The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,7

lost her to Wynn’s charm. She could’ve died. And I’d only just learned what it was like to hold someone in my arms again. What it meant, how it felt, to express love and devotion without deadly ramifications.

I’d never lose her again.

A soft hum escaped Leena’s parted lips. “Noc.” She shifted, turning on her side and extending her arm out across the space where I should’ve been. Her fingers curled toward her palm. A silent beckon. I stripped out of my clothes, dropping them to the snowy rug stretching across the hardwood floor. Slowly, I eased myself into bed. The mattress shifted with my added weight, bringing her closer to the middle.

Stifling a yawn, Leena brought her hand to her mouth and opened her eyes. And damn if her gaze didn’t light up at the sight of me. The barest hint of a smile touched her lips, and she tilted her chin my direction. “Hey, there.”

“Anam-cara.” The ancient term used by Charmers, signifying they’d chosen a pair bond. Leena had picked me. After so many years of locking my emotions away, just the thought of that brought warmth to my heart. I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

She snuggled contentedly against my chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Leaning back to give me the full weight of her stare, she pulled her brows into a slight frown at whatever she read on my face. “Long day?”

“The longest.” Securing the dead had taken some time, not to mention the physical strain of actually raising them. I wrapped my arms around her, allowing the weight of my troubles to melt away. For a moment, we simply held each other and took comfort in the silence that stretched between us. The sheets rustled as Leena pressed deeper into my side, resting her head on my chest. Her breath was warm against my skin, and she trailed a light finger down my sternum. I could tell she wanted to ask more, to unearth why my day had been so stressful. But she waited, busying herself with a slow exploration of my body.

Minutes dragged by until she sighed, resting her palm flat against me. “Did something happen?”

I placed my hand over hers. “No, nothing like that.”

She slipped out of my embrace and pushed herself into a sitting position. The movement caused the collar of her shirt to slip down her shoulder, exposing smooth skin. “Then what is it?”

I traced the curve of her neck with a brush of my thumb. “There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

“Like what you mentioned back in Hireath? About your past?”

I stilled. “No. Not that.”

“You can trust me, you know. I want to know everything about you.” She cupped the side of my face, sweeping delicate fingers across the faint crescent-moon scar on my cheekbone. “Like this—where did this come from?”

She always circled back to my past, the part of me I didn’t want her to know. Former lives were better left in the dirt—that was the rule of becoming a Cruor assassin. And aside from Kost, no one knew anything about who I’d been. It was safer to keep my identity buried. Safer, especially, for my incredibly mortal anam-cara.

Back at Hireath, I’d promised her everything, secrets and all. But I’d underestimated how difficult it would be to find the words—the courage—to risk so much.

She leaned in close, her breath soft against the faint mark on my cheek. “Give me this, at least.”

Chills raked my body, and I sat up so I could press my lips to the hollow of her throat. “There’s not much to tell. I was just a boy, sparring with my father.” I nipped at her skin, and she shivered. “He nicked me with the tip of his sword. Mother nearly castrated him on sight.” At the thought of my parents, long dead, a sudden pang tightened my chest. If they were still living, what would they think of their son now?

Leena must not have felt the monstrous weight suddenly caving in the room. “What were they like? Your parents?”

Tensing, I paused with my lips poised just above her collarbone. “They were great.” I dragged my fingers down the soft curve of her hips. When I skirted them closer to her thighs, she arced into my hand.

“Tell me about them.”

“Now?”

She nodded. “I want to know about your past.”

My past. The heavy silver ring on my finger winked up at me in the candlelight, the squared emerald a perfect cage of magic