Prim should be furious with Con, she knew. He’d known exactly what he was doing by offering her those peppers in exchange for his blessing. But that poor man screaming and flapping his wings and running into the crowded tavern naked with his dick flopping around…it was just too fucking funny not to laugh.
And when Con joined in, laughing with her uninhibitedly, throwing his head back to let the deep, booming howls out, any anger she’d had dissipated.
Prim knew why he did it. He was jealous.
Con could pretend it was because he needed to keep an eye on her--being her captor and all--but she knew he could have just held her with his phantom hands and forced her to stay by his side. He chose chaos instead, that burning jealousy in him demanding some burning retribution.
Yet even when he was purposely being an asshole, Con had been kind enough to have that ale ready to go for the fae--what was his name? Maybe he hadn’t given her one.
Of course Con had ale for her, too. He would always take care of her.
Except in the way she had wanted him to last night. Prim had spent the entire day thinking about him. She hadn’t even felt like speaking, too consumed by analyzing every considerate thing he’d ever done for her, every touch they’d shared, the way his chest had looked those couple times she’d seen it bare. The pervasive ache between her thighs was driving her mad. If she hadn’t been in the wilderness with Con always nearby, she might have taken care of it herself. But as it was, she’d decided it didn’t really matter if it was her own fingers or that fae who got her off. Either were just tools, just substitutions for what she really wanted--who she really wanted. So when he invited her to his room, she accepted. But it didn’t mean anything.
Prim wanted Con to know that.
She waited until his laughter faded naturally, not wanting to deny herself a moment of it. “I suppose I should be thanking you. That would have been a mistake.”
Con looked at her hands. They were still slightly reddened, but no longer burned. His face returned to that carefully schooled expression as if the moment of amusement they’d just shared hadn’t happened. “Don’t thank me for what I did. I’m sorry. That was a mistake. I didn’t quite realize how much it would hurt.” He found her eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess,” he said again.
Prim sighed, looking around. “I guess we’re in the cold again tonight, eh?”
Con explained they should put more distance between them and Thiro, just in case her friend had thoughts of revenge. They walked for a couple of hours in the dark until Con pointed out an acceptable resting spot nestled in a shallow cave.
Prim dressed in her layers and laid down on her side. Con immediately curled up behind her under their blanket, wrapping an arm across her ribs. Neither of them had broached the topic of sleeping arrangements beforehand, but Prim was certainly pleased. She laid her own arm atop his, threading her fingers through his. He squeezed his fist shut, trapping her fingertips within it.
She was nearly asleep when Con whispered so close to her ear that tingles spread down her spine and she involuntarily arched back into him.
“Why would it have been a mistake?”
Prim tightened her grip on his hand. “You know why.”
Con’s breath caressed the back of her neck as he stoically said, “You had him stripped naked fast enough.”
“He answered the door naked.” Prim felt Con’s body shake, the tremors passing into her own as he held her. Shuddering breaths issued from his nose told her he was laughing again. “What?”
“Seems like the kind of thing someone spewing those lines would do.” Con’s voice was full of amusement, and Prim liked it nearly as much as when it was low and gravely.
Prim didn’t bother to ask how he had heard the fae’s lame attempt at seduction.
Con’s arm around her ribs tightened. “Why would it have been a mistake, Bear?”
Prim rolled her eyes in the dark. He knew. He just wanted to hear her say it again. “I told you last night. I want you.”
He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his voice was that deep whisper that had Prim biting her lip. “The only thing you know about me is that I hurt people for money.”
Prim released her lip when the words registered, her lust giving way to grief. Surely he didn’t really think that--either about himself or her. “That’s not true. I see who you are in the way you speak and act. Not just to me, but to others, too. Adrina, shopkeepers, barmaids. Letting those two men who found us go.” She wouldn’t mention the third.
“I would have killed them.”
“But you didn’t.” Prim turned around to face him, just as she had last night. She didn’t try to kiss him this time.
Con’s arm had remained on her waist as she twisted around, lazily drooping over it. But now he moved it to brush his knuckles gently down the side of her face. Prim’s heart raced at that touch. It was intimate in a way he’d never been before.
“You don’t even know my name.”
“Then tell me,” she breathed, staying as still as she could. She was afraid any movement would startle him, and she wanted those knuckles to continue stroking her face.
But Con stopped anyway. “I can’t.”
