Coronation

by Cleo White

King Benedict isn’t here to prove anything to anyone; he is a man who knows his place in the world and doesn’t need to posture to demonstrate it.

It’s preposterous that we can’t seem to stop touching each other, that she went from being a stranger to me to essential to my survival in such a short period of time.

“No one else touches you tonight. Do you understand?” I order, my voice like gravel.

I’ve never felt anything like this, and now that I have—now that I know—how can I go on without it?