Mirquios backed her slowly toward a shelf, glittering stars falling from her dress as he tangled her into a kiss.
“Perhaps we cansharethe library,” she whispered between kisses, losing control of her breath as he poured over her, her shoulders coming into contact with the hardwood behind her. His tongue brushed against her lower lip as his hand ran over her thigh, pushing the starry lace of her skirts higher and higher.
Mirquios blazed a trail from her lips to her neck, finding the space beneath her ear that earned him a muffled moan, the sound undoing any lingering control he might have held onto.
“Are you sure?”
Mirquios froze against her, peeling his lips away from her neck.
“Do I notfeelsure?” he laughed, pushing his hips into hers, drawing another soft whine from her chest.
“I meant about taking the Lunar throne—about leaving your court.”
“Ah,” he sighed, dropping his hand from her thigh and bringing it to her face. “Of course I’m sure, Lunelle. Think of what we could do together.”
“But who will take the Mercurean throne?”
“No one, that’s the whole point, Lu.” Mirquios placed a kiss on her cheek, returning to his endeavor to get his hands on as much of her bare skin as possible. “We’ll disband it. Luxuros and Maeve can lead them while we work here to do the same.”
Lunelle pulled his mouth back to hers, savoring the taste of him as his teeth grazed her lips. He shoved his hands up her sides, gathering her skirts around her hips and dancing his fingertips along the planes of her thighs.
Gods, he blinded her. Everything in her begged to be claimed by him—to sink under his skin and melt into his veins. She wanted to be the blood circulating through his heart, pulsing with every breath he took against her.
His fingertips grazed the underside of her breasts, teasing as if they had all the time in the world.
His voice was so low she felt it rather than heard it as he mumbled against her.
“I want you out of this dress, but you look so divine, it feels like a sin to remove it.”
Lunelle pushed the straps of her dress down so the corset still hugged her breasts, cupping them together in a way he struggled to pry his eyes from.
“Perhaps you can have it both ways,” she murmured, taking his lips between hers and shoving his hands under her dress. Mirquios buried his mouth into her neck, working his fingers inside of her, drawing a constant string of moans from her throat as she clung to his back.
Her eyes closed as he worked faster, encouraged by the way her breath caught when he leaned forward and ground himself into her thigh.
“Please,” she whispered, her hand pulling at his jacket. “Do not stop, my king.”
“Certainly don’t stop on my account.”
Lunelle gasped as her eyes flew open, Arcas’s scoff from across the library yanking her from the edge of release. Mirquios pulled away from her, grasping her hips as he pushed her skirt back toward the floor.
“May we help you, Arcas?” Mirquios did not turn toward him, still pressed into Lunelle’s side.
He directed his response to Lunelle. “I was only coming to check on you. I imagine tonight has been difficult,” Arcas said. He cleared his throat. “For both of you.” He folded his arms, perched against the bookshelf, his eyes locked on hers and hers alone. “I‘ll come back later,” he said quietly, turning to leave.
Mirquios squeezed Lunelle’s hip, her eyes still stuck on the prince. She glanced toward her king, the man who gave her so much, but was always willing to give her more. He’d said he wanted her to have everything she wanted—and she saw it in his gaze, he meant it. Even if she wanted a certain sullen prince.
“Stay,” she whispered, her heart thundering in her chest at the vulnerability.
Mirquios exhaled beside her, his lips ticking up on a devilish grin.
“What?” The prince’s onyx brows tucked toward one another.
Lunelle slid from Mirquios’s hold on her, patting his shoulder as she looked to him once more for assurance.
“Anything you want, my love,” he said quietly.
She crossed the library, her bare feet padding against the lush rugs, unsure how to communicate what she wanted without spooking Arcas. But, as she drew closer to him, she saw the widened blacks of his eyes—heard the breath catch in his chest.