He began lowering his hand, but Prim reached up to hold it in place, pressing his palm against her cheek. “Then don’t. I don’t need to know your real name to know I want you to kiss me. Your name doesn’t change who you are.”
The cave was too dark to see much, but Prim knew Con was studying her. He likely still thought this was some kind of trap. She had to admit that would have made more sense than her genuinely falling for him. But who said feelings or attraction made sense? If they did, she might have run off with Roan when he’d practically suggested it and never even met Con. What a shame that would have been.
“Don’t make me resort to finding another cad who’d answer his door naked to try to get you off my mind,” she purred when Con didn’t respond.
Con laughed. Again. Prim wondered how often he’d wanted to laugh with her these past couple weeks and forced himself to hold back. How often he’d wanted to do other things, too. Not just kiss her or touch her, but joke with her, share bits of his life with her. Did he want to tell her his name? Did he want to tell her about Pregg and Zulas’s rider and how he became an assassin?
Or was he really just content to be her captor who just happened to think she was pretty enough to get a little hard when his dick was pressed against her?
Prim suddenly felt self-conscious in a way she never had before. Of course it was the latter. He’s planning on handing her off to potential murderers and rapists without a second thought, for fuck’s sake. She kept forgetting that he wasn’t in on her plan, that he didn’t know she would never be in danger.
She was holding back from him, too. That didn’t mean she didn’t care about him. But Con? Con didn’t really care about her—not when he’s planning on offering her up to Lunin-knows-who. And she’d been throwing herself at him.
Prim released Con’s hand and turned back around, not bothering to snuggle close like she had been. His laughter abruptly stopped, and her heart dropped into her stomach. He was finally letting her see that side of him, and by turning around, she made it seem like she was rejecting it. She didn’t care if he didn’t feel what she felt; she wasn’t going to let him close off that part of him again.
“I like it when you laugh,” she said into the dark, closing her eyes and curling her legs up to sleep.
Con didn’t put his arm back around her or slide closer to her. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” He actually sounded flustered. “I was laughing at that shameless prick thinking he was good enough for you.”
Prim didn’t say anything, though she was amused that Con apparently had standards for who was and was not good enough for her.
Con started chuckling to himself again. “Imagine how much worse he’d have been had he known who you are.”
Right. Con didn’t have standards for her, but for the Princess of Wassalia. That’s all she was to him, after all. His target, the princess.
Not Prim. Never Prim.
“Sleep, Con.”
But he didn’t. He got up, the cold night air stabbing Prim as the blanket ripped away with his movement. She twisted to face him. The shallow cave wasn’t tall enough for Con to stand in, so he was hunched over, extending a hand to Prim that she could barely make out in the dark. “Come with me.”
Cursing herself for being so infatuated with him that she couldn’t say no, Prim raised her hand and allowed Con to pull her up and into him, guiding her out and into the open air. The moon and stars cast enough light that she could finally see him. He was wearing his hair back in that deceivingly small knot, his face once again clean shaven. She hadn’t noticed when he’d found time to do that when they were in Thiro.
“Stand here.” Con guided her a few steps to the left, then twisted her so she was facing away from the moon. She saw him even more clearly now, the moonlight shining directly on that face that was so at odds with the interesting soul beneath it. Con put his large hands on her upper arms, running them up and down as if to warm her up, despite the fact that she was wearing four layers and he only had his thin one.
“What are we doing?”
On the last ascending pass of his hands, they continued up and over her shoulders, landing on her neck. Con stuck one of his thumbs out, pressing it under her chin, gently tilting her head up. “If I’m going to kiss you, I’m going to do it here, not in that tiny, dark cave.”
Prim’s lips parted, her gaze darting between Con’s eyes and mouth. She loved the feel of his hands on her neck, the authority in that thumb aiming her towards him.
But she shook her head, recoiling, and Con dropped his hands immediately. “I don’t need your pity,” Prim said, turning back to the cave.
Con grabbed her wrist, halting her. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Bear. I swear it.”
Prim turned to face him so he could see the forced smile hiding the disappointment she felt. “I know. I just realized how foolish this was. I have no interest in kissing someone who doesn’t care about me. Even what’s-his-name--”
“Lance.”
“Even Lance made it clear he was attracted to me and cared about my satisfaction.” Hearing it, Prim remembered the fae had given her his name--though how Con knew it, she didn’t know.
