“Would you like one?” I side-eyed him. “A royal companion?” He leaned in, leaving no space between our bodies. “A tiara.” Chills erupted on my skin, thoughts skittering to unholy places. “It would seem rather gaudy for a farmer.” “But you are not that anymore, annwyl. You are mine.” I pressed my lips together. “A mistress to the Prince of Prohibition?” He bent down, ever so slightly, human eyes scouring mine. Darkness pooled between us. Unyielding need. My breath hitched, muscles taut as he placed a breathless kiss to the corner of my lips. “A princess to the Prince of Prohibition.”
