Wolfkissed

Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ROSAMUND

Valen leads the way. He seems to know where we’re headed, which makes sense since he’s been here before. Hand secure around mine, he pulls me up the steps to the second floor, and strides to the room at the end of the long veranda.

“Here.” He gestures at the door with a star painted on it in faded blue. “You have to unlock it.”

“Right.” I fumble with the key, still thinking of his conversation with this Mariella. “The star room. I didn’t know inns gave their rooms names.”

“Normally, they don’t. Normally, they give them numbers.”

“Oh.” I manage to insert the key and unlock the door.

It opens with a whine, and we step into the dimly-lit room.

An oil lamp is burning, hanging from a peg on the wall.

There is a bed. One, wide bed. Singular.

And a small table with an empty basin on it, a narrow window with wooden slats, and a few blankets.

“But Mariella likes werewolves,” Valen says, brushing past me and entering. “She always gives me the best room.”

“You don’t say.” I follow him, study the peeling paint on the walls and the thin blankets folded on the bed.

“Laugh all you want. She had an encounter with one of us when she was younger.”

“An encounter on the street where they greeted each other…?” I walk over to the bed.

“A sexual encounter.”

“Ah.” My face burns. Am I the only virgin in the world? With Valen, sometimes it feels like it. “And then what happened?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Valen!” I sit on the hard mattress. “You make it sound like it was just sex, but she wouldn’t have told you about it if it hadn’t stayed with her.”

“Maybe it was just really good sex.”

“I don’t believe it. I think most people care about more than that.”

“Don’t knock sex until you try it.”

“No chance of that now,” I snap. “And you know what I mean.”

“Most people form an emotional connection with the person they’ve slept with,” he says softly. “I know.”

“But not you, obviously.”

“Oh no, never,” he says. “That would be a huge mistake. I know better.”

I harrumph, feeling like I’m about to explode into a thousand bats and fly through the small window to vanish in the gathering evening.

“In fact, when I slept with the daughter of the Red Forest Lord after one of my long hunts, I—”

“Stop.” I sigh. “I didn’t say I was interested to know of your adventures with girls.”

“What about boys? Stories where I bedded boys?”

“Or boys.” I lift a hand when he opens his mouth again, a twinkle in his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

“About sleeping with girls and boys? No.”

Gods. I have no idea why I feel so annoyed at the thought of him sleeping with anyone. At this point, even the thought of him sleeping in the same bed with a cat would upset me.

“I didn’t know I’d meet you, Princess,” he says more softly, “or I might have waited for you.”

“Ah…” I stare at him, aware that my eyes are round like saucers. “You would have?”

“Most fucking definitely, even though you’re not likely to let me fuck you, are you?”

I swallow hard, my throat closing. “Lord Eorl—”

“Fuck him.”

“You’d fuck both of us?” I tease, nervousness getting the better of me.

A dry chuckle escapes him. His broad shoulders shake. “Gods, Princess. I’ve corrupted your sparkling clean mind, haven’t I? That wasn’t what I meant, but if you’re into it…?”

I shake my head vehemently. “No. Not into it at all.”

“Many fae like threesomes and foursomes. I heard some humans like it, too. If you—”

“I’m not interested!”

“Good,” he growls, “because I’ve shared women and men before, but I wouldn’t ever be able to share you.”

Frowning, I open my mouth to demand he stops saying such things to me—things that get me all hot and bothered, aching in a way I feel only he could cure.

Things that make me want to touch him and explore his face, his chest, every part of him.

That possessiveness and protectiveness that characterize his every action, that’s what draws me to him.

That, and his otherworldly, insanely strong body, those lips, those eyes, that smirk… the way he touches me or looks at me…

“So…” He sits down on the bed beside me and leans back on his hands. “What do you think of our opulent apartment?”

“Well, I can’t help noticing,” I say, “that there is only one bed.”

He watches me, his gaze darkening. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’ll take the floor?”

“What? Of course not. The floor is cold, and the bed is huge. We both fit.”

“We don’t!” I glare at him. “The gentlemanly thing to do would be to take the floor.”

“But I’m no gentleman.” His long canines glint when he grins and cocks his head at me. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”

“You are. When it comes to other things, you are.”

