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42. Mithridatism

Auteur: Priyal Dessai
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2024-05-23 00:30:10
[MAGNUS]

“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes.

All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice.

She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands.

The corners of my vision blur a little more.

“Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away
Priyal Dessai

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  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   158. Legacy of Bastards

    [ELARA]What does this mean for his claim on the throne? The thought strikes so sharply, it suffocates me momentarily, making me breathless. All these months of scheming, of planning, of preparation, and gathering allies. Of charming men and women alike. Of building an army against Eldric. If he were to find out the truth…If at all, there’s any truth to this. I draw in a sharp breath, urging myself to come up with something, anything to comfort Magnus, to tell him we’ll find out, or that it doesn’t matter, or whatever it is he needs right now. But before I can, we hear footsteps.Prince Rasmus strides in, radiant in emerald and gold, immediately commanding attention with his presence. And behind him is his bride. Princess Daphne Elspeth of Wyvern. Resplendent in scarlet silk and sunlit rubies, her long copper hair tied into a thick braid that rests on her front. A thought flits across my mind, but I don’t know if it’s mine or Magnus’s or both.I once believed Daphne would marry M

  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   157. What Should've Been Enough

    [ELARA]When my eyes open, I find myself curled into Magnus’s side, my cheek nestled against the warm stretch of his bicep. It takes only a heartbeat for the memory to return—and when it does, it’s not a rush or a shock. It’s a quiet, glowing bloom in my chest. Last night. His body against mine. His mouth. His hands. His voice in my ear. His skin against mine. A flush spreads across my body even under the morning chill that creeps in through the tall arch window across the room. But it’s not just the memory of how he touched me that makes me all warm and fuzzy—it’s what it meant. What it changed.Because something’s different now. Not just in my body or my heart. In my mind. There’s another presence there now. Magnus.Our mate bond, fully formed at last, hums low and comforting beneath my thoughts. I feel him. I feel us.I lift my gaze slowly to look at him, careful not to wake him just yet. He’s still fast asleep, face relaxed in the pale morning light. There’s a tiny crease betw

  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   156. Ours, Finally

    [MAGNUS]She’s brave. Braver than I’ll ever be.Brave for putting my head in her lap when I needed to feel something other than the chaos and fear that flooded my heart. For brushing her fingers through my hair like I’m someone worth touching. And for kissing me, like she knew that it was exactly the thing I was silently begging for. And I’m a drunk enough that my heart feels easy. Just enough that I can let this happen without falling apart too soon. Because if I were sober, I’d be gone the moment she looked at me like that. I’d be on my knees the second she whispered my name.We tried this once—we attempted to strip the layers down and reach for each other with no shields, no weapons between us. That night ended in a Familiar’s scream. In the kind of terror that makes you never want to need again.But tonight… she doesn't run. And neither do I.I sit up slowly, fingers still tangled in the blanket between us, and she doesn’t pull away when I reach for her. Her mouth is parted sligh

  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   155. Something Between The Last Line and The Kiss

    [ELARA]The ink on the parchment has long dried, and although some words are smudged, Lady Brook’s handwriting remains neatly scrawled on it. I didn’t see her again after she stepped out of the bathing chamber. When I asked Mala, she shrugged and said Lady Brook had found a Qaivenien lady to annoy. I did not ask for more details. Instead, I climbed onto the wide sill of the arched window, curling my knees to my chest. From here, the town looks like a toy kingdom. The closer buildings are neat and square, golden-lit windows blinking through the haze. But the farther ones—those barely visible clusters in the dark—they look like ants. No sign of the dense woods. Just a few sparse trees scattered like thoughts someone forgot to finish.I stayed there a while, forehead pressed to the cool stone. Then I returned to the bed and found the parchment resting neatly atop the folded coverlet. I nibble on a blueberry from the basket as I read, its sweetness staining the inside of my cheek. I tr

  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   154. The Tower of Winds

    [ELARA]The golden-eyed man finally decides to introduce himself as he guides us inside the palace. In his own words—Lord Clarence Dashwood, a friend and most loyal confidant of Prince Rasmus.The eeriness of his gaze has not settled yet entirely, but the palace has more to distract us from it. The courtyard stretches open before us, a temporary dome of cloth strung high above like a painted sky. The fabric ripples faintly with the breeze and depicts sprawling scenes—ships arriving on foreign shores, flames devouring the old and birthing the new, kings kneeling before thrones carved from coral and salt. Qaiven’s history, I suppose. It reminds me of the painted ceiling of the Council Room back in Caelondor. I only ever saw it once. That ceiling with its blank spaces—empty patches of wall waiting to be filled with victories and shame alike. What have they painted over now, I wonder? Since we left.Below the dome, courtiers in sea-colored silks and jewel-toned velvets laugh and raise t

  • Forced to Marry the Wicked Werewolf Prince   153. A City of Smoke and Ambition

    [ELARA]I wait for more, but my heart’s already pounding a little too loud in my chest, my mind racing with thoughts. ‘A storm awaits us in the capital. A familiar one, but stronger this time,’ Lila speaks in a riddle, one I don’t feel inclined to solve at the moment. This was unexpected. How do we even move forward after this?But then I glance at Magnus, and he looks… fairly composed. “Why aren’t you… angry?” I ask, trying to read him through the faint hum of the mate bond. “Or surprised?”“I think I’m still trying to understand how to respond to this,” he says softly. “But mostly, I expected it.”His eyes track the distant dark outline of the waterline. “He needed an heir. And eventually, he was always going to turn to his own seed. We just didn’t think he’d pick a bastard.” A breath. “By naming him… he’s made the lines clear. There’s the exiled prince—me. And there’s the king who rules with iron and ash.”His golden eyes return to my face, gleaming with something fierce. “It c

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