneless and spent, Aldrik’s arms curled lazily around her. Her legs snaked with his, and she rested her head on his chest, two forms of unbroken skin. The prince pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Vhalla,” he whispered.
“Aldrik?” she replied softly.
“Are you all right?” His fingers ran thoughtfully though her hair.
She laughed. “How is that even a question? I am beyond wonderful,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, even to
her own ears. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
“Would it scare you if I told you I felt the same?” Aldrik’s voice was a tender whisper, soft as silk. It was a voice she doubted anyone had ever heard before. “Vhalla, Gods, Vhalla.” He sounded frightened, lost, and nervous. She tightened her grip on him and held onto the closeness they had cultivated. “I know I am not supposed to love you. But I do, and nothing will change that fact now.”
It was a pained confession, and his arms tensed. He acted as though his brain fought an internal struggle, a struggle to which his body firmly objected. Vhalla shifted closer to him and took a deep breath. The world was full of the heady smells of him—smoke, sweat, and fire—combined with the tangy notes of sex. It was a scent of their making that carved a satisfied little smile into her lips.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
His throaty laughter was like music. “You are mine.”
“You are mine.” Vhalla was eager to lay claim to the man in her arms.
Aldrik paused, as if bracing himself. But when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing more than a large yawn escaped his lips.
Vhalla giggled softly. “I think you should sleep, my prince.” “Stay with me?”
“Where else would I go?” Vhalla nuzzled closer to him, her eyelids growing heavy.
“I don’t know, but anywhere else would be wrong.” Aldrik’s words grew sluggish with sleep.
Vhalla wasn’t sure if she spoke her agreement or just thought it. But she was too tired to confirm either way as sleep took its hold on her.
She shifted with a yawn. Warm, she thought as she nuzzled her face into him. Her prince was so warm. Underneath the covers, it was like sleeping with a small furnace, and Vhalla wiggled closer against him, her legs still wrapped around his.
“My love.” His voice was thick with sleep.
“Aldrik?” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. The afternoon was turning the slats of the window’s shutter bright orange.
“You are soft.” He nuzzled her hair.
“And you are warm,” she said groggily, her palm caressing him stomach to chest. A low chuckle rumbled through him. Vhalla paused her movements. “Are you ticklish, my prince?” She tilted her head up with a grin.
“Not really.” Aldrik smirked before kissing her lightly. “I simply cannot recall the last time I slept midday.”
“What time is it?” Vhalla yawned, feeling like she’d be perfectly content to sleep the rest of the day and night away in his arms.
“I would love to tell you, but my pocket watch is in my trousers, and I’m not sure where they are at present.” He laughed again. “Would you like me to leave to locate them?”
“Of course not.” She smirked, her hand snaking around to hold him tightly.
“Am I your prisoner, Lady Yarl?” Aldrik grinned. “Quite so!” Vhalla laughed.
“And here I was of the mind to turn you into my prisoner when we returned to the palace.” Aldrik shifted onto his side to face her.
“I suppose that would be allowed, if you kept me places as beautiful as your rose garden,” she mused.
“You only have to ask to receive.” The crown prince leaned in to place a sweet kiss upon her mouth. “I could think of no better way to ignore my succession duties.”
“Succession?” Vhalla moved, tilting her head to look up at him, confused. She’d heard nothing of it.
“It’s rather hush yet.” Aldrik ran his fingers over her temple. “Father told me of it not long after the war started. He plans to step aside.”
“He does?” Her heart began to race. Vhalla had imagined a middle-aged Aldrik ascending the throne, not anything like the man she was presently holding in her arms.
“He said he wanted to show the people a proper succession. That he would be the Emperor of War, working to unite the whole world beneath a single banner. But I would be an Emperor of Peace and rule on his behalf. One man could not be both to the people.” Aldrik’s hand stopped on her cheek. “He said by the time I was thirty, if the wars were finished here and I had fulfilled my obligations, he would want to see me on the throne.”
“Thirty?” She did some quick math in her head. “Six years?” “Five,” he corrected.
“Five?” she questioned.
“Well, I have not consulted at a calendar in over a month, so perhaps six yet.” The corners of his mouth curled up into a grin. “Your ... birthday?” Vhalla’s mind began to grind into action. “Just after the new year.” He gave her a tired smile. “I fear you are with an old man.”
“I didn’t know!” She gasped. “I didn’t prepar—”
His lips silenced hers with a forceful kiss. “You have given me my life, given me your love and your body,” he whispered across her mouth before pulling away. “If I took anything more, I would be grossly selfish.”
“But—”
“No.” Aldrik shook his head, kissing her again.
