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Princess of Sweetness and Cherry Pie: "Sir, I woke and you had gone - and left behind you your coat of quills."

_ _Hans My Hedgehog: "Which would you have for husband? The man? Or the creature?"

_ _Princess: "I have a husband, sir. And he is what he is. No more and no less."

_ _-- The Storyteller

Chapter 5

The next morning as usual, the prince was gone. Cherry lay in his bed for a long time, feeling the gentle sunlight on her face, feeling an ache in his absence. As she had requested, he had held her the night through, kissed her ear, whispered words that she had never expected to hear. He whispered that he loved her soft, warm skin, that the sight of her always made him short of breath, that he had wanted to hold her the night before but was afraid . . . afraid of what was happening to him. He was afraid of hurting her with his quills, afraid of scratching her with his claws. She assured him that his touch was so gentle, she felt like glass, and he suddenly kissed her. They lay together the night through, exchanging such whispers and kisses. And it was extraordinary.

Cherry returned to her chambers as usual and refused to see the prince for a week. She took all her meals in her room and spent a great deal of time ignoring the prince's summons as she sat on the balcony, staring at the ocean. The prince was furious, and the estate was in a perpetual state of tension. The prince demanded to know why he was being ignored but his sense of etiquette would not allow him to burst into a woman's private chambers. Instead, he sent Ainsley each night to coax Cherry from her room. Each night, Cherry refused.

"Why do you do this?" Ainsley demanded on the ninth night of the standoff.

Cherry sat in a chair beside the hearth in her room, arms folded, resolute. Her hair was down in a mass of red curls and she was clad in a simple white nightgown that fell to her feet and was laced up the front with pink ribbon. Her pink toes peeped from under the hem and the manicured nails gleamed white in the firelight.

Ainsley stood over the girl, her head slightly tilted, her hands shoved in the deep pockets of her apron. "You've become just as frightened as he!" she cried, realizing.

Cherry swallowed hard and said nothing.

"Something happened," Ainsley went on. "Something that made these feelings of yours more intense, more real. He let you in, he told you things . . ."

"Yes," she admitted hoarsely.

"And you are now afraid of your feelings as well." The maid shook her head. "What a pair you make."

Cherry blinked and looked away guiltily. "I don't want to do this anymore," she said, trying to keep the sob from her voice. Her throat flexed as she tried hard not to cry. "The more I know him, the more I want him, and the more I know I'm just going to get hurt. I don't want him to marry the princess . . ."

"But he will, sweetheart," Ainsley said gently. "He must. They've been intended since before they could speak. It would shock the nation if his highness married a milkmaid."

Cherry sniffed. "Which is why I wish to leave here. I want to go home! He told me I could once. He told me!"

"Oh, no." Ainsley shook her head. "His majesty will never let you go now. Whatever happened a week ago, he's determined to keep you here. At least until you speak to him. He paces day and night. You torment him with this."

"He can go to hell with his tantrums!"

Ainsley lifted her brows, surprised.

"Leave me alone, please," Cherry said curtly. She felt a sting of guilt when the maid looked a little hurt. Ainsley nodded and left the room, quietly shutting the double doors behind her. Once she had gone, Cherry threw herself on her bed. And cried herself to sleep.

When Cherry awoke, someone was stroking her hair. She recognized the smell immediately and turned over. The prince was sitting on the edge of her bed, his liquid black eyes sad. She asked him to leave at once and scrambled away from him. She huddled against the pillows and hugged her knees, peering over them with wet eyes.

"Get out," she said. "I'll scream."

He laughed sadly. "And who would help you? Who would care? No one. I am the master of this estate. Calm down, Amarantha."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Don't call me that. Please go away and leave me alone."

He frowned, his furry brows twisting over his small eyes. "But why? I thought things were going well. After that night . . . Amarantha . . ." He smoothed his claw across the sheets to her but hesitated. He was earnest and sad.

Cherry stiffened and glanced down at his claw. His black nails were gleaming in the firelight, and she knew that if he touched her, it would be over. She would yield. She didn't want to yield. She wanted to go home to her father and forget all of it.

The prince shook his head and his quills rustled. "I never felt so close to anyone as I did that night. I opened my heart to you and it was . . . incredible." His eyes widened as he realized. "I've led a life where I've been closed off from everyone, even my own parents. Ainsley may be one of two people who can really say she knows me. . . .who can really say she loves me," he added in a whisper. He looked at her again. "And you, you have managed to want me and care for me without really knowing what I look like. I understand now. When you look at me, you don't see the hedgehog. You see the man . . ."

"That may be true," she admitted grudgingly, "but I can never have the man."

He looked at her quietly and didn't answer.

"You can honestly say you aren't close to your princess?" Cherry demanded.

