The world had become liquid, a melted dream pooling between silken sheets. The air hung heavy with the scent of desire—ripe, metallic, and darkly floral. Caralee lay trembling, every nerve in her body still crackling from the aftershock of Merrick's mouth upon her. Her thighs were parted, slick and sensitive, her breath ragged, chest rising and falling in shallow waves as though the sea itself lived beneath her skin. She clutched at the bedsheets with one hand and the back of Merrick's neck with the other, fingers tangled in his dark hair, refusing to let him drift too far.
He lay beside her, his breath hot against the top of her head as he exhaled. His arms circled her like iron bands, grounding her to the earth while she floated in the heavens. The power in his body was coiled, waiting. His hunger, a tightly leashed beast, snarled just beneath the surface of his composure.
She whimpered softly, her muscles twitching. Her legs tried to close on instinct, too sensitive, but his hands—firm, reverent—kept her open, kept her trembling, as if his worship was not yet complete. When her breathing began to slow and the stars behind her eyelids faded to a gentle throb, he moved. Slowly. Carefully. Deliberately.
Merrick rose to his knees, settling himself between her thighs, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His eyes roamed over her naked form like a starving man drinking in a forbidden feast. She was flushed, hair spilled around her like a blood-red halo, lips parted, damp with gasps. His voice was a rasp when it came, husky with restraint. "You are... divine."
Caralee blinked slowly, as if awakening from a vision. "Merrick…" Her voice was a breath, a prayer.
He leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that stole the air from her lungs. It was not the delicate kiss of a king or a gentleman, but that of a man starved—possessive, consuming. She tasted herself on his lips and shivered, the intimacy of it sending another ache through her already-overwhelmed body.
She could feel it—his arousal pressing against her thigh. Hot, hard, trembling with unspent need. She arched instinctively, her hands gliding down his back, nails lightly grazing the powerful muscles beneath his skin. "Please…" she whispered, not even certain what she was asking for. More. All of him. Everything.
He didn't need to be asked twice.
With a low groan, Merrick positioned himself between her legs, the head of his manhood brushing against her entrance. The contact made them both gasp—her hips bucked and his jaw clenched. He steadied himself, eyes locked to hers, waiting. "Cara, I—if I take you now, I may not be able to stop."
Her eyes, glazed with tears and desire, met his. "Then don't."
And with that, he entered her.
The world vanished.
There was only the sharp, wet slide of him sinking into her heat, stretching her, filling her inch by exquisite inch. She cried out, clutching his shoulders, and he pressed his forehead to hers, gasping her name like a benediction. Every nerve in her body lit up anew, each thrust a new spark, a new rush of sensation that built upon the last. He moved slowly at first, grinding deep, letting her feel every part of him.
But desperation quickly overtook control.
His rhythm intensified. The bed creaked, their bodies collided, slick with sweat and desire. Her fingers clawed at his back, his hips, desperate to pull him deeper, closer, as if she could fuse their bodies into one and never be apart again. His mouth found her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. He worshipped her with lips and tongue, branding her with every touch. She cried out again, a sound torn from her soul, as another climax crested and shattered within her.
He followed, only seconds behind.
With a guttural moan, Merrick buried himself to the hilt and spilled into her, his body convulsing with release. His arms locked around her, anchoring them as they shook, as the world broke and remade itself around them. Time ceased. There was no palace. No politics. No war. Just the sacred silence of two lovers clinging to each other in the aftermath of something ancient and holy.
They collapsed into each other, breathless, trembling. Merrick held her close, his forehead resting against the crook of her neck as his arms pulled her against him like she might disappear. "You undo me," he murmured, voice raw with emotion.
Caralee's hand stroked the back of his head, slow and tender. "You put me back together."
For a time, they said nothing more. The only sounds were their breath and the thrum of energy in their ears. The bed was a tangle of limbs and sheets, their bodies fused by sweat, pleasure, and something deeper—something sacred and unnamed.
Merrick lifted his head, brushing strands of crimson hair from her damp forehead. He looked at her with such intensity that it made her breath hitch all over again.