“But not when it comes to what matters. Because I want you, girl, and I’d chuck my manners out this very window to spread you underneath me.”

A shiver travels down my spine. “You can’t keep saying things like that.”

“Saving yourself for your husband?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

He tips his head back, watching me from under his long lashes, and for some reason, that draws my gaze to his mouth. “Everything’s wrong with that. If you want me, why should you censor yourself?”

“I don’t want you.”

“Tell that to your scent. You smell of arousal, Sweetheart, and I’m willing to help you out.”

“Help me out? How?”

“Oh, that’s a loaded question.” He chuckles softly. “I can get you off. Show you how to take care of yourself. How to touch yourself properly. How to have the best orgasms.”

“Valen!”

“I’m sure any good husband would appreciate a woman who knows how to show him a good time. I know I would.”

Again, the thought of him with another woman makes me grit my teeth. This has to stop. I can’t keep feeling this way toward him.

“I’ll go ask for more blankets,” I say, getting up, “and a mattress. If you won’t sleep on the floor, then I will. I won’t sleep with any random man who accompanies me, if that’s what you think, even if you saved my life. If it’s a reward you wanted—”

“Reward?” He straightens on the bed, his gaze narrowing.

“From a woman who doesn’t even know what sex is?

You are too sheltered for a nobleman who’s had his pick of ladies all his life, and I’m not only talking about myself.

Do you really think this lord Eorl will be delighted that you don’t even know how to pleasure yourself, let alone him?

Do you think men want their wives virginal and blushing? ”

I jut my chin out. “What if he is?”

“What if he isn’t?”

“How dare you?” I seethe, insecurity rearing its ugly head, because what if he’s right?

What if Lord Eorl doesn’t like a woman who doesn’t know how to please him?

I can embroider and read, and even ride a horse to a point, but it’s true, I’ve been sheltered.

I never considered that I may be more sheltered than most women of my station due to my past. “He won’t expect me to be anything more than myself. I’m a noble lady, I—”

A knock on the door stops me mid-rant, leaving me deflated. It swings open, and a maid pokes her head in, the white cap on her head askew.

“My lord. We’re bringing up the tub for your bath, as well as the clothes you asked for.”

His gaze is still on me, but the annoyance seems to have been replaced with mirth in the brief moment I looked away. “Excellent. That was quick.”

“Anything for you, my lord,” she says, and my anger returns.

“She sounds like she knows you,” I say the moment she leaves, presumably to direct the men carrying the tub into our room.

“I’ve stayed here a few times,” he says nonchalantly.

“Like she really knows you.”

A pale brow goes up. “Are you asking me if I fucked her?”

“Crude,” I mutter.

“Indeed.” He smirks, still sitting on the bed, looking relaxed. “To answer your question, no, I haven’t.”

“But you come here often. Do you bring your paramours here?”

“Are you asking me if I fuck women in this inn?”

I wince. “There you go again, choosing to be crude.”

“Why are you interested in my sexual activities, Princess?”

“I’m not.”

“You could have fooled me,” he says quietly.

“No, but seriously.” I point a finger at him. “They are treating you like their favorite customer. Like royalty.”

“I’m from the Blue Star House. That’s almost the same thing.

My mother was famous for a prophecy she gave as a novice in the Temple, about a human girl who would turn out to be the bridge between dark fae and the rest of the world.

Of course, it didn’t come true.” His gaze shutters.

“That broke something inside her, I think. Got her involved with people she should have stayed away from.”

“Valen…” Is he thinking of the attack on my home?

The light shifts in his eyes. “But that’s not important. These are nice people. I doubt they’d have treated a prince any better.”

He’s right. He treats them well, and they treat him well right back. Give kindness and respect, and it will be returned to you. At home, the rules were ‘eat or be eaten,’ and ‘show no weakness or be bullied.’ But he isn’t like that.

“You look pensive,” he says, but then the door opens again, and two men enter carrying a large wooden tub, half-filled with water. Two maids follow, carrying pails of hot water which they pour inside, once the men place the tub by the window.

The maid from before follows, carrying a bundle of fabric. “The clothes, my lord. My lady.” She performs a hurried curtsy and places the bundle on the bed. “I have bathing sheets here, too. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” he says.

