Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Rorrick
Every time I lick my lips, the memory of how she tasted has my fangs slipping back out. I swallow hard and try to calm the racing thoughts in my head.
But I can’t.
Boris will find my greedy mark on her fantastic fucking tits, and when he sees where Seven had her...
He’ll kill us.
And her.
My entire body is on high alert when Christian takes her hand and guides her patiently through the castle halls.
Everywhere we look is a threat. Any one person could ruin us.
We’ve royally fucked up, but I can’t bring myself to regret it.
Not when the taste of her is still on my lips, my tongue.
Not when her steps start to slow, exhaustion overcoming her until she wobbles on her heels.
“I’ve got ya,” I murmur, immediately lifting her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. She immediately slumps closer, her lashes flickering as she tries to fight it.
The way her hand smooths over my shirt before slipping in between the buttons to touch my flesh makes some deep primal beast inside me roar.
I want her to look this peaceful forever.
I don’ want to see the fear in her eyes when she’s around the King. I don’t want the knowledge of her looming death in those green depths. I just want this: the lazy slight curl of her lips as her eyes slide shut, the look of a well-loved woman.
And we haven’t even fucked her yet.
Yet. As if we’re going to get the opportunity to do anything else. Our deaths are on the horizon. For fuck’s sake, mine’s been looming over my head since I was seven. I’m not afraid of it. I’ve never been afraid of it. But Crymson’s death? For the first time in too long, I know fear again.
“Don’t look so conflicted,” Christian commands as we trail through the castle toward his room. “She’s one woman.”
The coldness in his tone tells me he’s trying too hard. He’s a cold bastard alright, but I’d seen the longing in his gaze as we’d tasted her, as she’d shattered for us and begged him to join in. He may think he’s made of stone, but I can see his cracks.
I’ve always been able to see his cracks.
“If you don’ have anything truthful to say, maybe keep yer fuckin’ mouth shut,” I growl back at him.
The rumble of my growl jostles Crymson in my arms and I immediately shift, trying to make her more comfortable.
The green dress splits around her legs, the silk like water over legs that sport far too many scars.
The color of the fae. Beautiful and yet another thing that puts her in danger here.
When the King sees her, he won’t be happy.
I suspect it was a choice on her part to wear green.
The fire inside her heart matches her hair. The magic though. . .
We haven’t discussed what had happened. I’ve felt fae magic before, but I’ve never felt whatever kind of magic she wields.
It was almost fluid. . .undetectable, until it was already affecting me.
She’d sat there, confused, as I’d flailed around the room, completely out of control.
Even Christian had been respectful of her, nicer than I’ve ever seen him.
And yet now he talks as if she means nothing.
Seven doesn’t say a word as he walks beside us.
His head is held high, and I don’t blame him.
The taste of her blood is in my mouth, but the taste in his is a mix of blood and the sweet release she’d coated his tongue with.
Jealousy has never hit me so hard as it does at that thought.
What I wouldn’t give to taste her cunt, to lap her up as she convulsed against my tongue.
Fuck, I’d give a lot. So much so, I’m hardly thinking about the evidence we’d left behind, evidence the King will find when the Thorn King finally shows up and presents Crymson to him.
We’re all fucked.
Christian opens the door to his room and leads the way inside.
I follow after him, Seven coming in last and making sure the door is securely closed behind us.
Crymson is limp in my arms, her soft breaths slipping out as she sleeps.
Her hand still rests against my chest inside my shirt, flesh against flesh, like a fuckin’ proposal.
I may as well carve out my heart and hand it over to her.
I’ve never been so achingly desperate to be touched by a woman before. Not like this.
Without waking her, I move toward the bed and gently lay her down.
I try not to howl when her hand slips away and she nestles into the plush blankets instead, only barely restraining it.
I’m tempted to climb in behind her and tuck her in close to my body, but Christian stands there with his brooding expression, his eyes dark with thoughts I can’t decipher.
Fuckin’ bastard. Always so cold and quiet.
The complete opposite of his father in almost every single way.
Sometimes I think that’s on purpose.
“We should leave her,” Seven says, finally breaking the silence. “Let her rest.”
I study her, take in the spread of her red hair across the pillow. Her cheeks are a little more gaunt than when she first came here, but she’s still just as beautiful. Despite this situation, despite the hopelessness of it, she’s still stoking her fire.
It’s going to kill me to see that fire smothered out.
“I’ll watch over her,” I volunteer. When the other two look at me, I shrug. “Just in case.”
Christian raises his brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with her.”
I’m not! I don’t say it. But my silence says more than words could have. It says all about how I was a fool and fell for the King’s Promise.
I meet Christian’s gaze and his face flickers with emotion so fast, I almost miss it. He schools his features once more into the cold mask before turning and striding toward the door. Neither of them say anything else.
But that silence speaks, too.