Page 93 of Stolen Princess

My head falls to his shoulder, and he kisses the top of it.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers, kissing me again.

My heart melts. It’s perfect like this. Heaven really. Is this a boat I want to rock, or are we already a sinking ship? The princess’s family thinks she’s dead, and that’s heartbreaking. I have no clue how I’ll get to the royal family, but I’ll find a way. Maybe I’ll simply show up at their door and knock. Who knows. But I’m not sure I’m fully ready to dive in headfirst. I may need some time to figure it out and sort it through before I meet them.

“Getting hungry?” he asks, his voice soft as it plays in the wind.

“Coffee,” I answer instead.

“Coffee is a must, but it means we’re leaving here.”

And just like that, my heart drops to my stomach, and my stomach drops to my feet. In both a good and a bad way.

“Maybe a bit longer then?”

“Works for me.”

Except this quiet isn’t simple. I can feel the heaviness surrounding us. His mind is going, and though he’s holding me, and it all seems like magic, there’s a poison waiting in the wings.

That’s only proven when he says, “Sven and your mother will be there today.”

I tense, but I already assumed that. I need to face my mother. At some point, that has to happen. But that other guy… “I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“Honestly, I think we put each other there.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you’re a liability to your mother. She either wants you back, but that’s tough since she knows you don’t want to do that or stay locked away anymore, and she knows that you know who you really are. Or she wants you taken care of. And Sven is not only working with her but at this point likely knows either you or I killed his brother.”

“Are you trying to relax me? Because it’s not working.”

He leans in and kisses me, tilting my face up to his and dragging his finger along my cheek. He stares into my eyes, and my belly flutters, and my chest expands.

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against mine.

I smile lightly at the topic change. “Lasagna,” I answer easily. “It takes hours because I make my own pasta, tomato sauce, and béchamel sauce for it. I also make a roasted garlic focaccia when I make lasagna, and that’s my favorite bread ever.”

His stomach grumbles, and it makes me giggle.

“Will you make it for me someday?”

Someday? Shit. It shouldn’t burn, but it does. That’s what the heaviness is. He’s setting me up for the end. The end that comes tonight after the festival and his deal with me is over.

“Sure. Whenever you want,” I say glibly.

His fingers glide through my hair, and he holds the back of my head, pressing our foreheads together. “Your prince husband won’t like that.”

“My prince husband?”

“The one who will swoop in and sweep you off your princess feet.”

I snicker. “Probably not. We won’t tell him you popped my cherry.”

He laughs and kisses me. “Or that I’m better at sex than he is.”

I stare into his beautiful green eyes, doing my best to hold my emotions back. “Definitely can’t tell him that. He wouldn’t like hearing that I think about you while I’m with him.”

He sucks in a rush of air. “Only you and I will know that secret.”