The Wolf Prince Hid His Mate, So the Lords Wanted His Crown novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Boathouse

"Let me think what, Your Highness?"

Hakon stared out through the windscreen at the black water.

He had two years of answers and every one of them sounded stupid in the dark.

"That you were sorry," he said.

"That you woke up next to the Crown Prince, and it was the worst thing that ever happened to you."

Joren did not say anything.

His profile was hard against the pale glass, and a muscle jumped in his cheek.

"Is that what you thought?" he said at last.

"What else was I supposed to think?" Hakon said.

"That's a long conversation," Joren said.

"Then have it," Hakon said.

"Not in a car on the verge of the fjord road, with your mark burning through your shirt."

Hakon looked down.

It was burning.

The silver light showed through his white dress shirt at the hip, a clear crescent, and he put his hand over it.

"You can see it from here," Joren said. "I can feel it from here."

"So can I."

"Then you know what I want more than I want to talk."

Hakon's mouth had gone dry.

"Say it."

"I want to put you face down on something and fuck you until you stop thinking."

He said it flatly.

Hakon's cock filled so fast he could not hold back the sound he made.

"Yes," he said. "That one. The second one first."

Joren started the car.

The academy boathouse stood alone on the shore, half a mile past the lights of the main buildings.

It was a long timber shed with a slip for the rowing boats and a loft for sails.

It smelled of tar and cold water.

Joren shut the big door behind them and dropped the bar.

In the dark the mark on Hakon's hip lit the whole room a faint silver.

The white hulls of the boats on their racks shone back at it.

"I took the salve," Hakon said.

He held up the tin from the bathroom cupboard.

"I thought you might," Joren said.

"I thought about this the whole time he was talking about my twenty-first birthday."

"I know. I could smell it."

Joren took the tin from him and set it on the nearest hull.

Then he took Hakon by the front of his coat and kissed him.

It was not like the lodge.

It was slow and deep, with a hand at his jaw.

It went on until Hakon's knees stopped holding him, and he was holding on to Joren's shoulders.

When it ended Joren was breathing unevenly.

"Coat off," he said.

Hakon shrugged it off.

The shirt followed, and his belt.

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