Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
Titus
Selene didn’t wear the dress. I didn’t expect her to.
Galen is waiting to see if she will. If she does, that signals an apology.
Some concessions are signed with a dagger.
Blood-red fills my eyes as I drink in the sight of her. She wears the dress, not the other way around. Serenely, she sits, buckling the straps of her matching red heels. Her long black hair falls over her shoulder like a sheet on a bed, begging me to dive into it so I can unwind and relax.
I somehow convinced her to help me. Maybe I can sleep now.
I wonder what it would be like to have her silken hair draping over me?
Stop! Now! Turning, I put some distance between us and cough.
Everett thought you could be a king; he said nothing about fucking the queen.
But… I can’t stop thinking about Selene naked, covered in my shadow as I hover over her. She looks good in dark colors. And her lips—they would be parted as I slide—stop!
I run my hand down my face. If Everett’s magic doesn’t kill me, images of Selene will.
“What do we do?” I whisper. My thoughts resemble a teenager.
“Well…” Selene stands. Her dress whooshes, sliding down her body, clinging to all her curves. “My initial plan is now useless.” Kicking a foot out from her dress, she rolls her ankle, then glares at her shoes.
They’re hurting her. I want to slide them off her feet.
“No more plotting my death?” I smirk in relief.
“Oh, there will be plenty of plotting.” Facing the mirror, she assesses her reflection.
Gods, she is perfect, but her furrowed brow tells me she isn’t happy.
It’s so fucked up to be blessed with such beauty but think you’re less. They should cast out whoever raised her.
She looks down and adjusts the draping of her dress. It’s not as tight as the gown she wore to the feast, but it’s no less attractive.
“I had formulated a plan when you first entered my room.” Her hands slip under the neckline. My eyes widen. She shoves her breasts closer together, making sure her cleavage is mouthwatering.
She rolls her eyes when she notices me staring at her. “What?”
“N… nothing.” Look down! Now!
“If men can adjust their balls out in the open, like feral beasts infested with fleas, a woman can adjust her bosom. Plus, Galen is a breast man. I want him to suffer.” She glances down and smirks at how full they appear.
“Noted,” I wheeze as I look away.
What were we talking about?
“Do I even want to know what your plans were?” I ask in a strained voice. Adjusting my cock sounds like a good idea right now.
How heavy do her breasts feel in her hands?
I scratch my palm. My hands are so calloused, I doubt I could recognize smoothness.
“It involved Galen losing his crown, then his head. Your death was thrown into the mix, but oh, the images of Galen losing the faith of his people. It would have been marvelous.”
“You conjured up how to dethrone a king within a minute?”
“Yes.” She smoothes out the wrinkles.
“You talk about killing kings as if we’re picking out new paint colors.”
Her eyes slide to me. What’s she thinking? “Some colors don’t deserve to grace the walls, Titus.”
True, yet… vicious as fuck. That’s how she got far in life.
“Are all fae like you?” Lethally attractive.
“Masters of skill, plotting, and world domination?” She lifts a brow and then giggles. “It is nurture in my case, Titus. I would apologize, but that word was carved off my tongue as a child.”
Her smile flops like a fish tossed onto the shore, so close to the water, the salty scent fills its gills, yet it stands no prospect of returning.
What has she been through? “Why do I want to know the names of everyone who has harmed you?”
Oh shit! I said that out loud.
She freezes. The tall seductress in front of me turns timid. Her throat rolls, and her chest rises as she presses her palms against her thighs. “You feel it, too?”
“Feel what?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head. “You need no names. I handled them all myself.” Her cough is tighter than the corset strings some women wear. “We have more than enough on our plate; no need to add weight to our ass and hips,” she mutters.
Ass. Turn so I can see yours.
These thoughts are a serious problem. Something inside me is taking over.
“You will continue the act of a respected soldier, duty-bound to guard me. I will… I don’t know how I will treat you in front of Galen yet.
I’ll figure it out as I go. It’s probably best I act like I hate you.
That means I’ll need to attempt to kill you multiple times.
” Her eyes look to the ceiling. “Or I could pretend to accept my fate; that would piss Galen off.
“Yes, I like that. It will make him wonder what I’m up to. But then again, we don’t want Galen’s eyes on us until you figure out how to control your magic.” A deep sigh rolls over her.
She said that all in a single breath.
“As much as I want to make Galen wait, I can’t risk more of my people this sorrow-filled morning. Are you ready?” She cast a worried look at my hands.
“What if I time-weave?”
“I can’t teach you how to control it within mere minutes, Titus. When you feel it coming on, look down. Everett targeted people by looking at them. Just keep your eyes down. Galen will see it as a sign of respect.”
She grabs her crown. It’s a smaller one, not the crown Galen gave her.
The flower petals of the crown aren’t soft or organic, but hard-edged and sculpted, carved from metal rather than stolen from a garden.
They’re faceted, angular, and deliberate, echoing the precision of fae craftsmanship.
They represent forged symbols of fae strength and endurance.
Wearing that crown is a silent nod that she accepts the war against Galen.