“But ...” She forced a grin off her lips as his mouth came to hers to prevent her objection. “But.” He kissed her again, faster. “But ...” Vhalla whispered again, and he chuckled lightly, realizing her game.
Aldrik pulled her halfway on top of him as he rolled onto his back. Her palm pressed against his chest for support, and his hand drifted lazily through her hair. The sensation of his skin was still an exotic feeling, one that brought a delicious tingle across her body.
“Will you really be the Emperor?”
“Is that not what being the crown prince means?” The right corner of his mouth curled upward into one of his trademark smirks.
“But, so soon ...” She bit her lip.
“You are not pleased?” he asked, studying her thoughtfully. The prince could read her like a book.
“I am.” Vhalla fussed with a lock of his limp hair up by his shoulder, noting that he’d washed it before meeting the majors. “It’s so ... soon.”
“What is wrong with soon?” Aldrik arched an eyebrow. “Nothing,” she murmured.
“You do not think that word will fool me, do you?” He tightened his grip around her briefly, forcing her to look back at him.
“I’m—” She paused. “I’m trying to focus on the now, over the later.”
“Vhalla,” his voice had a serious severity to it. “Earlier, did you think I was uttering sweet words to seduce you into my bed?” Aldrik studied her reaction. “This is not temporary. Unless ... you wish for it to be?” She shook her head hastily. “Good. You are my lady, and I will see the world knows it. I will place you by my side, I promise.”
Vhalla stared at him in awe. Things had changed between them. Aldrik knew, she saw the glint in his eyes that told her he understood all too well the forces that had pushed her over the edge and into his bed. Her overwhelming adoration for him combined with the sickening worry that every moment could be their last. She knew he understood it because he had similar emotions clouding his eyes.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly against his. He owed her nothing. The pleasure of knowing and loving him was enough.
Aldrik sighed softly, his eyes fluttering open after the kiss. He drew a slow breath, opening his mouth to continue—only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.
Vhalla stiffened in panic. He shook his head, forcing her to trust in whatever he would come up with. The visitor knocked again.
“Brother?” It was Baldair, and they both breathed a sigh of relief in unison. “Brother, the meeting is breaking for dinner. Would you care to join us? Is Vhalla Projecting?”
Aldrik was visibly conflicted. Finally making up his mind, he pulled away from her, scanning the room for his trousers. Vhalla drew the covers up to her ears as he tugged on the pants, returning to a somewhat decent state. His hair, however, was an awful mess, and Vhalla’s eyes fell to his shoulders. She opened her mouth to stop him just as he opened the door a crack.
“Is Father still there?” Aldrik asked. Vhalla’s eyes widened. He clearly expected his state to convey the r
est. There was a long silence.
“Oh, oh. Oh! Oh, Mother!” She heard the cringe in Baldair’s hasty whispers. He paced away from the door before returning. “Gods, Aldrik! Really? Here?”
“Is Father still engaged?” Aldrik repeated, though from his profile in the halfway opened door, Vhalla saw the makings of an arrogant smirk curling his mouth.
She grinned wickedly, feeling like a wild youth.
“I can see her pants on the floor!” Baldair’s hand appeared in the doorframe as he motioned toward the foot of the bed. Vhalla sat, holding the blankets to her chest. That was indeed where they had ended up. “And, you have—Gods, Vhalla, I didn’t know you were rough!”
Vhalla bit her lip, but it couldn’t suppress a small giggle. She looked back to Aldrik and the red lines she had left on the skin of his shoulders. The crown prince smirked proudly, as if they were badges of honor.
“Father?” Aldrik said again, folding his arms over his chest. “Yes! Father is there. Do you still need privacy?” Baldair struggled with the notion.
“Perhaps,” Aldrik mused. Vhalla shifted her legs, wondering if he was serious or simply teasing his brother further. Her face flushed red hot at the implications and his boldness.
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Baldair forced out.
“Blame the woman in my bed.” Aldrik shrugged, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I have little other option!” Baldair said, exasperated.
Aldrik ran a hand through his hair with a chuckle, and Vhalla savored the way his muscles moved, the exposure of his side, how his hair almost stayed in place. She wanted him all over again.
Vhalla swallowed the desire, suppressing it. It didn’t matter what she wanted. They were playing a dangerous game with certain expectations, and they had already taken far too many liberties for the day.
“You should eat,” Vhalla started. Aldrik’s face fell into a disappointed frown. “You’ve been sleeping for almost two weeks, Aldrik. You need real food.”
He pouted like a petulant child. “Come to me tonight?”
“I don’t think that’s ...” Vhalla’s words burned away in the blistering want that his eyes radiated. She nodded. “When everyone is asleep.”