Elian tried to slide out of bed at dawn, but the Prince was heavy.
Cassian lay sprawled across the mattress like a collapsed statue, one arm thrown possessively over Elian's waist. The morning light caught the sharp angle of his jaw and the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. He looked peaceful, satiated.
Elian carefully lifted Cassian's wrist. It was like lifting a tree branch.
"Going somewhere?" a rough voice rumbled.
Cassian didn't open his eyes, but his grip tightened, pinning Elian back against the sheets.
"To work, Sire," Elian whispered. "The kingdom doesn't run on orgasms alone. Though, judging by last night, we could probably power the capital for a week."
Cassian's lip quirked upward. He finally cracked one eye open, the blue iris bright and clear. "You are noisy in the morning."
"And you are clingy," Elian retorted. "I have a meeting with Mrs. Gable. Unless you want the laundry staff to mutiny, I need to approve the soap budget."