The prince smiled slowly under his snout, the soft fur pulling around his sharp teeth. "Rhiannon? I admire her elegance, her poise and beauty . . . but I am not in love with her anymore than that chair over there."

Cherry looked away, unconvinced.

"I didn't come here to talk about Rhiannon," he said.

She heard the bed shifting and looked at him quickly. He was preparing to crawl to her. She stiffened.

"Don't! Stay where you are!"

"Amarantha . . ."

"Stay away!" she sobbed. "Please!"

He frowned to see tears suddenly flow down her face. He came to her anyway and she trembled when he took her in his arms. The musk of him consumed her. He was clad in soft velvet, with cameos and gleaming silver buttons. She hated herself when she melted against him, hated herself for enjoying the feel of his fingers in her hair. She closed her eyes as he kissed her head and whispered, "Hush . . . please, don't cry."

"How can I do anything else?"

"I know I've put you through hell the last few weeks. I don't blame you for wanting to go home. But I can not let you leave here."

"Please, let me g-go . . ." she whispered miserably.

"No," he said adamantly. "I can not."

"Please."

"No."

"Your majesty . . ."

Her lashes fluttered when he kissed her lips. "Call me Ronan," he whispered against them.

"I can't."

"You can and you will. You will learn. You will learn to enjoy being here . . . living in my summer home . . ."

She stiffened as she realized what he meant. "I will not," she said angrily, "live here as your mistress!"

"You will," he said quietly. "Because I command it. I want you here."

"I don't care what you want!"

"Amarantha . . ."

"No!" She tried to wriggle away. "How dare you! How dare you suggest - the first thing you told me when I came --"

"Am --"

"--was that I was not here to service you! I could leave at anytime --"

He tried to stop her getting away. He was miserable. She twisted and fought. Eventually, he grabbed her by the wrists and slammed her on the bed. They stared at each other, breathless and gasping. She could see that his quills were almost quivering on end.

"I love you, dammit, that's why," he hissed. "You will not be staying here to provide sexual services to me! You will stay here because I need you here. Because I have learned to need your kisses and your warmth. Do you understand that? I need you!"

Breasts heaving, red curls in her eyes, Amarantha stared at him, astonished. He backed off, and she watched as he scooted to the edge of the bed, where he started removing his boots.

"And you can hate me for it," he said, his back to her, his mass of quills shifting, "hate me all you wish." He jerked to his feet and unbuttoned his trousers. She blushed as he stepped out of them: he was hard. "But you will do this for me," we went on angrily, "you will provide me with your warmth and your kisses."

"Your majesty . . ."

"Ronan," he corrected, laying his trousers on the back of a chair. He turned to face her, his eyes fixed on her as he began unbuttoning his velvety vest.

She stared at him absently, stared at the rigid organ covered in the thin layer of white fleece. It stood, a silent testament of his arousal, reaching from the fuzzy swirling fur that cloaked his scrotum, and it moved with his slightest gesture, wobbling near his rippling belly. It had been more than a week since she'd seen his toned, tall body; a week since she'd felt the hard press of his muscles against her as they made love. Even the last time they were together, he had not undressed but had simply unbuttoned his trousers.

"Take off your gown," he said, unlacing the white blouse that had been under his vest.

"M-Majesty . . ."

"Take off your gown," was the quiet refrain.

Cherry swallowed hard and removed her nightgown. She pulled it over her head with a toss of her red curls. Her breasts bounced from the gesture. She saw the prince swallow hard and hugged them to make them stop moving. She held the nightgown over herself defiantly. Naked now, he came to her and snatched it away, nudging her down on the bed with his forehead. He was upon her at once, kissing her, licking her, tasting her nipples.

"Your majesty . . ."

"Ronan."

"Ronan . . ." she whispered in ecstasy when his fingers found her sex. He moaned as he suckled and fingered her. She sighed and he whispered things that made her blush.

"You smell exquisite . . . I want my mouth there . . . for several hours . . ." His kisses started trailing down. She watched nervously.

"Your majesty, don't - don't lick me . . . Ah! Oh, no . . . p-please . . ."

"Yes . . ." his tongue plunged.

She arched her back and cried out, thrusting her breasts to the ceiling, wriggling to escape. His claws came up and massaged her breasts as he carefully tasted her. He twisted her nipples in his fingers, and she watched them rolling under his touch. The pleasure tingled through her, and she begged him in a whisper to stop, she begged him never to stop.

He didn't stop until she cried out and squirted. She had steadfastly attempted to hold back, but his tongue was insistent, even commanding. As she sagged into the sheets, she could hear him gulping and slurping. His tongue touched her again, bathing her clean in long, rough laps that deliberately made her clitoris start its hungry pulsing once more.

