บททั้งหมดของ Craving Forbidden Pleasures : บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

The market smelled of bread, smoke, and sun-baked clay, but for Elara, it smelled of him. The faint pulse at her wrist throbbed like a secret drum, an echo of the prince’s claim that reached her even through the bustle of mortal life. She tightened her grip on the basket of herbs she carried, telling herself she could manage, that she would not give in to the heat that pulsed between her legs.The first brush came innocently enough—a man elbowing past in the crowded aisle, brushing the side of her arm. Instantly, the bond pulsed like wildfire. A shiver ran up her spine, her cheeks flushed, and a soft, helpless moan escaped her lips before she could stop it. She pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes wide, and the man glanced at her strangely, muttering a quick apology as he moved along.Elara swayed on her feet, head spinning, the market around her dissolving into a haze of sound and movement. The mark on her wrist burned beneath the sleeve of her gown, reminding her that even here, even

The village square bustled under the noon sun, merchants shouting, children darting between stalls, and the air heavy with the scent of bread, spices, and hot iron. Elara moved among them, basket in hand, trying to maintain an air of normalcy. But the moment she stepped onto the cobbled square, the pull of the bond surged, a subtle but unrelenting rhythm beneath her skin. She pressed a hand to her wrist instinctively. The crescent mark glimmered faintly beneath her sleeve, a pulse that seemed to respond to more than just her own nerves. She knew, with a cold thrill, that he was near. She didn’t know how—she only knew the forest had followed her here, that the prince’s presence licked at the edges of her mind, teasing, claiming. “Elara,” a low voice murmured in her ear, warm and intimate, making her shiver violently. She almost dropped the basket. Her head jerked, searching, and there he was—his form shifting like shadow at the edge of the crowd, impossible yet undeniably present. Th

The square was quieter than usual, the midday crowd thinning as the sun climbed high, shadows shortening. But Elara felt the pull of him before she even saw him—an almost imperceptible tug through the bond, a vibration beneath her skin that made her thighs clench and her pulse spike.He emerged from the shade of a nearby archway, effortlessly drawing attention to himself without a word, eyes glimmering with mischief and command. His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, drinking in every tremor of need, every flush of her cheeks, every subtle sway of her hips.“You’ve learned well,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, audible only to her. “But I think it’s time to test your obedience… in public.”Elara’s heart leapt, a mix of dread and anticipation. Her body ached, pulse hammering as she nodded, breath catching. The bond pulsed violently, alive and demanding. Every nerve ending seemed to hum in anticipation, every whisper of wind against her skin magnified by the memory of his tou

The sun hung low over the village, golden light spilling across the cobblestones and market stalls. The square, though bustling, seemed to contract around her, every movement and sound magnified by the pull of the bond that thrummed beneath her skin. She had tried to keep composure, to act ordinary among the villagers, but every step toward the fountain, every glance toward the prince, made her ache more.He was there before she reached the center, leaning casually against the edge of a stall as though he belonged to the mortal world yet not at all. His gaze found her instantly, slow, deliberate, and all-consuming. The crescent mark on her wrist pulsed faintly, alive with his claim, a reminder that he could drive her to the edge anywhere, anytime.“Elara,” he murmured, voice threading through her like silk and fire. “Today… we play with boundaries. Today, you will learn what it means to surrender completely… at the edge of exposure.”Her knees went weak. Her breath caught. The ache in

The market square had returned to ordinary bustle, merchants shouting their wares, children darting between stalls, and the mundane sounds of the village filling the air. Yet for Elara, nothing felt ordinary. Every footstep, every breath, every sound seemed to echo inside her, magnifying the lingering heat, the ache, and the bond that pulsed beneath her skin like a living thing.She had surrendered—completely, utterly—at the edge of public discovery. The memory of the prince pressing her to the fountain, teasing, guiding her to the brink, and allowing the shiver of release to ripple through her body was a wildfire inside her chest, igniting every nerve, every pulse, every fiber of her being.Her cheeks were flushed, heart still hammering, thighs tingling from the memory of his touch. The mark on her wrist throbbed softly, alive and insistent, a reminder that the bond had been reinforced in a way that left her trembling, breathless, and achingly aware of her dependence on him.She walk