Vhalla took a breath, leaning against the door for support. His voice was a silken spell that held her in perfect thrall. Vhalla couldn’t be sure she was even breathing. Aldrik’s palm rested on her hip.

“How did it feel, to be called a lady before them?” His hand savored her side before curving around her waist.

“I-I know it’s nothing ...” Vhalla was surprised she could even make something that resembled a sentence.

He had a heavy-lidded look about him, as if he was drunk on her proximity alone. “It is not nothing, my Vhalla.” Aldrik shook his head. “I want you to become engrained in high society. We have no court or functions here for me to present you to the world. But all of those men and women will return home to the Imperial Court. They will take with them stories of you. I want to make them sing your praises.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“My father needs them. They feed his army, they supply the men and women he uses as soldiers, they own the industry of our land, and they are the figureheads that the Empire thrives upon.” Aldrik rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as his voice became somber. “The more people who look to you, who admire you, the more who will mourn you should something befall you. It would mean an ‘accident’ would raise too many questions.”

“Protection.” Vhalla didn’t know why they were speaking strategy for how to keep her alive beyond the war while pressed against a door, their whole bodies nearly flush against each other. But she didn’t presently have enough mental capacity or want to stop it. The heat of him was beginning to bring a flush to her chest.

“In part.” Aldrik pulled far enough away to gaze into her eyes once more. “I also want to see them bask in your brilliance as I do. I want to see them treat you as their equal, to never question your power and grace.” His mouth was nearly touching hers. Vhalla’s eyes flicked down to watch his lips form the words. “I want them to beg my father to make you a Lady of the Court.”

That stole back her attention. Vhalla stared at him, her heart racing. What was he saying?

Aldrik paused, searching her gold-flecked brown eyes with his dark irises, so dilated that she could see beyond the blackness to the fire that burned within him.

If he didn’t touch her she may go mad, but if he did ...

“If you are a lady, my love, no one will question us.” Time itself halted to hear the crown prince’s impassioned utterance.

Vhalla couldn’t handle the tension any longer. Her hands sprang to life, gripping his shoulders and half pulling herself up to him.

He met her kiss with near-painful vigor, as if he intended to devour her whole. It was the crescendo of the orchestration they had been crafting for over a year. He twisted his head, sucking and nibbling on her bottom lip in such a way that almost made her knees give out. Vhalla fought for stability in the euphoria-induced vertigo and used his body to ground her.

Aldrik spoke and sealed his words with kisses, “I will place you by my side, Vhalla. I will shower you with every trimming that the world has so woefully denied I give to you thus far.” Her head was pressed against the door as his eager tongue rubbed against hers before he pulled away again. “You will be a paragon for the world to see. The future Emperor’s guiding sun. A goddess among woman, a lady, an idol ...”

Vhalla’s breathing was uneven, hitching at his words and his movements. She clawed in desperation at his clothes. A groan of frustration resonating from her throat was quickly swallowed by his mouth.

There should have been little surprise for Vhalla, but as his hand shifted to the back of her head, she was truly shocked at how badly she wanted him. She had never felt desire before, Vhalla was forced to admit. This was beyond the play or curiosities she had engaged in the past. This was a want that had taken root deep within her. A need that would only be satiated by one thing and would continue to multiply until it was had.

“Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me?” he asked, his voice deepening with every breath.

“Difficult?” Vhalla’s lips were swollen from their heated kisses and his eager nipping.

“Being near you is more than difficult.” A hand drifted from her thigh upward, long fingers working their way under the hem of her shirt. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed, the feeling of his skin on her bare flesh sending lightning through her. “Agonizing, suffocating, overwhelming, oppressive.”

“Then let me ease your pains,” she replied as she ran her palms up over his chest, savoring the curves of his lean shape.

Neither the prince nor the Windwalker was thinking of anything other than the overwhelming need for the other. As they approached the bed, Vhalla’s mind was overtaken by the raging fire of something she had no hope of extinguishing now. It had consumed her too perfectly.

Her head hit the pillow in a daze as his warmth surrounded her from above. Aldrik’s lips did not return to hers, and she gasped softly as he kissed under her chin and down her neck.

“I want to mark every inch of you as mine,” his voice rumbled across her like low thunder, gooseflesh rising in its wake. There was a predatory growl that punctuated his decision—an animal on the hunt, about to gorge himself on the savory heat building between them.

Vhalla sighed softly, tilting her head to expose more neck for his waiting lips. “Aldrik ...” she pleaded as his mouth reached her collarbone.

“My lady.” A kiss. “My love.” Aldrik whispered over her skin between heavy lips.

Vhalla’s hand found its way into his hair, shamelessly tousling it as she grabbed. He was always the paragon of perfection. The imperial crown prince, buttoned and shined into an untouchable idol. She wanted to wipe it all away. She wanted to have the man beneath. Vhalla wanted to bring out the rough edges of her prince and rub herself against them until they fit hers flawlessly. She wanted to make him hers.

His hands were all over her, as though he was molding and shaping her form from clay. Vhalla pressed her eyes closed, giving into the new sensations. Every prior experience with men became hazy shadows. Aldrik’s every movement was as much for him as it was for her, and when his hands pulled away, Vhalla couldn’t suppress a groan of surprise and frustration.

“What?” she said, breathless. Had she done something wrong? Her hands hadn’t yet wandered anywhere too forward, at least nowhere his hadn’t been exploring on her.

“You are divine,” Aldrik revered before glancing away ashamed. “And I want you.”

Vhalla swallowed. “Then have me.”

Aldrik tugged away from her groping with a shake of his head. “No, I... You deserve better than this.”

“It is not up to you to decide what I deserve, that’s my choice,” Vhalla observed. “I want you, Aldrik.” Somehow he had the audacity to appear surprised at her confession. “I need you. I love you. You love me. That’s exactly what I deserve.”

Vhalla left the other truths surrounding them unsaid: the fear of her own mortality, of having almost lost him. Any day could be the day this beautiful yet fragile thing they were creating could break. The number of things trying to pull them apart was daunting, which made every heated desire to come together even stronger.

She felt the same way she had at the gala, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Vhalla wouldn’t let him be taken from her, in any capacity, without really knowing him first. She had wanted him for so long without realizing it, and now she had. She was going to be lost if she wasn’t able to use his skin as a roadmap back to sanity.