Chapter 9 Paeonia #4
The moment his name left her lips, before another second could pass, Rowan grabbed both of Paeonia’s arms and spun her back into a small alcove, pressing her against the dingy wall and away from that male who seemed set on taking her to bed.
Her fingers clawed at the wall behind her, her breathing coming in rapid repetitions.
Rowan shadowed her so she couldn’t see anything beyond him, the threatening man lost to his silhouette.
He had to hunch over to get his face in line with hers, the darkness of the brothel creating an ethereal, and yet fearsome, glow.
Her breathing broke. She couldn’t do this again—couldn’t be forced—
“Focus on me,” Rowan demanded.
She sucked in a breath, her eyes locking with Rowan’s dark ones, his body preventing any of her other senses from exploring her surroundings. All that she saw, and felt, and smelt was Rowan.
“I won’t let any of them have you, understand?”
She nodded even though she didn’t fully understand.
He bent his knee forward, notched on the wall behind her and between her legs, tightening her dress around her thighs.
She thought she heard the creature’s muddy voice behind Rowan, beckoning for her, and she found herself shaking against her control.
All the times she wanted to shove Barth away came rushing into her chest. She shut her eyes.
“Focus on me,” he said again. “Look at me. Do not get lost inside your mind.”
She did. She met his dark gaze, entranced. She didn’t understand why he pinned her against the wall. And as if he could read her mind, he answered her.
“You must be covered in my scent or anyone in here could think you’re just another whore to be bartered. You’re unclaimed. Unmated.” He spoke in a regretful lilt, like he hadn’t meant for this to happen to her, his gaze softening. But he was the one who took her in here—what did he expect?
She gulped, and Rowan moved his leg, nudging it further between her legs. He didn’t seem to take notice, and Paeonia’s face went aflame.
He leaned in so his face buried slightly in her hair, his breath fanning on her neck. “Just give it another moment,” he spoke coolly, and Paeonia’s vision began to flutter. She didn’t feel in control of her body. “Once covered in a fae’s scent, no one here will want you.”
She almost felt comforted by him until he spoke again, his voice becoming more husky with every word, his voice breaking. “At least until it wears off. Until someone properly lays claim over you.”
She bit her lip, and Rowan’s heat began to overwhelm her.
Her hands had instinctively grabbed his jacket, tricking her mind into thinking she had some form of authority over this interaction, that she could shove him away if need be.
His breathing in her ear became unsteady, and she almost yelped when his hands left the wall to rest on her waist. They slid delicately along the slopes of her hips, his entire body suffocating.
And yet, she felt safe. She had forgotten all about that odd male who seemed ready to take her to one of the back rooms. All she knew was Rowan. The way he leaned over her, caging her in, stroking her side, breathing against her neck, his leg between her thighs.
Oh god, she was practically sitting on him, and Paeonia had the sudden urge to roll her hips.
Wrong. This was all wrong. She couldn’t fathom why her mind was becoming so foggy and her belly warm with lust, a feeling she never felt before. Something so foreign to her, she was surprised she was able to put a name to it at all.
Rowan made a deep sound in his chest when Paeonia shifted her weight, trying to stop herself from this enchantment he had her under.
He stood straight, the warm air now feeling cool where Rowan’s overheated body had just been.
His eyes were wild when he glanced down at her, and she stared, dumbfounded.
She pushed back her hair, her forehead sweaty, and tried not to choke when she swallowed.
Rowan grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the exit, passing that masked creature who sniffed her as she walked by, now repulsed by whatever it was he smelt.
“Leaving so soon, Rowan?” one of the females pouted.
He ignored her, taking Paeonia back into the thrum of the market. The female seemed familiar with Rowan, and Paeonia wondered how often he visited here. She was inclined to ask, but such a forward question was something that would never leave the confines of her mind.
She stumbled down the steps, Rowan charging in front. So much beauty lay within these dark walls, but Paeonia had been too stunned in horror to take any more of it in. Too overwhelmed.
She rushed to meet Rowan’s strides, grabbing onto his arm, not caring if he pushed her away. She hated the feel of someone’s body on her own, but she clawed out for Rowan anyway, clinging to him for dear life. He didn’t object, didn’t even acknowledge that he felt her hanging onto his forearm.
