Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ROSAMUND
I’m so aroused. I’ve never ached so much inside before. I need his touch so much I want to cry, I need… need him where I burn.
But I told him not to touch him, need him not to touch me, and this contradiction is tearing me apart.
How can my body exact something when my mind tells me I shouldn’t give in?
I’ve never been pulled in two directions like this before.
Growing up, I knew what I had to do, where I stood, and what was in store for me.
Despite the nightmares and scars, I knew there were ground rules, and if I followed them, I’d probably be all right.
Those rules were thrown out of the window the moment I ran away with Valen and didn’t return. I couldn’t return, that’s the truth, not with my family waiting to kill me, but the end result is the same: my world has been turned upside down once more, and I don’t know where I stand.
Of course you do. You should stop touching him. You should get dressed. You should put distance between yourself and this werewolf. As you very well know.
But his rock-hard chest is irresistible.
Partly it’s because it’s such a male, absolutely male chest, the exact opposite of mine.
His pectorals are like bricks, his nipples so small and hard, his stomach chiseled, his ribcage twice as wide as mine.
And then lower, his waist dips and his hips are narrow, unlike mine, and…
And yeah, let’s stop pretending I’m not fascinated by his cock. I wouldn’t know whether all cocks are like his, so large, so thick, so veined and curved, but I do know that most men don’t have metal in their cocks.
Della would have told me if so, surely?
I mean, men—and women—generally don’t have metal in their tongues, either, be they human or fae. As far as I know.
Which… now that I realize how much I don’t know, is a bit of a concern.
“Woman…” He sounds like he’s in pain. His face is contorted, lips pulled back. “Don’t tease.”
“Said by the great teaser,” I mutter, distracted, because when I tap my fingers on the silver again, I see his teeth gritting. A hiss escapes him. “My toying with this metal bar hurts you.”
“In the best way,” he says.
“What does that mean? What should I do?”
“Toying… is a good start,” he pants. “Sex is a game. You play with your partner’s body to see what they like. As you’re doing.”
“So I should… continue?” Curious, I pull on the metal a little, and he hisses again. Interesting. Then I decide to trail my fingers down the thick length of him to his balls, and his hips jerk up. “Is this good or bad?”
“Fuck, it’s good… so good. If you just wrap your fingers around… Godsdammit!”
My fingers have wrapped around his cock, near the base. They can’t contain it. It’s much wider here, as if inflated, and—
A knock shakes the door. “My lord! My lady!”
“Fuck,” he says with feeling, “fuck!”
“Who is that?” I find myself reluctant to stop my exploration.
“Dinner,” he mutters. Then he shouts, “Leave the tray outside the door! Just leave it there!”
The outside world has come knocking. Intruding into this bubble where everything feels possible and easy. I release his cock and scoot back in the tub.
He turns back to me. “Now, he says, where were we? Oh, yes.” His eyes smolder like embers. “You were using me to learn about men’s bodies.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, rising from the water of the tub and stepping outside. “I’m sorry.”
Wrapped in the bathing sheet, I sit on the bed. He sits down beside me and places the tray between us. He has wrapped the bathing sheet around his hips, leaving his torso bare. It’s a chore to keep my gaze off it.
Off any part of him, from his striking face, to all that tanned skin and the sheet hiding what I now know is there, between his legs.
The memory of teasing his cock, holding it, his groaning and hissing as I played with his erection, is a torment.
I want to find the bravery in me to touch him again, to pick up where I left off, but the moment has passed.
Now we’re both wrapped in our sheets, and the food sits between us.
I thought I was starving before, but now my appetite is gone, despite the aromas of stew and warm bread coming from the bowls on the tray.
My body is awake and hungry for something else.
Our gazes collide over the tray. His eyes are burning gold, his gaze cutting like a knife. “Eat,” he says. “You need sustenance.”
“So do you.”
“This isn’t much for a wolf.”
“And you haven’t been eating more than me on this journey,” I insist, almost desperately, needing to avoid the other conversation, the one about what we did in the tub.
So we eat together. His grin is as sharp as his gaze. He lifts the carafe from the tray and pours wine into the two clay cups that came with it. “Here.”
I take the cup from him, and we nod at each other.
“Partners in crime,” he says.
“Whatever that means.”
“Just two companions on this journey.” He clinks his cup against mine and takes a sip. “Hm… delicious.”
“Is it?” I sip at my wine and choke. “Gah. This is terrible. It’s like vinegar.”
He laughs. “Your face… Enjoy the adventure, Princess. This is what the poorer classes drink.”
“It must help with digestion,” I grumble, putting the cup down. “What are you so happy about?”
“This, sitting here with you to eat and drink? It’s a treat.” His voice goes quiet, and his gaze drops to the bowls on the tray. “Being with you is a treat.”
My throat closes. A terrible sadness comes over me, a longing for something I can’t have, a nostalgia for something I’ve never experienced.
Being with Valen. Staying with Valen.
It’s not possible, and we both know it. We come from different worlds, even though we live in the same place, even though I’ll be able to see the mountains where the dark fae live from Lord Eorl’s manor.
I’ll stare and imagine being with him and miss him. Gods, I’ll miss him.
What’s wrong with me? I’m about to start bawling into my stew over a future that hasn’t yet arrived.
“Princess?” When I look up, I find concern in those golden eyes. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I lie. “Perfect.”
“Sorry about the wine.”
“The wine is fine.” I smile my most convincing smile and take another sip. “Let’s eat.”
“Yeah, let’s.” He smiles back, and the flash of his sharp canines has me shivering. A strangely pleasant shiver. “I’m ready for bed.”
And… that brings us back to the issue of having a single bed… for both of us.