Con tugged on that wrist he held, pulling Prim closer. His eyes raked over her body in a way she’d only noticed when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. “And I haven’t?”
Prim laughed. “Have you met yourself? You keep everything locked up pretty tightly.”
“You know I think you’re beautiful.”
“According to you, I think everyone thinks I’m beautiful.”
“And you’d be right. Only a fool wouldn’t.” Con kept his grasp on Prim’s wrist, but he moved his other hand to her waist.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Prim narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She didn’t say it teasingly, but accusingly. She really didn’t understand this change in him.
Con smiled. “You realized tonight that it would be foolish for us to kiss? I realized the opposite.” His smile faded. “I shouldn’t have given you the peppers without warning you about them.”
Prim had stopped thinking about the peppers long ago. “So you want to kiss me to assuage your guilt?”
Con shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I didn’t realize how much it was going to hurt.”
“It didn’t hurt that badly.” It really didn’t. Her hands just stung a bit, but the ale cleared it right up.
“Bullshit.” Con’s voice held enough anger that Prim stepped back from him, his hand falling off her waist. He looked away and his voice softened. “I’m sorry, Bear. It made me realize I never want to hurt you. And the smell of what’s-his-name--”
“Lance.”
“I know his fucking name. I didn’t like the smell of him on you. I didn’t like seeing that flopping red cock knowing you’d just been touching it.”
Prim took that step back to him, and Con immediately placed his hand back on her waist. “Are you saying if I hadn't just been touching it, you would have liked it?”
Con’s eyes shot to her face, and the corner of her mouth tugged up. Con smiled back, those breathy chuckles coming out his nose again. “How could I not want to kiss you? Not just because you’re beautiful, but because you say shit like that at a time like this.”
Prim laughed, proud of herself for amusing him. “And what exactly is a time like this?”
Con released her wrist only to wrap his hand around her neck again. And again, he used that thumb to command her attention, to tilt her face up towards him. “The time when I admit that I want you, too. That I’ve been blind about so many things for so long and you’ve opened my eyes. That I can’t ignore the fact that you are an amazing woman and it’s not just your phenomenal ass and tits and thighs that I like, but you. Your manners, your spunk, your humor, your kindness, all of it.”
Prim grinned unabashedly. She knew her wide, toothy smile was likely unattractive and not the soft, seductive smile she ought to be using right now, but she didn’t care. “My manners are what get you going?” She laughed before adding, “You like my body?”
“I love your body.” Con’s hand on her waist squeezed in emphasis, barely perceptible with her several layers separating his hand from her skin beneath.
Prim considered his confession for a moment. “All of this because you made my hands sting a little?”
Con scoffed. “I’d like to think I have a pretty high pain tolerance, and I feel like I’m being decapitated with how badly my neck hurts right now.”
Prim gasped, stepping away. “I touched your neck when you carried me.” She didn’t wait for his confirmation as she ran back to the cave to extract the rest of the ale still in their pack.
Upon her return, she commanded Con to kneel, and he obeyed. She stood behind him, gently pressing his head forward so she could better see his neck. In the moonlight she could make out the angry red splotches. She gasped again. “Take your shirt off.”
“Will you take yours off if I do?” he teased.
“Take it off now, Con.” She would have liked this new, playful side of him had he not been letting his skin fester and burn for hours for no reason. She wasn’t going to apply the ale and drench his one shirt in this cold, so she needed him to focus. When he didn’t move, she bent low to grab the hem of his shirt herself, ripping it over his head.
She didn’t allow herself to admire the rippling muscles of his back, jagged scars peppering his skin just as they did on his front, two identical long and thick ones running just beside either shoulder blade. Instead, Prim immediately poured the ale over his neck, holding her hand under in an attempt to keep it from running down to soak his pants. As she rubbed it in, she felt how hot his skin was. The heat coming off him burned her hands worse than the pepper oil itself had. Gods, he must be miserable.
Con’s shoulders sagged as she finished, the burning skin giving way to freezing skin as the ale and cold night air combined to cool it. Prim stepped back to remove her dress, then his leathers. She used the former to dry him before guiding his arms into the leather shirt that he needed more than she did right now and buttoning it up. He remained kneeling, twisting his head to follow her every movement. She left his leather pants on the ground. He could put those on himself.