"You are mine," he said softly, not as a command, but as a vow. "Not because of any ancient contract. Not because of your bloodline. But because I have never known peace until you."
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the weight of his words. She nodded, unable to speak. Instead, she pulled him down into another kiss—this one soft, reverent, filled with gratitude and something frighteningly close to love.
And in the quiet, shadowed warmth of her chambers, two souls—cursed and bound—found sanctuary in each other once more.
They didn't get to enjoy the peace of their lovemaking for long. It was only a while later that dawn was approaching. He has instructed her attendants to return by then. They would undoubtedly be waiting outside when he left the room. Lydia of course, sending him still inside wouldn't dare enter the chamber until her king emerged.
Unwilling to interrupt his lady's opportunity for rest and recuperation, he got dressed and bent down to give Cara one last kiss before departing.
"Your lessons begin tomorrow. I've lined up several tutors to instruct you in various subjects befitting a regent in training." He looked at Cara with a serious look, wanting to convey a certain level of importance with regard to her studies. She was getting a late start to her preparations for coordination.
Typically, an heir of any throne would have spent each and every day of life from the time they were born in study and preparation for their eventual reign. So to say Cara was behind, would be an understatement.
Caralee's expression grew in to one of excitement. She was eager to better occupy her time. The life of a noble lady had thus far, been incredibly boring, if Cara was honest.
"I also want to start your combat training with my personal battle master as soon as possible. I intend to look into finding somebody learned in ancestral magics, although I may have to seek assistance from another domain for that. Until I can find one though, I will instruct them to give you a general understanding of a broad array of weapons." Merrick finished with the ties of his pants and fastened his belt.
While he spun his cloak around overhead, it faned out, landing perfectly across his back and over his shoulders, exactly where it needed to be.
"I am curious to see if your affinity for fencing it purely about the weapon of choice or if it involved any specific ancester. I wonder if the link is limited to any number of skill sets at once or if perhaps the use of any weapon will yield similar results." He smiled with a far away look in his eyes, no doubt fantasizing about his bashful beauty of a princess turning into an absolute monster, blowing over droves of enemies like a tidal wave.
Caralee had a slightly apprehensive look when he finally turned back to face her, which caused Merrick to chuckle. "I guess I am probably getting ahead of myself. I apologize my sweet, I am too pleased to learn of your innate talents and to see them develop within you right before my eyes, it is quite a wonder to behold." He laughed warmly again as he scratched the back of his head. " I will try to rein in my excitement, I mean not to overwhelm or frighten you."
Caralee gave him a week smile in return and shook her head. "No my lord, you honor me with your confidence. I only hope that I am able to rise to the occasion, and do not disappoint." Sitting there fidgeting with her hands as she swallowed hard, forcing a smile and clearly trying to put on a brave face for his sake, Caralee looked so young, so inexperienced. Like a frightened child, just attempting to keep her younger siblings calm in an emergency by pretending to be calm herself.
The thought pained his heart. Perhaps he was asking too much of her too quickly. Expecting too much. He though about how only she was and a lump rose in his throat. Barely eighteen. A child by comparison next to him and his over five hundred years in this earth. He almost felt like he was robbing her of her youth.
Thrusting her into the line of fire for a war that began centuries before her life, asking her to sacrifice everything for a people she did not know, and expecting miracles from her and obedient diligence in the face of the horrors that she would be exposed to soon enough.
Merrick swallowed hard. He forced a smile back on his face before leaving one last kiss on Caralee's forehead and heading out of the room.
Just as he had predicted, Lydia and the maids had been waiting in the hall just outside the chamber. As Merrick closed to door behind him, he bowed slightly to the head maid, and continued down the hall.
Several maids had blushed at the sight of him, handsome and regal, then there were whispers after he was far enough down the hall, giggles following at the meaning behind him leaving the princess's chamber. Lydia scolded her maids and reminded them that it wasn't their place to discuss such things before ordering them in through the door, and back to their duties.