Polite. Respectful. Nice. This wolf is a nice person.

It shouldn’t hit me as hard as it does. I’ve seen it time and again since I met him. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to forget about it because it doesn’t mesh with my dark image of his kind I’ve kept for most of my life, and because…

Because it would feed my attraction to him.

He’s handsome, sure. Way too handsome. But kind, too? How am I supposed to defend myself against that? Kindness sneaks up on you, catches you unawares, and wraps you up in silken ropes. It ensnares you before you know it… and is that a bad thing?

Will Lord Eorl be as kind?

I chase the thought away because it makes no difference. I’m promised to him. He’s promised to me. He is my future. These doubts can’t govern me. So what if Valen is a sweet thorn in my heart? Soon he’ll leave, and I’ll never see him again.

Remember that, I tell myself sternly. Don’t attach yourself to a man who is bound to leave. A man—a fae—whose company you’re not supposed to like, let alone crave. You know that won’t end well.

It shouldn’t even be a consideration in the first place.

With a few more pails of water, the tub is filled, and the servants depart, closing the door behind them. They didn’t bat an eye at seeing a human lady with a dark fae man together in here. Do they think we’re married? Do they often get human-fae couples?

Have I really been so isolated from the world?

“Wait…” I turn to face him. “You say I’m not supposed to hold your hand, but it’s fine to be seen alone with you?”

“This inn is full of friends. Trusted people. They wouldn’t talk about me. And they don’t know who you are, Princess. Let’s keep it that way.”

“But…”

“If nobody knows your face and your name, what are they going to talk about? That I was seen with a dark-haired, blue-eyed lady? I’m sorry to inform you that your colors are not unusual among the humans or fae. There’s nothing so remarkable about you.”

His words cut like a blade. I bite my lip and try to control my emotions. I thought he found me… attractive, but now I’m not so sure. Could I have been so mistaken?

“Don’t worry about it,” he goes on, getting up from the bed and stretching his arms over his head. I realize I’m staring and look away.

“We will arrive at Lord Eorl’s house, and if he hears stories,” I say, “he will put two and two together.”

“Arriving with me would be enough to make him suspicious.”

“So what’s your solution?” I demand.

“Didn’t I tell you? I will, of course, leave your company before you reach the gates of the manor. I’ll make contact with my people beforehand. And I’ll go meet them as you go meet your husband. End of the story. End of the road.”

He has said so before, and yet, the pain is so visceral I stumble back a step. I can picture him in my mind’s eye walking away from me, and it already hurts. Gods, it hurts.

“What’s the matter?” His voice is sharp. He reaches for me. “Are you all right?”

I nod and step out of reach. “I’m fine.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides. “Fuck, look at you. Your eyes. Your mouth. Everything about you.”

“An unremarkable woman like me?” I throw his words back at him. “What about it?”

“I lied, Princess,” he says, his low, deep voice sending heat pooling in my belly, “I lied about not there being anything remarkable about you. You are, hands down, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Now the heat rises to my neck and cheeks. “I have scars,” I whisper.

“That little thing on your face?”

“There are more,” I admit.

“I knew there was a reason you always wear those high collars.” He winks. “Apart from being a bit of a prude, of course.”

“I’m not a prude.”

He chuckles, a deep, delicious sound I like despite my annoyance. “I thought to myself, why would anyone want to cover up any part of that gorgeous body? In the measure of the appropriate, of course.”

“You’re mocking me,” I breathe.

“No. I’m teasing you, trying to get you to open up. To show me what hurts you.”

“They are old scars,” I murmur. “They don’t really hurt anymore.”

“Scars will always hurt, Princess, and not only when it rains, and your skin pulls. The scars go all the way to your soul, am I right? Show me. And let me help.”

I swallow a whine. “How can you help?”

“They say touch heals.”

“Are you a healer?”

“No. I only know it to be true.” He steps closer to me, lifts a hand to my face, and my breath leaves my body. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel it?” My mind blanks out as his rough fingertips trace my cheekbone, my chin, my mouth. Such a warm hand—do werewolves really run hotter?—and so strong. Possessive.

Then he steps back with a curse, releasing me.

Leaving me again breathless.

And he starts stripping.