“Why didn’t you wash that off when you cleaned my hands?” Prim let the anger she felt at him allowing himself to needlessly suffer fill her voice.
Con rose, towering over her. “You suffered. I should’ve had to, too.”
That was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. Prim shoved Con in his chest--hard--but he didn’t move an inch. She shook her head, turning back to the cave, ready to put this night behind her. She couldn't recall a more emotionally draining day filled with so many highs and lows.
Con caught her wrist again, pulling her back into him. When he moved his hands to her neck this time, he didn’t tilt her head up, but to the side, exposing her ear and neck to him. He bent down to speak directly in her ear, his voice low and dangerous. “I can manage an orgasm. I can make you feel things what’s-his-name couldn’t even imagine.”
Prim sucked in a breath, her eyes fluttering closed. “Lance,” she breathed.
“Lance.” Con chuckled darkly. Then his mouth was on her, slowly kissing her neck just under her ear.
Con kept one hand around her neck, anchoring it at that angle. The other slid down her back. With two of her layers gone, Prim could feel it much more intimately. His hand continued its descent until it was cupping her ass. Then he squeezed and his slow, soft kisses halted as he groaned.
“I’ve been fantasizing about doing that since our first day.” When he lowered his mouth back to her neck, his kisses became wilder as his tongue and teeth joined in.
Prim melted into him, her breathing ragged. “What else have you fantasized about doing to me?”
Con answered with a bite to her neck before pulling away to give a verbal response. “Take your clothes off and you’ll find out.”
Prim wrapped her arms around Con’s back, fisting his shirt. “I want to hear you say it.”
Con breathed that dark laugh again. “Of course you do. With that mouth of yours, I should have known words can please you just as well as my cock can.”
“I should hope not,” she purred.
For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. They only gazed into one another’s eyes, each full of promise and desire. Then Con straightened, and Prim followed his lead as he lowered that hand holding her head in place to wrap it around the base of her neck. Then he dipped his head slowly. “Do you still think it’d be foolish for me to kiss you?”
Of course it was. This whole situation was fucked. But Prim didn’t care.
She didn’t answer. Prim only stretched up to meet him, their mouths finally connecting.
Con’s tongue wasted no time. It was nudging her lips in a request to enter, which Prim obliged. She opened for him and he followed her lead, gentle yet passionate, fulfilling every idea she’d had of how he’d be. His hand on her ass squeezed as it roamed up, down, and across. His tongue caressed her own, their lips moving in perfect rhythm as she writhed against his body, her hands on his back pressing him into her.
She couldn’t get enough of him. He must feel the same, thank Solin, because he didn’t stop. With each passing moment, the kiss became deeper, wilder, more satisfying. She was moaning and sucking his tongue. He was groaning and biting her lip. Then she finally pushed him away, only to undo the buttons of his shirt.
Con shrugged off his leather top, tossing it into the pile of his leather pants and traveling shirt from earlier. Prim was already unbuttoning her own Hogard shirt when he returned his focus to her. “I’ve fantasized about licking you from ass to clit, finding out if you taste as good as you smell.”
Prim threw her head back, whimpering as she bit her lip. Taking deep, shuddering breaths, she righted her head to find him greedily watching as she shrugged off her midnight blue tunic and began unbuttoning her final layer. “I’m not going to taste as good as peaches and honeysuckle after all this traveling, but I hope I don’t disappoint.”
Con stiffened, his eyes flicking to hers. They were wide, not at all those hooded, lust-filled things they’d been a moment ago. “What did you just say?”
Prim breathed an awkward, apologetic laugh. “I might be gross. With all the walking and traveling and everything.” At least her cycle had ended a few days ago and she’d bathed since then.
“No. You mentioned peaches and honeysuckle. Who told you that was your natural scent?” Con’s voice was low and dangerous, but not at all in the sexy, seductive way it had been.
Prim’s hands paused their removal of her traveling shirt. “A friend of mine. A guard.”
“A royal guard has the scenting gift?” Con was staring at her with steel in his eyes and she didn’t understand why.
“I don’t know. I guess. He just mentioned I smell like peaches and honeysuckle once.” Prim reached out a hand, but Con finally moved, recoiling from her. “What’s wrong?”
Con gathered the pile of his clothes and tossed his leathers back to her. “Get dressed.”
