“Since you don’t need my help, you can go stay elsewhere. I can recommend a lodging down on Svin Square. A rather shady part of the capital city, but they accept other forms of payment besides gold. Since you don’t have access to any of your gold. And even if you did, they don’t accept gold mined on Earth.”
Maeve let out a laugh that didn’t meet her eyes. “I suppose you expect me on my knees thanking you for your generosity in hosting me.”
That damn smile blossomed across his face. “It would be an honor to see you on your knees, Maeve,” purred Reeve.
A playful glimmer danced across his firelight eyes as his head cocked to the side.
Maeve wouldn’t let herself think about those eyes.
“Move,” she said.
“No.”
“Move.”
“Make me.”
Maeve rolled her eyes. She sighed and relaxed against the wall. Something shifted in Reeve’s expression as her body softened. She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at the ornate ceiling overhanging the balcony. It was much like the painted ceilings at home. Plant life and fire-breathing creatures of lore decorated the landscape above. Swirling vines danced together in shades of green, intertwining much like the creatures.
She’d give anything to see the painted tapestries at Sinclair Estates. To push open those double doors and be greeted by soft-blue eyes.
“How do you do it?” she asked. “Why do you do it? Turn into one of them, I mean.” She nodded up at the ceiling.
Reeve was silent for a moment, his arms still caging her in. Then, “You really want to know?”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed.
Reeve’s own eyes never left her until she returned her attention to him. His playful demeanor was gone, but his voice was calm.
“Then you’re in luck. I am traveling to the very place I first transformed tomorrow.”
Maeve’s chest rose and fell. She squinted one eye as her vision of him blurred beneath the effects of alcohol. “And you’ll take me with you?”
“I will on one condition,” he answered, his brow raising.
“And what’s that?”
“No complaining. Not about how heavy your body feels, or the pounding in your head, or how your body feels like someone rang it out like a rag—”
“I will be fine tomorrow,” she argued, shifting on her feet.
A small chuckle vibrated in his throat. “You’ll be hungover tomorrow,” he corrected.
“You could fix that with a snap of your fingers,” she said, tilting her chin up at him.
“But you don’t need my help,” he hummed. “Right?”
Maeve couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. She shook her head and looked away, her eyelids feeling heavy. Damn his charm.
He angled his head to the side, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. “No drinking yourself into nothing. That is not the path I intend to see you on.”
The violet flames dancing along the walls rippled across his face, across the strong features that suited him as the warrior he was. One she knew didn’t hide from the front lines in battle, and had very little interest in court affairs beyond protecting his home and his people.
Nothing quite so striking had ever shown her so much warmth. Mal had always been icy, cool, and refreshing. This was something begging, pleading, to be awakened in fire.
The darkness inside him lay a moment away, ready to snap to action at his call. The raw power of the gods. A storm ready to be unleashed.
She wondered what his skin would feel like against hers. What her pale hands would look like against his tan cheeks. Would she at once feel shame and fear as their skin made contact? Would a hundred baths not be enough to erase the grime from her?
