Chapter 11 #2
Pinned in a chair with him on his knees in front of her, she couldn’t escape.
“I can’t control whether I feel you or not,” she defended herself.
He had no right to be mad at her for it.
“I didn’t know what it was. I just thought I was hypersexual,” she babbled on.
“I mean, I am, I love sex, don’t get me wrong, but?—”
“ Enough ,” he hissed through his teeth.
“Don’t speak to me that way,” she snapped. “It’s not my fault I can feel your private moments. At least I can’t feel them full force, then you’d really feel violated.”
His head jerked. “You think I feel violated because you felt me fuck someone else?”
She hiked a shoulder. “I don’t know why else you would be pissed off.”
He stood abruptly and took a step back, running his hands through his hair again.
“I’m pissed off because I don’t want to think about my mate with someone else.
” Oh. In that case, she had information he really wasn’t going to like.
“To know that I fucking felt it?” His arms dropped to his side. “I want to kill something.”
“I’m good at burying bodies.” The joke slipped out before she could stop it.
The silence between them stretched on forever, broken only when Dean threw his head back with a loud laugh.
His eyes twinkled when they met hers, and a small dimple appeared in his right cheek.
She pressed a hand to her chest, his laugh vibrating through her stronger than anything she’d felt before.
It was as though her soul could hear it, warm and rich and perfect.
“You really are my mate,” she whispered, unable to temper her awe. She hadn’t realized until that moment that a small part of her still doubted.
His smile widened. “And you are my queen.”
Fawn’s face drained of color. “Queen?” she whispered.
Dean shrugged off his royal coat and tossed it on his bed. She looked ready to bolt, and he’d need full range of motion to catch her. “Yes, darling. When you marry a king, you become queen.”
She looked like she might faint. “I can’t be queen of an entire kingdom.”
Dean approached her in slow, measured steps. “What are you afraid of?”
Her face slackened. “Everything! I’m a maid who grew up on a godsdamned horse ranch.” She stood motioning to her plain clothes. “This is the nicest dress I own. I don’t know anything about politics or fighting.”
Her rising panic clawed through Dean’s insides, twisting into something horrible. I have to do something. He yanked her to his chest, hugging her tight, rocking her back and forth. Braddock’s husband, Monroe, always said hugs calmed people down and made them feel better.
Fawn’s body stayed stiff in his hold, but her breathing began to slow. Though that might’ve been because her face was smashed against his chest and she couldn’t breathe. He gently guided the top of her head until her cheek rested against his chest.
“You’re crushing my ribs,” Fawn croaked, wiggling a little.
Dean cursed and loosened his hold. “I’m trying to calm you down.”
Fawn’s shoulders rose with a deep breath. “I’m okay.” He didn’t move. “You can let go now.” There had to be a reason to keep holding on. “ Dean .”
With great reluctance, he unwound his arms from her body and led her to a large settee in front of the fireplace.
“I don’t like you working yourself up over baseless fears.
” She tried to argue, but he held up his hand.
“It doesn’t matter if you grew up with wolves or dressed in rags.
Whatever you need to know can be taught, and you now have unlimited funds at your disposal to buy whatever clothes you want.
Parade yourself around in the cheapest tarp or the grandest cloth. I don’t care.”
He sat beside her and wrapped her hand in his. “The only thing we need to focus on right now is getting to know each other.”
Fawn’s mouth twisted to the side. “Easy for you to say. You were raised to be king.”
“I was raised by a man who had a war general beat me for punishment,” Dean said coolly. “Being born wealthy and powerful doesn’t mean a damn thing. Even gold melts in hell.”
He waited for her pity, but she offered none. Fawn stared at him for the longest time then nodded. “So what happens next?”
Dean ran through the logistics of their travel home in his head.
At a normal pace with ample rest, the journey home took about a week.
If they stopped minimally and rode hard, they could make it in less.
“I’ll speak with the stable and my men about travel,” he thought aloud. “We’ll be on the road by morning.”
“Like hell we will.” Fawn folded her arms across her chest. “I have a family. A job. I can’t just leave.”
“I’m certain your job already knows you won’t be back,” Dean pointed out, but his mate averted her eyes.
Oh fuck . Does she have a partner? She couldn’t be married or the bond would’ve broken, but some people chose not to wed.
If she was attached, he’d have to stage her partner’s death, but if she had children…
would they accept him as their father? He’d buy them whatever they wanted if that’s what it took.
Thoughts of Cali slammed to the forefront of his mind. She would be heartbroken when he broke the news. His fiancé— ex -fiancé, had been sure he’d come home alone. How would Fawn take the news of his betrothal to another? If she got to know him first, would she take the news better?
She watched him wage an internal war expectantly. Fawn still guarded herself, and he couldn’t bring himself to risk her shutting him out completely. The thought of the bond going quiet again slicked his palms with sweat.
No, he’d send a missive to Braddock, explaining his situation.
His friend would keep Cali out of the palace until Dean returned and called on her to end their engagement.
Then he would tell Fawn. If the engagement had already ended by the time he told her about Cali, she’d understand the other woman was no threat to her.
Before they left, he’d have Rennick send a messenger post haste. If they rode hard, they’d arrive to the palace before Dean and Fawn. With that settled, he braced himself and asked, “Do you have a partner?”
Fawn burst out laughing. It wasn’t the warm, sunny laughter he loved—it was disbelief. “Gods, no.”
“You’re single?” he clarified.
Another chuckle. “Yes. I’m completely unattached, except for this pesky bond tying me to a too-tall fae king.”
He scowled. “I’m only six foot three.” Maybe six foot four. It’d been just under a decade since they’d measured him.
Fawn held her hand level with the top of her head. “That’s nine inches taller than me. I’ll need a running start to kiss your lips without a stool.”
The implication sat heavy in the air between them.
He wanted to devour her, but not yet. They needed to get to know one another first. Fawn wasn’t a quick fuck in the back of an ale house.
She was his mate, and when he buried his cock inside her for the first time, he wanted it to be the last thing bringing them together, not the first.
“I’d like to know about your family,” he said earnestly.
If the subject change surprised her, she didn’t show it. She only smiled at him, stealing his breath. “Grab your riding boots, pretty boy. We’re going to the ranch.”