He didn’t pull his traveling shirt back on, just stalked back to the cave in a brisk walk. When he emerged, he was stuffing the shirt and their blanket into the pack.
Prim hadn’t moved. He looked her over and growled, “Get dressed. We have to go now.” He bent to grab her dress, depositing that in the bag as well. The jug of ale he left on the ground.
Prim layered her Hogard shirt then Con’s leathers overtop what she still had on. Then she turned to him. He was still bare-chested, holding the bag at his side. He didn’t make to start walking, despite his insistence on having her dress quickly. “What is going on, Con?”
“Is this guard fae?”
“No. Shifter.”
That didn’t seem to ease his mind. “What kind?”
“Leopard.”
Con’s released a breath. That at least made him feel a bit better.
“What is going on?” she pressed, taking a step towards him and grabbing his arm.
Con tightened his features, another internal debate raging. Finally, he cursed, obviously not liking any of his options. “A royal guard with a scenting gift might be able to follow our trail to Sartu. If he talks to the right person, or even just is lucky enough to still be able to smell who you were with--smell the dragon on Adrina--he will go to Pregg. He might be able to scent you on Gordy, on Adrina. It could lead him to my family.”
“Why would he go to Pregg?”
Con scoffed. “How can you know so little about your own kingdom?” Prim didn’t hide the hurt and anger on her face--though knowing about dragon whisperers wasn’t part of her duties--and his voice softened. “The dragons breed in the mountains just to the south of Pregg. Nearly all dragon whisperers live there. A royal guard would know that.” She should know that, he didn’t add.
Prim’s heart dropped. Roan was fast in his leopard form. Not as fast as a fae or bird shifter, but he could still beat them. He could even send his fae underlings ahead of him. They wouldn’t be able to search for her scent, but if someone in Sartu told them they saw a sky blue dragon, they could search for Gordy. “I’m sorry. If I knew, I wouldn’t have--”
“Wouldn’t have what? Let me abduct you? Let me force you onto Gordy? Don’t be ridiculous, Princess.” Con’s tone was vicious, but she knew it wasn’t aimed at her.
“You didn’t force me to do anything,” Prim said, gripping his arm.
Con pulled away. “I’m your fucking captor, Princess. Everything that’s happened since that alley has been forced.” He ran a hand over his head. He was losing control in a whole different way now. “It’s not your fault my parents are dead, and it won’t be your fault if anything happens to…to who I have left. If that guard finds them and hurts them, it’ll be on me.”
Prim wanted to console him, to tell him Roan wouldn’t do that. But she knew it would be a lie.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked instead. By the way he said it, she knew he must have blamed her for their deaths at one time.
When he didn’t answer, she squeezed his arm tighter. “Con, you didn’t force me to do anything.” It was the only consolation she could give him right now.
But she could help in another way. “Con, I can--”
He dragged his eyes to her, cutting her off. “My name is Dante.”
Prim blinked in surprise, swallowing the confession she was about to make. Dante.
“You might as well know as you’re about to find out every other fucking thing I’ve tried to keep from you.” Then he began to change. Not change--shift.
His plain, generic features morphed. Con’s--no, Dante’s--nose retained its overall shape, but got a little bigger and a small bump protruded from the bridge. His eyebrows thickened. His lips plumped. His jaw widened. Three scars took form. One down the right side of his face from temple to jaw, one across the same cheek, the last bisecting his left eyebrow. He was still slightly recognizable from the man she had come to know, but different--like a brother or cousin. This face was unique. Alluring, really. This face was exactly what she would have imagined her Con having.
Then great, membranous wings erupted from behind him. Fae wings. She flicked her eyes to his ears, but they remained rounded.
“What kind of gift is this?” she breathed. She’d never heard of such a thing. Only shifters could shift, and only into their animal form. They couldn't morph their features or sprout fae wings.
“It’s not a gift. This is my true form.”
That made even less sense, but Prim didn’t question him further as Dante handed her the glass eye protector he’d made her before securing their bag over his shoulder and between his wings.
Dante didn’t ask for permission before hooking his arms under her legs and shoulders, hauling Prim into his arms for the second time tonight. But he did before taking off. “Would you rather stay here? That cave could be safe enough. There’s food enough in the bag for a few days.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Prim said defiantly, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He stared at her for a long moment before nodding.
Prim clung to Dante as they shot into the night sky courtesy of his newly revealed wings.