Chapter 60 – Ayer
AYER
The little Rose Princess is curled against my chest. Long, dark hair cascades down her back in tangled waves. I watch the slow rise and fall of her chest. My gaze trails up, lingering on those delicately pointed ears of hers while a muscle ticks in my jaw.
I shouldn’t be doing this—shouldn’t have taken her into my bed last night, a faerie. A Sitari faerie of all things.
It was my intention to leave last night, to leave the little Rose Princess to lick her wounds in peace—the wounds she has because of me—but the fear in her voice when she asked me not to go...
Carefully, I shift, trying to ease out from underneath her without waking her. But just as soon as I’m free from her touch, her eyes fly open.
Rowan twists under the blanket in a panic, scrambling across the bed—away from me—her eyes darting everywhere.
I frown, staying still so as not to spook her further. “Do you always wake up like that?”
She sits up fully in the bed, blinking at me until her eyes soften with recognition. Panic eases into guarded wariness within those forest green eyes of hers.
“No,” she snaps, her tone defensive while she looks away.
Slipping out of bed, I cross the room to grab one of my saddlebags I left on the table last night. I feel Rowan’s gaze tracking me as I do.
I rummage around inside the bag before tossing an extra pair of leathers into her lap. Grateful I remembered to pack them before we left for the fort, knowing the fight was bound to get a little dirty and we might be stuck out here for a few days.
“Get dressed,” I order when she just stares at the bundle.
Her eyes narrow immediately, and it’s work to keep my lip from twitching up at the flare of fire I see in her eyes.
She doesn’t like being told what to do. Her rebellious attitude should be something I punish, not something I crave.
Yet every time she pushes back, I want to see what else I can draw from her.
“I can’t very well do that with you in here, can I?
” she snaps, folding her arms pointedly across her chest. A mistake.
One that draws my attention to exactly what she intended to hide.
My gaze drops before I can stop it. The tunic I gave her swallows her small frame, but does little to hide the curves beneath it.
Seeing her in my clothes… is dangerous, and I feel something dark and possessive awaken inside me.
I want to remind her how she asked for quite the opposite last night—practically begging me not to leave her, but I lock my jaw.
The fear in her eyes last night… It was real, and it doesn’t sit right to tease her about it.
Attitude or not. So I say nothing, just offering her a lazy shrug of my shoulder before setting about getting dressed myself so I can get the fuck out of this room.
A knock at the door sends Rowan jumping into the heavens, but I just roll my eyes.
“Go away, Theo.”
“Come on,” Theo whines from the other side of the door. “How’d you know it was me?”
“Wyatt and Hayes know better.”
I pull my tunic on over my head before quickly strapping on my leathers, as the door handle rattles violently to my left.
“You locked me out?” Theo complains, shoving harder against the locked door. “Let me in!”
“No,” I reply simply while dropping my gaze meaningfully from Rowan’s eyes to the leathers still sitting untouched in her lap.
“Why not?” the bastard groans louder.
I can’t help the smirk on my face when I reply, “Because the princess is getting dressed.”
The door stops shaking just as Rowan’s cheeks flame a pretty rose pink. She glares at me, though finally moving her ass on those leathers.
“Good morning, Rowan!” Theo calls through the door.
Rowan’s own annoyance can’t stand up against Theo’s bright tone bubbling through the locked door, and I watch her frown lighten. “Hi, Theo,” she says while still shooting me a dark look that doesn’t match her tone.
I can practically hear the prince beaming on the other side of the door.
“When you two are decent, there’s breakfast downstairs,” Theo informs us, his voice fading as he retreats down the hall.
Rowan’s cheeks blush red at the implication, and her mouth falls open before she snaps it shut again.
I finish strapping on the last of my leathers and weapons, unlocking the door before half slipping through it.
“I’ll be out here,” I tell her, leaving the door just slightly cracked after I step through it.
So she’s not alone.