She stepped into a puddle, the cobblestones damp, her skirt and boots now wet, and she made a face of disgust. She fought the urge to cry out of sheer frustration.
They passed a ring of violent outbursts, smaller creatures—goblins, perhaps—slashing at each other as the audience around them hollered. Blood oozed out of one of the goblin’s mouths, and Paeonia shoved her face into Rowan’s arm, trembling.
She couldn’t look any longer; she just wanted to be out of this place. Rowan shifted, letting her slide against his side, tucking her under his arm. Her face instantly buried into his chest as she allowed him to guide her out of the Night Market.
Her breathing steadied when she realized no one would dare threaten Rowan. She felt invisible as he led her back out, only letting go once they were outside the decrepit building, the sun finally slipping over the horizon.
She stumbled away from him, and he blinked stupidly at her. She quickly looked at her feet, embarrassed.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, her socks damp and uncomfortable. When they edged toward the castle, the sun was a faint sliver of orange in the distance.
They both stopped in their tracks, Rowan remaining facing forward, away from her.
“Why did you take me there?” she asked.
His back tensed. “I,” he began before falling silent again.
He sucked in a breath. “You said I did not care for your safety. Did you see the horrors of the Night Market? Those creatures linger in the dark. It is not just wolves that should frighten you. So when I command you to stay in your rooms, I do so for good reason.”
“All to teach me another lesson?” she whispered, but her voice was no less appalled.
“I didn’t think—I hadn’t thought that would happen—”
“You know,” she interrupted quietly. Rowan let her cut him off even if her voice could never speak over his. “You could just say you’re sorry.”
Silence passed between them for several seconds before Rowan turned to her. “Get inside. Go to your room,” he said rather softly, but with a hasty need.
“Why?” Her chest expanded as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Which one of those creatures lingers on this side of the forest?” she asked, glancing briefly to the tree line behind them.
He shot daggers at her, his eyes beginning to glow silver. “Me.”
Paeonia backed away, stumbling toward one of the fences that lined the castle.
Rowan let out a deep growl as she watched in horror, his features shifting.
Horns sprouted from his head, his hair shagging slightly longer, claws extending, his lips turning into a snarl, his features swathed in darkness, his skin deepening to a more violet hue.
Scars formed on his lips, chin, and cheek—more so than he usually had.
She had faced him in the gardens once before when he punished her, his look feral. But now, with his features truly that of a creature, he seemed like he actually was going to hunt her, and when he caught her, he wouldn’t hesitate chomping into her bones and swallowing her whole.
“W-what is happening to you?” she asked in disbelief. Her back bumped into the wrought-iron fence, trapped as he prowled closer. She could only stare in terror as he invaded her space.
His jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together, his fist clenching and unclenching. He leaned toward her, his hands gripping either side of the fence, caging her in. He eyed her like he wanted to take a bite out of her. His pupils completely expanded, his entire gaze dusted over in violent lust.
His fingers slid to her locket, then lingered on the key he had gifted her, tied around her neck beside the charm. He dropped the key, his hand slamming back against the fence on the side of her head.
“I’m sorry.”
She didn’t answer.
He took a deep breath in, bending closer to her.
Warmth from his mouth stroked her skin as he panted against her neck.
She froze, afraid of what would happen if she attempted to push him away.
He still didn’t fully touch her. His lips tickled below her ear, and her eyes fluttered slightly at the foreign feeling, expecting his sharp teeth to sink into her skin.
He let out a hot breath before speaking, his words so low that she had trouble making him out. “Go inside, Pae, before I do something I regret.”
He hovered another moment, then pulled back from her in what appeared like pain. Visible pain.
“Go!” he growled.
She gasped, turning around, shoving the gate open, and bolting for the castle, never looking back until she made it to her room, slamming her door shut, turning the lock.
She panted, collapsing against the door.
Apart from every terrible thing that she faced today, the worst was when Rowan called her ‘Pae’, a nickname she despised. A nickname that only Barth referred to her as.
And yet, she didn’t hate it when it came out of Rowan’s mouth. Didn’t hate the way it rolled off his tongue.
She grabbed the side of her head, her fingers twisting in her hair. What was happening to her?