Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I shove my boots aside, trying to understand it all and soak up every word. But when I step on the carpet with my bare feet, I’m instantly distracted. “Is this some kind of… moss?” I ask, pressing on it with my foot.
“Indeed. Do you not like it? I can have it removed,” Kyranis tells me, leaning forward until his elbows rest on his knees. As his dark gaze slides down my body, I wonder what he’s so keen to see.
The moss is different than the one I know from my world. Softer, spongier, and warm. “No, I like it. But back to what’s important.” I approach him, because he did promise to put some of that healing cream on me. “You said I’m your crown. So until you take me as your Dark Companion, you’re not… king? Or Lord? Or some other royal?”
“No, just the crown prince,” he agrees before gesturing at me. “Remove your clothes.”
I still, even though on some deeper level I was expecting this. Is it shady as fuck? Yes. Am I getting a little overheated in his presence? Also yes.
I slide my thumbs under my studded belt with a nervous chuckle. “Save something for after the wedding, Your Highness.”
Kyranis cocks his head. “I’ve waited long enough,” he tells me as a little smile emerges on his lips.
The room was slowly heating up from the hot water, but now there’s more to it. Is it wrong that I’m excited to be the object of such intense interest? This night still feels like a strange dream.
I unbuckle my belt, trying to make it casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way Kyranis watches me. Maybe he just wants to make sure I have no weapons on me? I’ve been subjected to a couple of strip searches in my life, and they were the farthest thing from pleasurable, but maybe he could make it fun?
“I mean, I guess I’ve got a few cuts on my legs too,” I mutter, pushing off my pants.
“We should take care of all your injuries,” Kyranis tells me, rolling the last word on his tongue, as if he were luxuriating in its sound. As he flicks his hand, the tub behind me stops filling. He pops open the first button of his leather top, then the second.
I want to see those moving tattoos again. It’s a thought that overpowers the rational side of my brain, because at the end of the day, he might not be just a guy, but I am. So after a moment of hesitation, I sit on the edge of the bathtub in my boxer briefs and watch him.
At least I don’t feel like he hates me anymore.
“If you can wield your shadow so well, why didn’t you use it to fight the moths?”
Kyranis chuckles, opening his jacket. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’m not all-powerful. My shadow was busy protecting my own body from the thorns as I was trying to reach you.” He rises from the chair, and the leather garments slide off him, I see a pit of snakes trailing over his skin in 2D. There’s too many to count when they’re constantly moving around, creating a strange animated image on the skin of his torso and arms. I can’t take my eyes off one of the creatures as it dips into his pants, but when it disappears and I look up, the smirk on Kyranis’s features tells me he’s noticed me staring.
I can only hope that in the green light, my face appears a bit less red. He’s… unbearably hot.
“What are they?” I catch myself reaching out, and quickly pull back my hand.
Maybe I should take off my underwear, so he can follow my example and show off the goo—No, Luke. Think with your brain.
“They’re eels,” Kyranis says as he approaches me in slow, elegant steps. “Each represents a shadow wielder’s power. Each one stands for victory,” he tells me with pride. “I can use them up if I need to, but they then disappear forever.” He tips my chin up with his knuckles. “Unlike your shadow, which will be mine for as long as you live.”
I swallow. At least that means it’s in his interest to keep me alive. The proximity of his stomach, smooth and hard as if it’s made of marble lovingly chiseled by a talented sculptor. The eels give me an excuse to stare. Though I try to not focus on the golden sun in the middle of Kyranis’s chest, which even the eels seem to avoid as if it were some cursed mark. The tattoo I’m not supposed to ever mention to anyone… for reasons.
While I know I’m lithe like a Siamese cat, which some find attractive, I still feel painfully inadequate, because here he is, Prince Kyranis, Protector something-something, and I still live with my mother. A part of me wants to become useful to him. As if that would elevate me.