Princes of Castaldini

All the way, people ran beside their cart, deluging Leandro with questions about the time since they’d last seen him.

Everybody in town knew Leandro, clearly loved and respected him. And missed him. The excitement of the situation soon turned to poignancy as she watched the reunion between the people and their estranged lord.

They were offered the use of every home, the food on every table. Leandro, unwilling to turn anybody’s generosity down, arranged for offerings to be taken back to the castle.

It was deep night by the time the townspeople let them go, and then only after Leandro promised they’d return in two weeks to celebrate the Merraba Feast.

By the time Leandro walked her to her room, all she wanted was to drag him inside and just end the torment. At the twelve-foot door that had survived eight centuries, he loomed over her for a heart-stopping moment. Then he lifted her in silence, plastered her against the door, opened her body around his bulk and took her lips, drank her, drained her, ground her between his unstoppable power and the immovable door until there was nothing left of her.

Then he let her down, stood back, vibrating. She saw his fantasies, imagined each dig of fingers and nip of teeth and flay of breath as he hauled her over his shoulder, stormed into her room, flung her on her bed and ravished her.

With an explosive oath, he turned and strode through the arches of the vast corridor until darkness claimed him.

She didn’t run after him. Something she couldn’t—didn’t want to—define overpowered even the mind-numbing hunger.

She stumbled through her door, fell onto her bed fully clothed and prayed for sleep.