Oh, she’d wanted him so badly. His heat and his hands on her. Wanted the electricity that danced between them. Wanted his danger, his wicked edge.
Wanted his hunger for her to consume him as much as she was consumed by her own. And it had. She’d loved him ripping her nightie from her and her lacy underwear too. Loved how he’d held her in his arms. Loved how he hadn’t even stopped to undress properly, before spreading her thighs, and thrusting deep inside her.
It hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t even felt strange. It had felt right and perfect, as if he was supposed to be there. As if they were supposed to be joined in this way, a raw, elemental meeting, creating magic between them.
Anna looked up at him, still dazed, meeting his eyes. And she opened her mouth to tell him how amazing he was and how wonderful he’d made her feel, when he pushed himself off her abruptly and stepped out through the door that led to the balcony before she could say a word.
Anna blinked, a cold feeling shifting in her gut. Had he not liked it? Had it been disappointing? Had she been too demanding? Too difficult? She’d forgotten herself, hadn’t she? She was supposed to be much more distant and self-contained, but then she’d been demanding. Had kissed him with too much hunger, been too needy. You ruined it. Like you always do.
She’d tried that day, years ago. She’d worked hard for the marks she’d managed to get that summer, but school had always been tough for her, because she didn’t like to sit still. She’d showed her father that she’d managed to get a B plus in Biology, and she’d thought he’d be pleased. That finally she’d done something right. But he’d told her it wasn’t good enough, that he expected better and why hadn’t she’d tried harder?
And that was the problem. She’d tried so hard and it still hadn’t been good enough for him. Nothing she ever did had been good enough for him. So she’d lost her temper. She’d grabbed the photo of her mother that was on his desk, the only one he had of her and which he treasured.
She’d ripped it out of its frame and torn it into pieces, because she’d wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt her. His cold veneer had cracked apart then as he’d rushed to the fireplace, futilely trying to grab at the pieces of the photograph. “No…no…” he’d whispered hoarsely. “Not that one… It’s all I have left…”
She had hurt him. She’d hurt him badly. Then he’d raised a hand to his head and collapsed. It had been her temper that had caused the stroke, she had no doubt. If she hadn’t ripped up the photograph, he wouldn’t have been in such emotional pain and so perhaps wouldn’t have collapsed.
Maybe it was the same here. Something had made Cedric leave suddenly, as if he couldn’t wait to get away from her, and it was bound to be something she’d done wrong, because she always did something wrong.
Anna slowly got off the bed. Just before she’d felt as if someone had opened up a bottle of champagne inside her, the bubbles fizzing and filling her with effervescence and light. Now she felt raw and bruised and cold. Perhaps she needed to go and have a shower or something, rather than to follow Cedric.
That’s it, run into the forest the way you always do. When her father had locked her out of the house, she’d always run into the woods around Haerton and disappeared into them, going where the trees didn’t mind if she was loud or asked too many questions. The silence of the forest calmed her, though it had never made her feel less lonely. She’d used to make up all kinds of friends in the forest, a boy who would play chase with her and fight dragons with her. A boy who became a prince when she got older. She would sometimes be his knight or his friend. Sometimes she would be his princess and sometimes he saved her. Sometimes she saved him. But he never told her to ‘go away’. And he never told her to ‘leave me alone’.
Except there were no forests here and running away wouldn’t solve anything. She’d learned that the hard way. The salty night breeze came through the open door, and it wasn’t cold. But still Anna shivered. She looked around for something to wrap around herself, since she was still naked.
She grabbed her robe and put it on. Then she stepped out onto the balcony. The dark outline of Cedric’s tall, broad figure set starkly against the night sky. He had his back to her. He looked so unapproachable, so complete and self-contained that for a second she couldn’t bear to disturb him. Her father had hated her doing that, after all. And besides, what did it matter what she’d done to make him walk away?
“If you think that constitutes a wedding night,” he said without turning around, his beautiful voice roughened, “then you can think again.”
She hadn’t made a sound, so she had no idea how he’d known she was there, and for a second she didn’t understand what he’d said. Because he wanted more?
Was that what he was saying?
“I’m sorry,” she began, her own voice not much better than his. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I-”
“Why are you sorry?” He turned abruptly, his gaze meeting hers, rooting her to the spot. “And you didn’t do anything wrong.”
Anna tried to find her usual cool, but for some reason it had vanished. There was a hot, burning expression in his eyes, the lines of his perfect face taut. He was so still and yet there was a tension in that stillness; the panther ready either to pounce or to vanish back into the jungle.
She had done something wrong, though, hadn’t she? He wouldn’t have shoved himself off the bed so quickly otherwise, surely?
“But you left.” She clutched the edge of her robe more tightly around her. “Why? Was it because I was too… d-demanding? I know I’m not-”
He cursed, stopping the words in her throat. Then he moved, crossing the space between them in a lithe, fluid movement that had her heart suddenly racing, making her very acutely aware that the only thing protecting her modesty was her robe.