Royals of Ruemri Book I: Betrothal

Chapter 13 - Part 1

"ARE YOU ever going to stop smiling like a fool, Highness? Because I swear, if I catch you smiling one more time while looking at that apple, I will personally stab you with my fork," Risam grumbled as she drank the ale from her cup.

Raffe's smile turned to a scowl, and he glared pointedly at his cousins who were eating their evening meal and were staring at him with amused, inquisitive eyes.

"Oh, hush, Sam," Rihan chided, snickering and not really bothered when Raffe's scowl turned to him. "Raffe finally got his hands on his pretty faie, let him enjoy it."

Raffe rolled his eyes.

"We're going to be stuck here in a while. Let's just hope he's not going to be sexually frus—"

"Finish that sentence, Jadel, and I won't hesitate to castrate you with my hands," Raffe retorted, but his incorrigible cousin threw his head back and laughed wickedly.

"I'm right, then, aren't I?" he asked, calming down after Raffe threw a pebble at him. "You are already frustrated."

"Shut your blasted mouth."

Raffe ignored them when the fools started laughing again at his predicament.

He was lost in thought during their travels these past days. He hadn't even realized he was smiling until someone commented on it. Well, he hadn't realized he was that happy at all. And just from a number of a few torrid kisses? Raffe wondered if he was turning into an idiot or crazy or a little of both. He wasn't like this before. Pantheon be damned, he had a cluster of lovers from time to time in the past but nothing had set his body on fire just from simple kisses and caresses. But with Soren, it was different.

How the flying fuck did that even happen?

This is ridiculous. He was not even a teenage boy anymore.

Neither hot nor cold, Soren's pale skin was smooth like silk and smelled like fresh apples and Raffe wished he was caressing it right now because, fuck, it was addicting and he was already hovering somewhere between fool-headed lust and outright obsession. And that mouth, that infuriatingly distracting mouth that tasted like the sweet wine from Ianthe and the sugary and syrupy dessert they had that evening, Raffe would give anything to taste that unique flavor of Soren again right now.

But, god-fucking-dammit, he needed to focus on his mission, especially before their planned attack. Being the High General of the entire army and the crown prince of the empire was not exactly a walk in the park.

Not when he was expected to deliver positive results in almost everything. He was always going to be the face of the glory of success and the bitter taste of failure. Raffe learned that the hard way when he first wore the mantle of the High General and waged war against the shifters of the other foreign countries who invaded the islands of Essem. That was his first victory as High General.