“Bet you’ll never drink Aternian Absinthe again, will you, kitten?”
Maeve didn’t answer. She draped her arm over her eyes and groaned.
It wasn’t long before she felt the cool satin sheets of her bed. She didn’t fight him as he set her down. She took a deep breath as her focus settled. Reeve stepped back, but Maeve’s hand shot out towards him, gripping the hem of his shirt.
She shifted her knees beneath her on the edge of the bed and tugged him towards her. He yielded the step, but his hand moved slowly to her fingers and peeled them away from the fabric, holding them in his large hand. He caressed the tops of each knuckle. She looked up at him, her mouth parted and her eyes inviting.
He scanned her face for a moment and shook his head gently. “Not like this.”
Maeve swallowed hard and tensed. The rejection slammed into her like a punch to the gut. She yanked her hand from his. Reeve’s face was soft as he took her chin in his hand and held her firmly, forcing her gaze up at him.
“Do not misunderstand, Maeve. I want you to remember every little detail when I bed you.”
His fingers pressed against her temple, and a warm night's breeze sent her to sleep.
Chapter 39
Her morning was quiet. Reeve was not present in the dining hall, but there was a note by her breakfast spread that expressed she needed to be ready by noon for their journey. Upon reading his words and remembering his promise to take her with him, she realized the entire affair had certainly not been a dream or a hallucination.
She nursed the raging hangover that ached through her body, unaccustomed to such a feeling as her mind slipped into what might have been if he hadn’t said no.
Immortals were different in every way. Their bodies were taller, their shoulders broader. They were physically stronger. Larger. If he could control his dragon shift—
She suddenly remembered all those books Lavinia had given her at Vaukore.
She scolded herself under her breath for thinking such unimportant thoughts.
But. . .
He had not rejected her, not totally.
“Are you hungover?” Zimsy’s musical voice drew her away from her thoughts of Reeve. Thoughts that, if he could see, would have his head exploding with ego.
“Yes,” said Maeve, not bothering to hide from Zimsy, not that she could.
Zimsy’s eyes grew large.
“Zim, I’ve already been lectured. I don’t need another one,” said Maeve.
“I don’t lecture you,” she replied, stacking pancakes on her plate.
Maeve looked around, her brows pulling together. “Um. What?”
“There’s a difference between telling you what I think you should do and lecturing you.”
“No, there is not. The literal definition of lecture—”
“You really should eat your breakfast,” said Zimsy casually, slicing her pancakes into triangles. “You need to regain your strength. The food here is so terrible, I don’t know how you didn’t starve.”
While the food in Aterna wasn’t as abysmal as Zimsy claimed, she was right about one thing: nothing compared to Zimsy’s cooking. And so Maeve didn’t argue. She ate her breakfast and met Reeve at the edge of the Black Deep, just outside the palace.
“You don’t look nearly as bad as I was expecting.”
Maeve frowned at Reeve. It didn’t affect him. His hair was pulled back messily as he strode towards her. The under shave she, only hours ago, had visualized running her fingers across—
“Did you sleep well?” he asked wickedly.
She regretted ever taking a single sip of that vile drink she’d lifted from his stash.
