The Prince Of Curses h.s.

Twenty eight

When I awoke, the bed beside me was bare and empty. 

Morning light had begun to seep through the underbelly of the tent, waking me from my clouded dream. I sat up, rubbing my eyes with a yawn and looking around the area. 

The tent was zipped closed, Harry's boots and clothes had vanished from the small space. I furrowed my brows, observing my current position before moving. The blankets still held his scent, and my skin brazened by the memory of him sleeping next to me.

I shifted my legs from under the blankets, ambient of leaving its warmth, and stood in the tent. I sifted through my bag, pulling out a fresh set of riding leathers and changing into them.

It wasn't until the dark silk of my nightgown left the skin of my body that I began to think about last night. My bottom lip tugged between my teeth as I thought about our actions— how easy I had let him between my thighs, how eager I was to let him touch me, the hastiness of our actions, and how quickly he pulled me to an orgasm— unacceptable. A gave myself to him without a doubt in my mind. All that primal hunger I felt laying next to him last night had vanished. 

My body was no longer overwhelmed by the feeling to devour him— that need being partially satisfied. Although, I couldn't help but think about how easily he had fed that desire, that hunger, and hushed it with a malicious but soft intent of lust.

I nearly cursed under my breath at the thought as I shoved my feet into each pant leg, a bit of embarrassment rushing over me.

I rebraided my hair quickly— not having a mirror to guide me, but I'm sure it wasn't the best of my work. The mud on my boots had dried since last night, leaving a crusted brown residue around them. Bits of dirt flaked off into the floor of the tent as I shoved my feet into them. Once I was fully dressed I knotted up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, unzipping the tent and making my exit.

The morning air was crisp and humid, puddles of water pooled in the empty crevices of the earth. I looked around our campsite, the fire had been dismantled, the broken tent was no longer on the ground. Broken tree limbs and natural debris littered the area as if we had been in the midst of a terrible storm.

Harry was standing by one of the horses, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, displaying his thick muscles and tattooed arm. He was tying down a bag to one of the steeds as I approached. 

"Morning," he said, his eyes not moving to meet mine. 

The way he continued to work as if we had not done intimate things last night made me swell with embarrassment. I could tell by his side profile that all of my magic had cleared him. His features had returned to their normal state and his eyes frosted over with green. I cleared my throat as I responded, "good morning."

"I take it you slept well," A smirk drew on his lips. 

I looked away, mentally swearing to myself as my face heated. I felt a slight tug on my arm, turning to look as his fingers grazed my shoulder. I couldn't help but stare at them, thinking about how they felt on my body— in my body. Harry cleared his throat causing me to look up at him, realizing he was taking my bag from me. I let him, watching as he took it to the other horse and strapped it down. 

He must've woken up way before me because he had nearly packed up the entirety of our camp. The only thing that remained was the tent we slept in. I also noticed that at some point he must've changed clothing because he was now in all black. 

"Here," he said, tossing me a piece of fruit, "you should eat something before we go. I'll finish packing the rest of our things."

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