Mated To The Cruel Prince
Chapter 569: A Missing Clause In Her Rule

Chapter 569: A Missing Clause In Her Rule

Islinda opted to take nothing as she stood waiting for Aldric in the foyer. She had arrived in the Fae realm with nothing to call her own, which meant nothing here truly belonged to her. It was also a subtle act of defiance she wanted to convey to Aldric and a desire to distance herself from any sense of belonging.

She had deliberately changed out of her clothes, a means to distance herself from the memories of the intimate encounter with Aldric. She didn’t want to be haunted by the lingering sensations of his touch or the allure of his lips, especially considering how close she had come to succumbing to his charm before Valerie’s interruption.

Islinda dressed simply, donning a pair of tunic and pants. She aimed to blend in rather than stand out upon her arrival at the winter court, uncertain of her new status she would hold under Aldric’s rule. Would he maintain her privileges or relegate her back to servitude? Islinda couldn’t wait to uncover it.

Despite his eagerness to depart for the winter realm, Aldric seemed to take his sweet time. But Islinda’s patience waned, her feet growing weary from the prolonged standing. She shifted her weight from side to side, resisting the urge to sit down. Sitting would make her feel vulnerable and diminutive in Aldric’s imposing presence. So, she remained standing, determined to maintain an aura of strength and composure until he arrived.

Before she saw him, Islinda’s senses were instantly assaulted by Aldric’s unmistakable scent, sharp and crisp like the winter air itself. It was a scent that cut through her like a blade, leaving her momentarily disoriented. As she turned to face him, Islinda found Aldric standing before her, his expression stoic and unreadable.

Their gaze locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as they simply stared at each other. But within those icy blue eyes, Islinda could sense a smoldering heat, a silent intensity that seemed to sear her skin. As Aldric’s gaze swept over her body, tracing her contours with an almost tangible desire, Islinda’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing with a familiar urgency.

Fuck. Islinda’s breath trembled as she struggled to steady herself, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. She cursed silently, wishing she had included in their new ground rules a clause forbidding Aldric from looking at her in such a way. Yet, despite her inner turmoil, a part of her couldn’t help but revel in the knowledge that he still found her desirable, that she hadn’t stripped away his right to admire her.

For all his darkness, Aldric was undeniably captivating, wrapped in a package so tantalizing it was almost sinful. His royal lineage, usually concealed beneath a cloak of darkness, was now on full display in the regal attire of the winter court. Every inch of Aldric exuded power and authority and If his intention was to remind everyone of his status — his dual identity as both the dark Fae prince and the heir to the winter court throne — he was succeeding beyond measure.

Islinda had grown accustomed to seeing the other Fae princes with long hair, but not Aldric. He had always preferred his, short. Yet now, strands of midnight blue cascaded down his back, framing his chiseled features in a mesmerizing display. Whether Aldric had grown his hair in mere minutes, had extensions added, or used magic to achieve the transformation, Islinda couldn’t say for certain. After all, if they could make her human ears appear Fae at the palace, manipulating hair with their magic shouldn’t be beyond their capabilities.

There was no denying that Aldric looked breathtakingly handsome and regal with his long hair. At this moment, Islinda found herself unable to decide whether she preferred him with short or long hair; he was simply unlike anything she was accustomed to seeing. Regardless of his appearance, it served as a stark reminder to Islinda that she was not on his level, dark Fae prince or not .

Aldric wore the hairstyle befitting a High Fae, his long midnight blue tresses gathered into a sleek ponytail, with delicate braids adorning the edges. This style accentuated his sharp features, lending him an air of predatory allure while retaining his undeniable beauty.

His attire matched his regal demeanor, the long jacket crafted from a deep-blue brocade, adorned with a mesmerizing pattern resembling winding frost that danced across the fabric’s surface. Threads of midnight hues intertwined with shimmering silver, creating an enchanting display akin to glimmering ice crystals catching the light.

The fabric draped gracefully over his broad shoulders and tapered down to his waist, accentuating his regal stature. Beneath the brocade, a snug-fitting tunic hugged his muscular frame, outlining every contour of his chiseled physique with tantalizing detail. It clung to him like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination and highlighting the raw power and strength he exuded.

Islinda greedily took in the sight, the deep blue hue of Aldric’s attire complementing the icy intensity of his gaze, lending him an air of authority and sophistication befitting a prince of the winter court. But even with all those propriety, there was still an undeniable aura of darkness surrounding him. The same darkness that she was used to. The same darkness that had woven its tendrils deep into her soul and tempted her to come to him, its allure irresistible.

Islinda tried not to shiver with pleasure, and willed her feet not to make a move towards him. She could fight whatever charm Aldric placed on her. She had once fallen in love with Valerie, yet got over it. So what was the big deal about Aldric. Sure, the sex was great and she should miss it. Him. But she would get over him. No, she should get over him. She should be able to fight this strange pull to him.

As if sensing Islinda’s internal conflict, Aldric’s eyes grew hooded and intense, darkening with desire. A palpable wave of lust emanated from him, suffusing the air around them and leaving Islinda breathless. His gaze locked onto her with an intensity that made her feel like the center of his universe, causing her thoughts to scatter like leaves in the wind.

The intense heat smoldering in Aldric’s gaze ignited, sending a surge of liquid fire rushing to the tender flesh between Islinda’s thighs. A primal urge surged within her, urging her to cast aside the rules she had just established moments ago. She felt an overwhelming desire to press her lips against his, to surrender herself to him completely. She yearned to feel his touch, to let him claim her, to lose herself in the depths of passion and let him take her to heights unknown.

But surrendering to Aldric’s desires would only complicate matters further, a fact Islinda’s traitorous body seemed determined to ignore. Islinda fought against the tumult of sensations raging within her, focusing instead on the pain of her nails digging into her palm until they drew blood. The sharp sting brought a semblance of clarity, grounding her in reality.

Through gritted teeth, she commanded Aldric, "Stop. Looking. At. Me. That. Way."