Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

She heard the shrieking and startled, instinctively grabbing the door to rush out and see what was happening. 

But then she caught herself. Male voices rose in shock and warning, while more women screamed. If one of the Kingdoms was attempting to invade, or take another royal, she was good to be out from under the eyes of the attackers. 

She was also cornered. It would only take a soldier with initiative to find her and she wouldn't be able to fight her way out if there was more than one of them.

Her heart raced and her hands began to shake as the abject terror she'd felt years earlier when the men appeared in her bedchamber were overwhelming, her mind drifting back to that night—no!

No! she shook her head and clenched her fists. She was no longer that helpless, coddled babe that she had been. Thanks to Falek.

Where the shitting hell was Falek?

As the screams peaked in the hall, Ayleth closed her eyes and breathed deeply in an exercise he'd taught her for calm. Again, and a third time she breathed deeply through her nose, then out through her mouth, until she could think clearly again.

Without the protection of Falek or Etan she was better off in the secret passages of the castle. She hated them, dark and dirty as they were. But she hated the idea of falling into enemy hands more.

Setting her jaw, she half crouched and flipped the lock on the door, then eased it open a few inches.

Footsteps pounded both in the curved corridor, coming towards the Banquet Hall, and in the Hall itself. As if many men rushed to fight or free women. 

Swallowing hard, Ayleth peered out. The doors to the Banquet Hall were half a corridor away and open, though she could see only two Lords, standing, open mouthed and staring deeper into the hall itself.

What was going on?

Deciding she had no time to investigate, she pushed the door all the way open and stepped out—just as heavy feet pounded around the curve of the hallway and her mouth dropped open to find Etan racing towards her, his eyes wide and mouth open in a shout of warning.

She darted back into the privvy with a gasp as he reached her at speed, pushing her back into the small, dark space, with a hushed, "Get BACK IN THERE, Ayleth!"

She came up hard against the wall of the privvy, panting as she watched Etan turn, looming in the doorway, peering out as she had a moment earlier. Then he cursed as the door yanked wide again and suddenly Falek was there too, his eyes sharp until they found her, then he seemed to breathe. "Don't. Move," he snapped at her. Then he turned to meet Etan's gaze and growled, "Don't leave her."

"As if I would!" Etan muttered, but Falek turned, his cape swooping behind him and rushed across the corridor to the open door of the Banquet Hall.

Etan cursed again, but tugged the privvy door closed then locked it firmly.

Then he turned to face her.

The only light in the privvy came from the small carved spaces at the top of the door—ventilation of the rather odorous space made to look like a short vine with three leaves. But the light in the corridor was brights, so those small spaces, each smaller than Etan's hand, cast a warm, yellow glow on the side of his face, casting his features into sharp relief as he scanned her with his eyes, cataloguing every inch of her, as if he saw her fully nude. 

"Thank you, Father," he whispered, then in one short step, descended on her like an Avenging Angel, taking her in his arms and pressing her into the wall of the privvy, devouring her mouth, his breath thundering against her cheek.

Ayleth whimpered and clung to him, gripping his shoulders—made wider by the epaulets and trim of his formal jacket—and pressing herself into him with the same desperation he took her.

One of his hands slid to the back of her skull, his fingers splayed in her hair, the other slid to her waist, then her lower back, then down to cup her ass.

He pulled her against him, his tongue invading her mouth as thoroughly as the apparent instigators in the Banquet Hall, pulling her hips against his so that his arousal was unmistakable.

When he dropped his chin to kiss down her neck, Ayleth let her head drop back and gasped, "Etan, where have you been?"

He straightened up with a snap, taking her face in both hands and holding her gaze. 

"Light, I've missed you, Ayleth. I couldn't breathe!" Then he took her mouth again. 

Everything inside her pulled for him. That glowing beacon between them bursting its bonds and suddenly alive again and, as if it cut the knot on her heart—Ayleth's heart raced not just with fear, but relief, desire, and anger, all swirling in her chest in a riot of noise and sensation.

She clung to him, tiny cries in her throat even as her skin prickled and her breathing ratcheted higher and higher.

Her hands trembled as she fought with his buttons, desperate to feel his skin. She sighed with relief when she finally got the top three open and flattened her palms on his chest.

Etan groaned and took her mouth in a kiss so desperate her head thumped against the wall. 

She didn't care.

Then he began to tug at her bodice, pulling at her dress until one of her breasts popped free and with a groan, he dropped his head to take it in his mouth.

"Etan," Ayleth gasped, her entire body shuddering with the cascade of pleasure he was playing on her body. "What's going on? Where have you been? What happened?"

"Shhhhh." He took her mouth again, thumbing her nipple with one shaking hand, as the other began to grip and furl her skirt up, up, up to her waist.

And even though she needed to know, was desperate for answers, her body called for him with even greater need. She gasped his name, frantic, as he plunged a hand under her skirts to find where she ached for him. 

They both groaned. 

***** 

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