The soft sound of his beating heart soothes Cordelia into wakefulness, a soft, warm tingling feeling is against her cheek. She couldn’t remember the dream she had, but, she couldn’t deny that reality had somehow felt like a dream come true.

Her cheeks flush when her warm pillow rustles in his sleep. Good god! It wasn’t a dream… She raises her hand to place it on his warm, bare chest. She didn’t appreciate how smooth his skin was until this moment—how beautifully tan it was compared to her own washed-out complexion. Was he born this way, or had the sun blessed him?

Considering his occupation, Cordelia would have expected the man to bare more scars than he had—she couldn’t see any from her current position. A brief glint of hope rises in her belly—what if he was lying about being an assassin—that he was only a common thief trying to scare her into working for him? Was that an idle fancy worth holding onto? After the whimsical acts he performed, she couldn’t stop smiling. A warm blush creeps upon her cheeks—she had never dreamed in a million years she would hand her virtue to a man without class or status, but, she was learning it was hardly important. What mattered was that he didn’t hurt her—he kept to his word. He was gentle.

Cordelia prays that he would proposition her again.

The blonde leans against the thief. The soft satin sheets shone beautifully against the sliver of light that peeked through the giant window. It's tinted, which gave Cordelia the impression it'd be hard to break. A creeping thought unsettles her. She still doesn’t even know the man’s name. Would he give it to her now that the two have lain together? She ponders briefly, biting her inflated lip—he had nibbled it too hard last night. Those amazing feelings stirred within her when his bare thigh brushes up against hers. She closes her eyes as an attempt to restrain her hand from wandering—no—this was not the time to be curious. She had to keep her wits about her. Cordelia grips the satin sheet, the draw to lift it up intense. God, what kind of princess was she—wait—no, she gave up that title the minute she escaped the palace. With closed eyes, she lifts the cover. The red hues against his legs made it hard to see what she was looking for.

<A good morning to you, Deely.> He lets out a soft breath of air, she can hear the smile on her lips as her heart stops. She slams her arm down, her cheeks red from humiliation. God, she couldn’t imagine what he thought of her unholy actions.

<G-Good morning.> She sputters back, refusing to look at the man.

<You have nothing to be ashamed of.> He points out. <Curiosity is our nature as human beings.>

<I wasn't-->

He lifts the covers from his waist to emphasize that he wasn’t bothered by her taking a peek. She covers her face, letting out a displeased moan.

<Deely, you’ve been sheltered way too long.>

<Cover yourself up, now!> She regrets everything—this was way too much to handle.

She hears nothing before she hears the bed creek softly under the weight of his body. Instead, a warm arm wraps around her hips, drawing her close to the exposed thief. The soft sheets cover her frame as he turns her around. His coy grin makes him unbearably hard to ignore. His rough hand brushes against her stomach, soon feeling his warm palm fondle her breast.

<Remove your hand at once!> She orders.

To her surprise, he does—not without a sulk on his lips.

<You didn't mind my touch last night.> He purrs.

<Who says I didn’t?> She glowers.

<Your soft addictive moans.> He arches his brow in amusement.

<I did nothing of the sort.> She wouldn’t give herself away that easily.

<It’s endearing how you deny it, but I don’t have a poor memory.> She wants to slap him but refrains from doing so. <God—you're tight as hell.>

<Don’t!> She raises her hand. She wasn’t cultured in the ways of indecent speak, but she knew enough from their travels what tight meant.

<Deely, that’s a good thing.> He mutters.

<I don't want to hear it, thief.> She annunciates his moniker as if it were a curse word.

<Radjerd,> A warm grin creeps onto his lips as she raises her brows in confusion. <My name is Radjerd.>

<Radjerd? That’s an unusual name.>

<It was my father’s name, although I never met the man. I doubt he knows I exist—despite my own Ma's fondness for him. She says I have my father’s eyes.>

<It should be easy enough to find him then.>

<Believe me, I’ve tried. Reckon it’s a family trait that my own babes will sport.> He laughs.

<Is your mother still alive?>

<Yes, she lives close to The Sands, in a reclusive village. I located her there to keep her safe from my enemies.>

Cordelia should have figured that the man would have enemies, that much was obvious. He was a claimed assassin after all.

<Do you have any siblings?>

He shakes his head. <I had a sister, but she passed away when I was young. It’s been my ma and me ever since.> He curiously looks at her. <How about you?>

<I’m an only child. After my mother gave birth she made it really clear to my father I was the only heir he would have, and he’d have to lie elsewhere should he wish to continue his line.> He respected her mother’s wishes, and instead poured every ounce of his spare time into raising her—spoiling her, and even fighting for legislation to make her be able to rule without a king—until her mother interfered, as she always did. That was information she couldn't afford to share.

<What a peculiar thing to say?> He laughs again. <This is the same woman who fed you that ridiculous virgin-defiling tale, so I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve never heard of a noblewoman encouraging her husband to lie elsewhere.>

<My mother is full of interesting quips. She made it clear growing up I was a means, expect little freedom beyond teenage hood. The minute I became old enough to wed, she would ensure that my existence would be useful, and, arranged a marriage for me. It was to a man in another kingdom I never even met—until last week. He could have been a nice husband, but he was so much older than I, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life taking care of some old man.>

<That would explain why you speak my tongue so well, but why would a noble house send you to a different kingdom? You said yourself that your father cared for you.>

<He does, but my mother calls the shots. He doesn’t have the gall to stand up to her.>

<A right shame, I can understand why you wanted to escape. Both of us had endured hardships—my ma would have done anything to protect me. It’s a shame that yours won't do the same.>

Cordelia frowns, reflecting upon her situation. Would her mother even care she disappeared, besides for the sake of their kingdom?

