My stammering apology is interrupted by Khrelan’s hands on my waist, and a moment later I’m airborne, lifted in his arms out of the fountain as easily as if I weigh nothing at all.
I’m suddenly painfully aware of how my dress is clinging to me, the fabric weighed down and plastered against my skin from the water. And of course, as if my predicament couldn’t get any more embarrassing—my nipples are hard.
It’s from the cold, I tell myself.
It’s definitely not from the piercing way Khrelan was looking at me a moment ago, his deep blue eyes turning almost gold as he stared at me when I stood up, almost… almost as if he desired me?
No, that’s not possible. I try to shove that wild thought away as he sets me down. What I thought I saw in his eyes was probably a trick of the light streaming in through the windows. And if he was staring at me, it’s far more likely that he was wondering how any person could be so clumsy and graceless as I am, not because of some sudden, overwhelming lust.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, holding me easily in a strong grip, and I can only imagine how those strong arms would feel wrapped around me, pulling me against him as he held me tightly…
A flare of arousal sparks through me at the thought, catching me off-guard.
I gasp, backing up the second my feet hit the stones to try to put some distance between us and get myself under control. But the stones are wet from my fall into the fountain, and the minute I step backward, I instantly almost go back down in a heap, cursing myself in my head for my clumsiness.
At the last second, powerful arms wrap around me. Another flash of heat courses through me, my heart stuttering in my chest as Khrelan grabs me in a last-ditch attempt to keep me from falling again.
But he’s too late.
Clumsiness trumps grace.
This time we both go wildly off-balance, tumbling down to the stones together. I feel him shift, twisting in midair so that he’s the one who falls first, taking the brunt of it and clasping me tightly in his arms as we hit the stone path.
I land atop him, my wet clothes plastering to him now too, soaking the silk of his tunic and trousers as I sprawl gracelessly on top of his body. He feels solid, all of him made up of toned muscle, sleek and hard.
Hard.
Oh, lord.
Hot embarrassment washes over me as I realize what I feel pressed against my thigh through our wet clothes.
The hard, rigid length of his cock.
It’s something I’ve never felt before, but I definitely know what that is.
And then I feel something else. Something inside myself. It simmers low in my belly, like a burning need mixed with a sort of gleeful satisfaction. It seems impossible to believe, but I did this to him.
Me. Clumsy, ordinary, shy me.
Somehow, in the process of falling into his fountain, making a mess of his garden, and then causing him to fall down as well, I’ve somehow managed to turn him on so much that the evidence of it is currently pressing into my upper thigh.
A prince is trapped underneath me, and he’s aroused.
Of all the things that have happened to me since I was stolen from Earth, this somehow feels like the most unbelievable of them all.
I feel like I can’t breathe. My hips move without my meaning for them to, swiveling a little and grinding down against him. I want to feel more of it, more of the heat of his thickness burning through my dress, more of him. The movement makes him groan, his arms tightening around me, and he throbs against my leg, his cock stiffening even more.
Holy shit. The words careen around my head, and I only just barely manage to keep from saying them out aloud. What is happening?
A few minutes ago, he was politely showing me the palace gardens without a single sign of interest outside of what I could explain to him about the human race, and now I’m tangled in his arms on the garden path with only two thin, wet layers of material between our desperately aroused bodies.
And then it hits me.
The mate bond.
This is how Rose described it, and Harper and Autumn as well. They said it comes out of nowhere, hitting you like a ton of bricks, making you want the other person more than you ever thought possible. That it overcomes all your good sense.
Prince Khrelan is my Irisa.
And I’m his.
I freeze atop him, not moving another muscle as I look down into his eyes. They’re almost entirely gold now, turned from that vibrant blue color they were before into something resembling molten metal. They’re beautiful, and I feel like I’m falling into them, like I might drown in the depths of his irises.
Oh, God. Come on, Emma, get ahold of yourself!
Each of us knows what the other has figured out, and we stare at each other in silence for a long moment. I wonder if he can feel my heart hammering against his chest. I’m almost certain that I can feel his. The tension between us thickens, and he doesn’t let go of me, but he also doesn’t make any move to take it further.
I don’t know how to feel. My mind is a jumble, the arousal temporarily dampened by my racing thoughts.
I’ve wanted this for so long, a secret desire that I kept to myself, not wanting to admit to anyone else how much I wished it would happen. Ever since Rose mated with Tordax, I’ve wanted an Irisa of my own.
Now it’s happened—but it’s with Khrelan.
Not only is he a prince, the prince, but he’s nothing like the man I thought my mate would be. Not just his rank, which is so laughably different from me that I can’t imagine how it would ever work, but his attitude. He’s cool, controlled, almost arrogant in his surety that he’s right. He intimidates me so much that I can’t even seem to keep my literal footing around him. I can’t even imagine how that would play out in a more… intimate setting.
No. No way. I can’t be mated to a prince. And definitely not Prince Khrelan. It’s just not possible.
I shift atop him, planning to wriggle out of his arms and get back on my feet. But we’ve been frozen in place for the last several seconds, and that slight movement snaps the tension between us like a knife cutting a taut thread.
Before I can say anything or make another move, his hands are buried in my hair, running through my tangled, wet curls as he drags my mouth down to his, kissing me with a fury and passion that I’ve never experienced before.
It’s not my first kiss… but it might as well be.
No one has ever kissed me like this. I never even knew this kind of kiss existed outside of books or movies.
His lips capture mine as if he’s laying claim to me, branding me with the force of it. His tongue slides across my lower lip and plunges into my mouth when I gasp, taking full advantage. Without even really meaning to, I respond in kind.
My fingers curl into the damp silk of his tunic, grasping handfuls of the fabric as my hips grind unconsciously against his. I return the kiss with the full force of the desire that’s tearing through me, a lust that feels overwhelming and strange, but that I can’t deny. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
He lets go of my hair, grabbing my waist and rolling us both over so that his hard, lean body is above mine. My legs wrap around his waist without thinking, the skirt of my dress plastered to my inner thighs. The throbbing length of his cock presses suddenly between my legs, against the most intimate part of me.
I gasp against his mouth, and now it’s my hands in his hair, running through the thick, short strands, my fingers curling around his horns. I feel his hips jerk, his body shuddering as he grinds against me, his mouth never leaving mine for even a second. And then we’re tumbling over again, him on his back, pulling me astride him. I don’t want to stop kissing him, I never want this to end… because I have a feeling if we stop, we’ll come to our senses.