NOTE: Updates will now publish for FORBIDDEN PRINCE every Monday (in the US)/Tuesday (elsewhere). There will be a minimum of 2 chapters per week. I apologize that we lost a couple of weeks there, but as I had to complete the writing for KING OF BEASTS, there was no extra time. I hope you enjoyed the five catch up chapters, and I will do my best to make sure you don’t miss a week again! THANK YOU for not giving up on me, Ayleth, and Etan!

*****

ETAN

His entire body vibrated with need, with yearning, with frantic terror that she would disappear from his arms again. When he finally got his hand under her skirt to find her there—already ready for him, he groaned and slid his fingers against that bundle of nerves.

Ayleth jolted and groaned as well, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she arched to bring herself harder against him.

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"Etan!" her voice was high, a plea. It called to him, tugged at him. And he stroked her again.

"Fuck… Ayleth."

"Please!"

He took her mouth—deep and probing with his tongue, but a hair slower. If they were going to do this… he couldn’t do this. There was danger outside. But this might be his last chance. He needed her with an ache that was physical. It landed in his chest like a spear between his ribs.

He stroked her again, finding that rhythm that made her arch and keen. She tried to stifle it, biting her lip, then dropping her forehead against his shoulder. But tiny bursts of breath and whimpers broke from her, quick and short.

He urged her to lift her knee, to hook it over his hip, opening her to him. And when she did, he was so overwhelmed by the warmth of her, he yearned to feast on her, to plunge into her, to take her and the world behind them be damned.

He was shaking with it. Then, his body quivering as he fought himself for restraint.

Then she put her hands to his belt and began to tug, kissing his neck.

Etan leaned his free hand on the wall behind her and gave a guttural moan as she stroked him through his trousers, then tugged the belt again, so it clinked and fell loose.

Her hands scrabbled at him, opening the leather so it slapped against his thigh, then she was at his buttons, her small fingers trembling, but making short work of—

The door rattled, and they both froze.

What the fuck was he thinking?!

He dropped Ayleth like she was on fire, scrambling to rebutton his trousers, despite his aching arousal, punishing himself by forcing it down into his pants and buttoning his jacket to hide the bulge.

Ayleth took a breath and he held up a hand. They didn’t know who was outside.

One hand on the hilt of his sword, the other back to keep Ayleth behind him, he took the step to bring himself level with the holes in the door to peer through.

Then he relaxed.

"What’s going on, Falek?" he muttered quietly.

"It was only the sorcerers playing tricks to entertain the Lords and Ladies. They made a morbid and caused some panic. But the Courts are settling now. Ayleth is needed. She is being missed."

Etan hesitated, listening. Sure enough, he was met with the babbling of too-loud laughter, and the nervous hubbub of voices, speaking too quickly, too loudly, still simmering with the after-effects of fear and thrill.

"One moment," he said softly.

Falek grunted, but didn’t speak.

Etan turned to find Ayleth at his back, her face pained, forehead lined with worry and grief. "Etan…"

"Nothing has changed, Ayleth," he whispered. "You are the love of my life. But I have to protect my Kingdom until we are under the guard of the Peace Accord."

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She nodded slowly, but her eyes never left his. "One more day," she whispered.

Etan, his heart breaking at the hope and fear in her eyes—that shone because of the darkness and the pinches of bright light behind him—took her face in his hands and took her mouth again, more gently this time, though his cock twitched like an animal in his pocket.

He branded every sensation, every scent, every slide of her tongue on his memory, searing it in, pouring himself into her in a kiss that stole his breath—and hers.

He held her to him, making love to her mouth, pleading with her soul to hear him and know and be utterly certain of his love for her.

And underneath it all, the drums of mourning beat to the rhythm of his heart.

How would he go on when she was broken?

How would he make it through the following day?

"Ayleth, are you well?" Falek ground out, his voice louder this time. There must be people in the hall. "Perhaps we should take you to your chambers?"

Ayleth pulled back, her small hands on his neck, her fingers prickling the skin at his nape.

"I love you," she whispered. "One more day."

"You own me, Ayleth. You always will. No matter what."

She nodded, her eyes silvered now with welling tears. He shushed her and held her, kissing them away, then taking her mouth gently one more time.

By wordless agreement, he turned her, placing himself behind so she was closer to the door. Then one more soft kiss and stroke of her hair. He made certain her skirt was flat to the floor, then he raised his head and stared into her eyes, now dark with the light behind them.

"Tomorrow," she breathed as a promise.

"Ayleth!" Falek snapped from the hallway.

"I’m coming!" she bit back. Etan sensed she wished to stamp her foot. But she closed her eyes for one moment, her hand on the v of skin now visible at the top of his shirt. "I love you, Etan."

"I love you, Ayleth."

"Make sure and button your shirt before you come out," she said. It should have been dry, humorous. But it was a dire warning. Etan nodded and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

He jolted then, as Ayleth sent a bolt of love through the bond. One of his hands went to his chest as if he’d had a blow.

"Are you alright?" she asked hurriedly.

"Yes, I only… I only wish—"

"Ayleth," Falek hissed. "You must come now! Your parents are beginning to look for you!"

Ayleth pressed up on her tip toes, pressed her lips to his, stroked the back of his head, then dropped and turned, unlocking the door and stepping out as if she’d been doing nothing more interesting than visiting the privvy.

Falek shot a glowering look at Etan through the gap in the door, then closed it. Hard.

Etan shot the lock home, then dropped to sit on the wooden bench, his head in his hands.

**** Privilege Warning ****

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