Page 40 of Reaper’s Curse

“I appreciate what you did for me. I truly do, but I don’t want you to get any ideas about…” I slid off the side of the mattress and landed softly on my feet, my gaze sweeping from him to the empty space on the bed I’d vacated. “You know.”

Carnal cravings had awakened within me, and the prince was definitely worth further exploration, but I would hold firm to my task ethics. Despite all that we had shared, experienced together, Winter was off-limits to me.

“Oh, come on, Raven,” he said, his voice husky as he pushed to his knees and followed me to the edge of the bed. Reaching out, he cupped my cheek in the palm of his hand. “The time we spent together was nice. Warm and cozy. It needn’t be anything more, unless you want it to be.” A wicked grin played at his lips. “I am your servant to be used as you please.”

I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes, held back a curt laugh. “Does that line usually work for you?”

“Hmm.” He shrugged then dropped his legs over the side of the bed. “Usually. But then I do have all this going for me.”

He dragged his hands through the air, indicating his upper body.

Indeed, he was well built and beautifully made, hard and soft lines in all the right places, and coloring like a marriage between a pearl and white opal made flesh. He was also the crown prince. All those factors together undoubtedly brought plenty of females to their knees before him.

He dropped his hands onto my hips and dragged me closer between the spread of his legs. “We might have gotten a tad out of control last night, but our clothing stayed on, so that’s saying something.”

Disappointment in myself that such words even had to be spoken while I was on a reaping task deepened my frown. Incredibly unprofessional of me.

But I had felt like I was encased in the icy fires of hell. Not licking my flesh away with flame but turning my skin into an arctic landscape. Morphing my blood into frozen rivers and streams. Converting my muscles into splintered glacial masses.

“My magic was overwhelming you.” He peered up at my disapproving scowl. “I helped wrangle that beast under control. If you so desire, you needn’t think of the night as anything more.”

His gaze dipped, taking in my body caged between his arms.

“Strange thing is…” His tone changed, losing the flirtatious intonation. “Even after the hour or more of extracting my magic from your body, I can still sense a portion coiled within you, and, well…” He wrapped his arms around my back, locking me within his hold. “My impression could be wrong, but…”

I sucked back a deep breath and exhaled quickly. “Just spit it out, Winter. What are you trying to say?”

He rubbed his forehead against my belly, and when I attempted to step back, he held me firmly to him. “No matter how much of my magic I pulled from you, there always seemed to be more. I think…” He kissed my stomach. “I think it’s somehow growing inside of you. Like my magic is dough, and you’re the oven.”

His magic was the dough, and I was the oven.

A reaping bun in the oven! Seriously?

Nice devil of an analogy.

Instead of pushing him away, I should have punched him. Or slammed my fist onto the top of his head.

He acted like I was carrying his baby or something. Which was 100 percent impossible considering all we had not done.

I understood that he might be somewhat protective of his magic, but this…

Ugh. I shivered.

“My lady, are you sure you do not require my assistance?” Neive called from the front room.

The servant had arrived bright and early, before Winter had managed to depart. She had insisted on helping with things I was used to handling on my own, such as drawing a warm bath and setting out my clean clothes. She’d even dried and brushed my freshly washed hair.

According to Winter, both Neive and Lucas were to be at my beck and call while I resided at the palace. I took that to mean they would be keeping a keen eye on my actions and reporting back to his royal pain.

I had yet to meet Lucas, but Neive seemed nice enough. And if both servants were picked by Winter, I imagined Lucas’s personality would be equally comforting. Far more comforting than the silent guards, who did little more than stalk and watch. I couldn’t allow the new servants’ kinder personalities to weaken my personal defenses, though.

“I’m quite fine,” I replied, scribbling my adopted signature, Black Bird, on my reply to Chace.

I’d received his message the day prior. After a wave of the paper, a moment to allow the ink to dry, I deftly rolled the parchment.

At one point in the message, Chace had referred to me as beautiful Black Bird, but I decided to drop that particular adjective because…well…the thought of him referring to me as beautiful was just… I didn’t even know.

I called to Neive in the front room, “I won’t be but a minute more.”