76: Banehallow Palace

Quincy St. Martin

The amazing rich male scent, the soft comforter, and the warm hard body covering mine feel heavenly, but the incessant sound of the alarm blaring is very annoying.

I groan, telling it to be quiet. So far it’s not working. Stubborn alarm.

I free one arm out from underneath all the weight and try to stretch it to reach the phone on the bedside table to turn it off. No such luck. My arm isn’t long enough.

My mate groans and pulls me firmly back into him.

Why does it have to go off so early though? It’s still dark. The sun isn’t up yet. Stupid alarm. Gosh, the alarm is so stupid…

Wait! Alarm. Holy mackerel! Airport. Russia. Right! We have a plane waiting.

“Caspian!” I pull my arm out again and grasp his shoulder. “Caspian!” I try to shake him. “Wake up! We have to get up.”

“Umm, shhh. Sleep,” he mumbles, burrowing his face further into the hollow of my neck.

My mate is not a morning person. He’s the one who set the alarm last night. Looks like I’m the one who has to wake him up.

“Caspian, wake up!” I try to push his weight off me. It’s like trying to move a boulder. “Caspian!”

He groans, pushes his knee between my legs, and his hand that’s curled around my breast begins to knead. His lips start to pepper kisses along my neck.

“Quincy,” he breathes into my skin before his mouth latches onto it.

That actually feels nice. Ummm, very nice.

My breath hitches. “Caspian,” I gasp.

“What the hell is that noise?” he grumbles, lifting his face up. His hair is all mussed up from sleep, and his strong eyebrows come down in a scowl.

Oh, right, plane, Russia. “It’s the alarm,” I tell him helpfully.

A well-defined arm stretches out to tap the phone screen. The muscles flex deliciously. “Now where were we?” He tilts his head sideways and leans down again.

I put both hands up on his chest before his lips reach mine. “Caspian, we have to get up,” I tell him. “We’re flying to Russia today, remember?”

He stops for a beat before he lets out a tortured moan and lowers his head down on my chest.

“I’m a prince. I should be able to do what I want. I’d rather stay here with you,” he grumbles moodily.

Not a second later, I know his attention has gotten sidetracked when he mumbles, “Goddess, you are beautiful. ~Krasivaya~.” His fingers begin to explore my ribcage.

“Skin so soft, and you smell amazing.” His wet silky tongue sweeps me just underneath my breast. “You taste so good.” Oh, God, this man.

“Caspian, stop. We have to go,” I protest, though I do prefer to stay in bed with him the whole day, like we did the day before. We only went downstairs for food.

“A quickie?” he suggests, lifting up his face just enough to look at me with a raised eyebrow and hopeful expression. His hair is getting long. A few golden locks fall over one eye. He would look almost angelic if not for that naughty gleam in his eyes.

I’m tempted to cave in. “No, we have a plane to catch,” I tell him instead with a regretful sigh.

“No, we don’t. The plane goes whenever I say we go,” he replies.

His face shows the arrogance of a man used to getting what he wants. He’s such a spoiled brat sometimes. He reaches for me again, and I roll away, taking the sheet with me to cover my body, and he frowns. He grabs the end of the sheet, and I let go.

“Even so, we shouldn’t keep others waiting, my lord,” I tell him.

His eyes roam my body, and he orders, “Come back to bed, Quincy.”

I just shake my head. If he touches me again, I know I won’t be able to say no.

He sighs moodily. “See? I’m a prince, but I never get to do what I want,” he mumbles as he gets up. I roll my eyes at how extra he’s being this morning.

He strolls to the bathroom without a stitch on him and without shame. His magnificent body is a dream to watch, beautifully sculpted with all rippling muscles and flawless skin.

I know he’s reluctant to go back to Russia. I know he worries about me.

At times I can feel the heaviness of his burden so clearly, as if it’s my own no matter how much he’s trying to shield me from those feelings.

I worry too. The unknown is a double-edged sword. It terrifies me as much as it excites me.

I also worry about Lady Celeste’s next move. It sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Only when we’re together, the heaviness melts away.

He’s right. We are each other’s ultimate distraction.

The shower starts, and soon, the steam comes rolling in from the open bathroom door.

The sound of the shower running doesn’t fully drown the sound of his voice still grumbling.

I lay back in bed, trying hard not to laugh at his morning grumpiness. Well, he’s extra grumpy today. “Awww, do you need your back scrubbed, baby?” I tease.

His answer is to come striding out of the bathroom, buck-naked and dripping wet. He scoops me up from the bed and carries me into the warm shower with him.