Ella I barely have time to close the door before Sinclair slams me against it, but I don’t feel an ounce of pain – No, because I need this just as badly as he does – and I want him, hard, now – Sinclair grabs me low behind my thighs, yanking me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. E
“No,” I murmur, sensing the apology on his tongue. I stare into his face, nodding to him, making him see it. “I needed it too. I wanted it, Dominic. Just like that.” He murmurs something unintelligible to me, pulling away from the door and carrying me with him to a nearby chair that he sinks int
Ella “Ohhh, Rafey,” I murmur, reaching for my baby boy as Cora and Roger come into the room. “I’m so sorry, mommy and daddy just needed a minute.” “Yeah,” Roger says, his smirk deepening. “To talk.” I shrug a little and return his smirk, refusing to let him embarrass me as I carry my bab
“Do you think they’ll let him go?” I ask, curious. “I don’t think that Xander actually means anything special to the Atalaxians,” my mate replies, looking seriously down at me. “I’m securely in power now, and everyone knows that Rafe is my son and heir. If he tries to claim the throne through Ra
lla I enter the elaborate dining room at Sinclair’s side with Rafe tucked sleeping in my arms. There are no doubts or hesitations on my face and I lift my chin high as I smile slightly, letting people see me as my mate’s unbothered Queen, as someone entirely unruffled by the events of this morning
Ella Sinclair moves away at Roger’s side as Cora comes to mine. We both fuss over the baby for a moment, checking to ensure that he doesn’t need anything, but when we’re sure that he’s ready to go I turn him in my arms so that he can look out at all of the people who have come to visit us on this
But my smile falters a bit when I realize that it’s…him. “My Queen,” the Prince of Atalaxia says, giving me a sharp, formal bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” I go a little still, my smile increasing a little at the irony of this because… He stands straight and looks at me then, staring at m
Ella “I don’t think we’ve met,” Sinclair says, looking Calvin up and down, his voice low and dangerous. “Not personally, no,” Calvin says, and I watch him, a little surprised to see that he has regained his composure faster than me. He again executes his sharp little bow, showing obeisance to Si