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“What?” My voice comes out too rough, too harsh. I can’t help it. It’s as though I’ve been zapped by whatever mind-scrambling power she was talking about earlier. After the massive misunderstanding a century ago and my fears tonight, I don’t want to risk sending our future queen screaming because I led with my cock instead of my brain. Please gods, tell me I heard her right, and if the Fates believe in second chances, let me earn a shot at being Rosemarie’s mate. “I’m going to need you to run that by me one more time.”
21
ROSEMARIE
STRENGTH: YOU HAVE THE INNER STRENGTH TO TAME THE FIERCEST OF BEASTS.
But Never Forget You’re Dealing With A Lion, Not a Housecat.
Asking Jace to get naked isn’t going as planned.
Not at all.
After our kiss and my little temper striptease earlier, I’d thought he’d be down to get naked upon request. But maybe not. Or maybe…a worry hits my mind even as cool air hits my skin where my translator used to be.
“Does strip not translate without the wristband thing?” I ask Atticus.
Jace steps into my line of sight, blocking my view of the other gargoyle in the room, no easy feat given how big they both are. “Oh, it translates just fine.”
The near growl in his voice has me shivering, and not from the cold. “Then?—”
“Why are you suddenly demanding I take off my clothes?” He stalks me like prey, and damn, if I don’t suddenly feel like running to see if he’ll chase. But I saw how he went after the wyvern. I’m not starting a game when the rules might get lost in the lack of translation.
“Runes.” I have to force the word out. My throat has gone dry even as I squeeze my thighs together because I don’t have the same problem down there. “I need you to mark me with the runes.”
“Runes are permanent, love.”
My heart flips, and my toes curl.
I need him to call me that again.
He narrows his eyes, and I want to melt under the weight of his gaze as it travels from my face to my feet and back again. What’s he waiting for? Oh, right, an answer to the permanent part of what he said, not the more important endearment. I lift my chin so I can stare right back. “I know. I’m in this to win.” I keep it to myself for now that I mean to win the title of queen, the responsibility of the Bridge, and gargoyle twins if I can have everything.
“You’ll stay if you win?” He inches closer, the shiny charm dangling from his fingertips not distracting from all the muscles on display.
Yep, he’s definitely stalking me. If the talk with him about their past loss taught me anything, it’s that I need to make my intentions clear. “I need you as much as you think you need me.”
“There’s no think about this, love.” Gone is my gentle, fun-loving gargoyle. The take no prisoners savagery in his expression almost makes me feel sorry for the wyvern he fought earlier. I don’t dare move. Hell, I barely breathe. He pins me with a look. “Be sure before you commit to forever. Because we’re already sure of you.”
Forget the hot bath. Jace’s words send heat flashing through me. Doubt creeps over his features, and I want to chase it away.
“I’m not running,” I tell him. “Can you say the same?”
The edge to my words nicks like a blade, and I immediately feel bad for whatever hurt they may cause, but I’m not her. Whatever happened at the coronation with their last candidate, it won’t happen with me. As Atticus said, together we can find a way to make this work. All of it.
Jace doesn’t withdraw. No, his grin turns feral, the flash of fangs enough to make my heart speed up. With fear? Maybe. But the memory of those sharp canines against my tongue—that’s what has me reacting. I need him. I need both of them. If this is part of the fated mates thing he talked about, I guess I’m all in. Or at least my body is.
“Then let’s get started on your plan,” he says and moves toward the shower. “But I won’t touch you until I clean the wyvern venom off.”
Atticus flicks his claws through the bath water, checking the temperature before turning off the taps. “I’ll see to the setup for the rune ritual, and be back in a few. You all right?” he asks me.
Nope. I’m overloaded from landing in a realm of strangeness, being outfitted by a Spidress earlier, and having Cutter try to attack me before my mind took a nightmarish trip on dark magic. My more immediate obsession is that I’m turned on by these two who make me feel safe, cherished, and sexier than ever before. Not that I’m sharing any of those thoughts.
Instead, I swallow and nod, digging my fingers into the blanket pulled tight around me as if that might hide the fact that my nipples are poking against the fabric like my boobs have taken on a mind of their own and beg to be touched.
The room with its separate shower big enough for six people and freestanding tub with cutouts for wings had seemed gigantic when Atticus first carried me in here. The two of them fill the space even with their wings tucked. I can’t decide if it’s cozy or claustrophobic. My skin feels too tight, and my every nerve tingles.
Jace turns his broad back to me, his wings covering most of his muscles until they taper to his waist. With unhurried movements that hint of far more intimacy between us than a single kiss, he unfastens his pants. I glance down, not bold enough to stare while he strips, but my gaze snags where his pants stop above the ankles. Damn, even his calves have muscles, and I’m suddenly self-conscious of how small, narrow, and human my feet look compared to his claws. The swish and plop of fabric have me jumping.