<Do you look like her?>

<Apparently we share facial similarities, but my blonde hair and blue eyes come from my father’s side.> According to her father’s tale, her mother had dark hair as a child, but it turned a wispy grey in her mid-twenties—two years after Cordelia was born. It hurt to think it might have been her fault, or, if her mother had secretly blamed her for the colour change. It was becoming, Cordelia liked her hair. It was almost like she was a magical creature in her own right. Speaking of… <Did you inherit your magical abilities from your mother, or father?>

<I never imagined it was from my ma. I’m guessing I inherited it from my dad, unless someone cursed me as a babe.> He chuckles. <But enough about that, I have much better things to entertain my head with.> He guides his arm along her back. His lips are deliciously close to hers. God, if she kissed him now—who knows what might happen. Would she risk it? Her stomach flutters as his lips fall upon hers, her head falling against the pillows. He pulls her shift above her thigh, his hands wandering where she knows they shouldn’t, but it doesn’t bother her. She enjoys the rush, feeling oddly rebellious.

<Are you ready to experience what it’s like to have a lover?>

<Lover?> She laughs. <Is that what I am to you?>

<You could be.> He laughs softly in her ear. Lover… she liked the sound of that.

<If you give me my things.> She can see the perplex emotions cross his face. To surrender her possessions would mean that he was no longer her captor, that she was free to go as she pleased. Was he willing to let go of his goal?

He furrows his brows as he curses in a language she can barely comprehend. <I’ll hand you your things, but I want something in exchange. A promise that you won't leave me. I promise I’ll be good to you.> His purr is warm, it tickles her ears.

<Will you let this ridiculous murder plot go?> She asks in hope.

<I can’t say that I will—I need that money. But, perhaps when I become wealthy…> He draws on his words. <Nevermind that. We’ve already touched that subject before, and I’m not interested in soiling the mood.>

Cordelia shudders when the man wats her thighs, raising them to meet his. God, was he really going to—now? She feels excitement build up within her gut. <I promise, it'll feel better this time.>

She lets out a gasp when he flips her over, hiking her rear up against his waist. God, this wasn’t what she was expecting! Cordelia whimpers in delight, her thighs exposed to the breezy elements of their room, as his warm hands grab her waist. A sense of warmness enveloped in between her thighs as he moved within her. She would have smacked him for withdrawing if she didn’t hear a voice she hadn't recognized. She gasps, covering her face with her hands. How did they not hear someone else open the door!

<Freydis, what on earth are you doing here?> She hears the man scramble, pulling Cordelia onto his lap to hide his obvious nakedness. <I told you, I’d meet you in The Sands when I had proper Intel.>

The woman crosses her arms.

Cordelia sees the woman; her curly dark hair frames her tanned skin incredibly well. She was admirably gorgeous, and, rather shapely. What she'd would give to have curves like that.

<Well, don’t hold back introductions, let me see this darling creature. She won’t know the difference.>

<She can speak our tongue.> He says annoyed. <If you didn’t see that I was in the middle of something.>

<I see you have the gall to say that after sneaking into my room.>

<Since when did you have a room rented here at the Locke Manor?>

<Rented? No, I own this room.> She smiles deviously. <And you’re in it—with this delectable creature.> She sits down, making herself comfortable on one of the plush couch pushed against the wall, unfolding her legs after a minute of silence. <Carry on, I certainly don’t mind watching.>

The woman named Freydis adjusts her collar, unbuttoning the fabric holding her rather large breasts close together. She slips her hand past the belt of her pants—oh god! Cordelia wasn’t sure what on earth this woman was doing, but it couldn’t have been good.

The thief throws his hands over Cordelia’s eyes. <Not in front of her!>

A smirk curves on the woman’s lips before she saunters over to the bed. <Ah, you’re right. Where are my manners? I should ask this pretty little angel what she’d like.> She smiles, twisting a strand of the princess’ blonde hair around her finger. <You know, I have a thing for you Weltish types. With fair hair comes naivete. And don’t look so shamed my dear, the only thing you should regret is deciding to sleep with that fool of a man.>

Cordelia blushes, confused about the pangs of delight she feels. It had to be a curse. Cordelia would be lying—considerably—if she didn’t say that she was the least bit curious about the woman’s proposition…

<No need to have a heart attack on my account.> Freydis giggles. <I won't force myself on you—I have respect.> She glares at the dark-haired man.

Radjerd raises his hands in the air. <I did nothing of the sort. She was the one who dragged me in here.>

<Like she’d be able to do such a thing—or would.>

<You’d be surprised.>

<If you're going to mope, at least put your trousers back on.> Freydis waves a hand, dismissing him from the conversation. To Cordelia's surprise, she hears the sound of rustling behind her—he had obeyed her without question. <Darling, your skin is so smooth—like you’re royalty.> She raises a brow as she leans in closer. <How on earth did Radjerd convince you to lie with him?> Cordelia freezes as she feels the woman’s warm chest upon her own. Why did St. Antillans and being so deviously attractive… She hovers near Cordelia’s lips, but studies her face dutifully.

<I can see you’re interested, but something’s holding you back.> She lifts a manicured black brow before cluing into the situation. <Don’t tell me that Radjerd was your first—for the love of it all…>

<If you’d give me a chance to speak, I’d be able to explain myself.> Cordelia growls, not appreciating the circumstance she was in.

<You weren’t complaining when we were together, Freydis.> Radjerd mutters under his breath.

<That was years ago, I was young and stupid.> Freydis winks.

<And last week?>

<Drunk and horny.> She shrugs. <It happens.>