Prince Fernando
Stella was no innocent girl. The passion radiating from her entire being as she pressed herself against me threatened to make me do something we’d both regret.
I shouldn’t. My father made it clear I couldn’t have her.
But in this moment, as I flicked my tongue into her mouth and she moaned, I didn’t give a fuck. My prick rose to the occasion, pushing against the constraints of my trousers.
Questions flew out the window as I became drunk with desire.
I pulled her face from me with a pained inhale.
“Stella,” I whispered. “I can’t.”
She drew back, those beautiful blue eyes hooded with confusion as she covered her swollen lips. “Can’t what?”
I exhaled. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
That’s not what I meant to say. You deserve better than this. You deserve proper status as my concubine.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Then don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I asked. Her meaning was clear, but I wanted to hear her say it.
She stepped closer until our noses nearly touched. “Don’t take me out of your head.”
Her gentle plea melted my heart, but I had to cool this or ruin my chance to become king. My father was an unforgiving man, and he might give my crown to Lorenzo out of spite if I sleep with her.
I backed up. “My request to elevate you to my concubine was denied.”
Her features hardened as she repeated the word. “Con-cu-bine?”
“Yes.”
She wiped her lips as though to remove any remnants of our kiss. Why did that upset her? Lower status women were honored to be chosen. Did she not understand it?
“You know what that means?” I asked.
She muttered something in Celestia, spun toward the door and gripped the handle. I jumped across the space to clamp my palm over hers.
“You can’t leave! My father put you under my care, and he will punish us if I allow you to go.”
“Let me stay with Bolin,” she asked, averting her gaze. “I won’t run away.”
Like I would take any chances.
“No. I’m responsible for you now. Not him.”
She jerked to face me. “I’m not your-” she searched for the word before spitting out, “harlot.”
She might as well have slapped me.
I gritted my teeth and growled my next question. “A concubine is not a harlot.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Not the same? How are they different?”
I sighed, running my fingers through my windswept hair. “A harlot is paid for sex work. A concubine is an honored status between high-born men and lower-class women.” I pointed to her, then my sternum. “It’s the closest a woman without a noble or royal blood can be to a prince’s wife.”
Softness returned to her expression, though she still kept her distance. “And if I was noble?” she asked. “Would you marry me instead of this … position?”
“You’d have to be a princess.”
She lowered her head. “In that case, even if my family loved me, we’d be nothing more than friends.”
I wanted to tell her we could be spouses, but she was right. Unless she’d been born among the seven royal families, we had no chance at a relationship beyond friendship, except if the king relented.
She swallowed and met my gaze, a shadow over her features. “My family doesn’t exist. I’m no one. Just a person who fell from the heavens.”
“You’re someone to me. Not a whore. Not a healer. Can’t you see I want you?” I raised my arms, yet tried to keep my voice low.
Her nostrils flared as she replied firmly. “You can’t have me. The king said no.”
I clenched my jaw as an idea took root. “Stay with me, and I’ll make you mine. There must be a way.”
She surveyed me, then walked into me and rested her cheek against my chest. I embraced her.
“Make your words real,” she whispered.
I pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
You’ll be the greatest king ever seen in the seven kingdoms.
“What was that?” I asked, unsure if she’d murmured something or if I was going mad.
“Make it real.” Stella repeated.
Comments