He hovered over her, still licking his lips. His eyes peered into hers and suddenly, he filled her. She gasped and clung to him as they moved together. Her fingers found his quills and curled in them. She felt him shivering all over, and inside of her, his erection swelled. She cried out and arched her back. He enjoyed it when she touched his quills! All the times he had told her not to . . . was because he enjoyed it! He looked at her guiltily as they rocked together, and she continued to run her fingers through his incredibly soft spines.

"Oh . . ." he whispered weakly, "Amarantha . . . they're sensitive . . . don't . . ."

She licked his panting lips with the tip of her tongue and stroked his quills again. He swelled harder, slid deeper when her sex suddenly moistened and lengthened. He closed his eyes and shivered and suddenly held her tight, burying his face in her hair. Her face was in turn buried in the warm fur of his shoulder and chest. The hard wall of his muscles, the heat of him consumed her. She could feel her breasts slapping his fur, growing red with the friction as her nipples brushed him. He was trembling all over. Apparently, touching his quills during sex had an intense affect. It was something she should have realized when he had his accident the first night.

Biting her lip, Amarantha curled her fingers tight in his spines and stroked. She saw many of the quills quiver to their tips.

"Ah!" He pulled his face from her hair and looked at her helplessly. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "Amarantha . . . oh god . . . stop!"

She stroked them again, this time all the way down his back. A shiver went through him. He frowned and tensed, then dropped his forehead against hers.

"You're going to make me come," he begged. "Like the first night . . . listen to me . . ."

"But you look so cute, weak and gasping and begging . . ."

"Amarantha!"

She touched his quills again, watching as he shivered, as one of his furry ears twitched. He gave a low moan of pleasure, then choked as if he was going to come.

"Stop!" he snarled and slammed her hands above her head.

It took them both a moment to realize his coat of quills had come off in her hands.

Cherry gasped and went very still. The prince was human - and, god, was he handsome. Now she understood why Sandy fell so in love with him when she saw him. Now she understood. His dirty blonde hair greatly resembled the light brown coat of fur that had covered him only moments before. His eyes were the same dark and intense eyes that had always looked at her with affection and amusement in the past, only now they had lost their bulging rodent shape and were cloaked in thick pale lashes. His smooth olive skin spread over a body that was still toned and athletic. His nipples were still dark, but his penis now had the shape of a man's, was smooth and devoid of fur, and had the bulge of a head on the tip.

The prince sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands in disbelief, at hands that were devoid of black claws, at hands that were smooth and large and pleasantly shaped. His hands were trembling. He glanced at the balcony doors to make sure the sun had not come up. It hadn't. The curse was broken. He laughed weakly.

Very slowly, Cherry sat on the edge of the bed beside him and hugged the coat of quills sadly to her breasts. So it was over. He would send her away now. He would marry the princess. And she would spend the rest of her life dreaming of him.

"If the spell is broken then that means . . ." He swallowed hard and looked at her. "You love me?"

Cherry looked away.

"Amarantha . . ."

"You'll let me go now?" she said dismally, abruptly.

Silence. She didn't have to look at him to know he was hurt. He wanted to hear her say that she loved him, but how could she when he was going to marry someone else? She would not stay here as his mistress!

"If . . ." he cleared his throat. "If that's what you want."

"I do," she said, still not looking at him.

"Are you sure?"

She finally looked at him and felt an ache inside. He was so beautiful, damn him. He was frowning, sad. He sat there slightly hunched, his muscular stomach crunching, his hands hanging between his thighs. He wanted to touch her face, she could tell, but he was heeding the cold edge in her voice. She would cry if he touched her. She didn't want to cry.

"I'd give you the world if you lived here," he told her. "And your father could live here as well."

"I don't want the world," she snapped.

"What do you want? You want the hedgehog back?"

She looked at him angrily.

"Look how you cling to that coat of quills," he said and tossed an incredulous hand.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's because when you were the hedgehog, I didn't have to fear . . . when you were the hedgehog . . ." She looked down the quills and a tear dripped from her eye, splashing them. "You were mine."

"I'm still yours," he said softly.

She looked at him. His dark eyes gazed at her intensely from beneath the sweep of his sandy hair. He was sincere. And miserable.

"No," she said, resisting - resisting the desire to fall into his arms, to pretend his words were true. "No, you can never be mine!" She leapt to her feet. "Now leave me alone please!"

He stared at her a long time, his dark eyes hollow with sadness. Very slowly, he got his feet. She stood with her back turned as he dressed. The silence was unbearable.

"Amarantha . . ."

"Don't say anything."

He came up behind her. Still clutching the coat of quills, she went still and squeezed her eyes shut. His hot breath hit her neck. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "I love you." Then he left, quietly.

Cherry's lip trembled and she looked at the coat of quills in her arms. Of course he loved her. Or the spell would never have lifted.