Bride of the Traitor (The Prophecy of Sisters #1) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,34
feel wrong now because I’ve had Sybilla in my bed? Or is it something different? Sybilla is not of this world, and I suddenly wonder if my reactions to her are not genuine. What kind of power does she have over me? What did she bring with her from her world?
I need to see the witches.
Taking a step back from Duraina, I shake my head. “I have a duty to my wife,” I lie.
Duraina smirks. “You have no such duty, Elias. In regards to carnal pleasures, you are the one man on this earth who can do as you please and as you see fit. We both know this, do not try to deny yourself a taste of me, My King,” she breathes.
Shaking my head, I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair. “Do not make this embarrassing for yourself, Duraina,” I warn.
“I’ll do whatever you like, My King. Consider my body yours to use as you see fit, please just don’t leave me,” she whimpers.
Narrowing my gaze at her, I take another step back. “Is it me, my favor, or my coin that you are grasping for?” I ask, arching a brow toward her.
Duraina’s lips turn up into a grin. “I must admit that I enjoy all of those things equally, Elias.”
Shaking my head, I wonder how I could have ever held even an ounce of affection for this woman, this brazen selfish cow. Not when the sweetest queynte I’ve ever had waits for me in the chamber connected to my own.
“Hopefully you have a wonderful memory,” I announce, turning from her.
“Elias,” she calls out.
With my hand on the door, I turn to look back over my shoulder as I wait for her to speak. She takes a step toward me, pushing her breasts out as her lips purse out even more in an exaggerated pout.
“She is not worthy of your loyalty. She has earned nothing,” she breathes, attempting to sound headier, sexier. It doesn’t work.
Lifting my chin, I look my nose down to this muckspout of a woman. “But you have, is that what you’re telling me?”
“You know that I have,” she whispers.
With a jerk of my head, I continue to look down my nose at her. “You, Duraina, have earned nothing. You’ve spread your legs like a common whore, accepting my coin in favor of my cock’s stroke. Along with others in the village.”
“But she has done more than that? You wed her after a few days, for what reason? She is a stranger, in fact, I hear she is a witch. So, she’s bewitched you then?”
My lips quirk at her words. “Aye, she has bewitched me, but not because she holds any extraordinary powers, she needn’t possess them. The future queen is all-powerful without an ounce of magic and you’d do well to remember that.”
Without another word, I yank the door open and for the first time in my life, I leave a woman’s home, her bed, without an orgasm. Instead, I mount Storm and in the black of night, I make my way back to my castle, back to my bride.
To the world, my foes and my friends, Sybilla is naught but a vessel to carry an heir. To the witches, she is one-fourth of a prophecy that may or may not come to fruition. To me, she is something else entirely and I’m not quite prepared to come to terms with what that is quite yet.
What she will be is my bedmate, she will be my lover behind closed doors, soft and sweet for me. She will be the Queen of Bunafi to the world. She will settle into her place, her role, and together we will have a life.
I will protect my country from the prophecy, staying diligent and keeping Sybilla under guard for the rest of her days. It is the only way to keep my people safe, to protect my lands and the crown.
It is these things that I think of as I push Storm toward my castle, toward home, toward her warm waiting body. I should fight the urge to sink inside of her, no woman should hold the appeal that she does, no woman ever has. Yet, my cock has a mind of its own.
SYBILLA
I open my mouth to scream the instant that I feel the heavy weight on top of me. A hand covers my mouth, a face hovers above mine and only then do I let out a breath. Glittering steel-blue eyes meet mine