My hand slips to the silver pins at my waist, but Soren growls again, closing the gap between us faster than my eyes can track. He snatches my wrist tightly to pull me back up. That would be bad enough, only he drags me toward himself the moment I’m steady, my hand hovering far too close to the expanse of hischest, now bared to the waist. There’s a thatching of scars over his ribs, like talons tore at him, and marring on a high fae is rare enough that it’s likely the injury nearly killed him.
My own scars are in the same spot, though mine wrap further around my body and the skin there shines with magic that defies reason.
I swallow around the lump in my throat and whisper to mask the thready quality of my voice, my mouth arid. "I thought you’d want to move with haste to get back to the soldiers’ protections, but I can wait until you're done, if you prefer."
He loosens his hand around my wrist, but he doesn't move away, his fingers tracing the slit of my sleeve up to my elbow in a languid caress. My breath catches in my chest. He reaches up with his other hand to touch the pin at my waist, the tines loose where I’d begun to pry at it, and without hesitation he tugs it free. When I finally look up to meet his gaze, his eyes darken, and his chest expands with each breath until he’s looming over me like I’m prey.
“I’m already at the limits of my control—don’t turn away from me now.”
The rasping tone is drenched with need and chill is burned from my bones in an instant, my gut warming and my knees threatening to buckle underneath me, but he refuses to let me go, his gaze unflinching holding mine. The icy depths of his eyes have turned molten, burning bright as they threaten to consume me in their heat, but my blood is already alight.
Flexing my hand to let his drop, I shift away from him to pull out the rest of the pins until I have a fistful of them and the fabric straps have loosened. My hand brushes the skin of my belly and the band of roughly mottled skin that wraps around it, a sobering reminder of exactly what I'm unveiling for this perfect high fae prince. He’s carved as if from marble, and the most exquisite of all their designs. I haven't kissed the male yet, norlearned whether he holds any true affection for me. He could see the wreckage laid before him and scorn me once more.
Whatever lust is on my face, he sees something else there too, my hesitance peeking through, and he grips the side of my neck with the same ferocity with which he’d lunged at me when we were reunited only hours ago and pulls me in to meet his lips.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Soren
The thick bands of scars around Rooke's stomach explain much of the horror that leached into Airlie and Firna's voices but seeing the proof of just how close my Fates-blessed mate once was to the monsters of the Fates is sickening. My magic pushes out towards the injury as though compelled, feeling the magic still woven beneath the surface that holds her together and a gut-wrenching truth ripples through me; her body will never truly heal from the wound and the magic alone keeps her alive. I don't understand how I know it but Rooke shouldn’t be standing before me now, no one survives what she has.
She’s shy about them and it’s unsettling to see her act that way. My calm and humble mate, who stands unmoved by the petty games of royals or the raw realities of the deathbed, refuses to meet my eyes now I've seen the damage she bears from the war. When she finally steps out of the thick bands of fabric to stride into the hot springs, she doesn’t wait to see if I'll join her or if I'll turn away in disgust but the Fates themselves couldn’t pry my gaze away from her.
She doesn't look back to watch me undress as I'd watched her, instead ducking under the water to swim in the small area of the deeper pool. The moonlight shines on her skin under the surface, drawing me towards her as the Fates have tugged at me this entire time. As she resurfaces, her hair shining down her back and her eyes shut as droplets of water in her eyelashes, a soft smile curves across her plump lips and there’s color in her cheeks with the warmth of the springs. I've never seen such an enthralling sight.
I want her with a desire that shakes the ancient power in my bloodlines. From the moment I accepted not only her true motives but my own fate to be with her, I accepted that I craved this witch with every drop of my blood. She’s nothing like the high fae I’ve spent so many centuries enduring, an unquestionably noble and powerful fae from a forest of madness that covets her the way I now covet her. Any fears she may have about my desires for her changing after her scars were revealed to me are unfounded; the only thing they've done spurned me on. To know how close we were to ruin only drives me to ensure she never gets that close again.
I slide into the pool in the same spot she did and finally she turns back to me, her eyes fluttering open and her face carefully expressionless. It's not just the wall between our mind connection that’s gone up, her defenses have as well, piecing herself back together to be sure that if I scorn her now she’ll still be able to walk the path set before her. Such is the strength of my Fates-blessed mate.
The reflection of the moon stretches between us like a path laid out in white, but when I move towards her in the water she turns away again, swimming to the ledge and a vial of oil appears in her hand. The scent she usually wears drifts in the warm air between us as she rubs the oils into her skin, scoopingup handfuls of the water to wash it away again until her skin is shining.
"I see you haven't set out your own soaps. I'm not sure you'll enjoy smelling of violets and cloves."
The rasp of her voice, pitched low threatens to be my unraveling and victory lights my blood when she doesn't move away my approach. I can stand easily in the pool, the water not yet reaching my chest but she has to stand on one of the flat stones to have it lapping at her collarbones. When I lean towards her to take the vial a shiver runs down her spine, a soft sigh slipping out of her lips, and through the clear water I watch as her nipples tighten.
"I only want to smell of my mate, though I can think of far better ways to achieve that."
Shivering again at the rough rasp of my voice, she lets out a shuddering breath and watches as I tip the oil into my palm. She stares transfixed at me rubbing it over my chest and arms just as I’ve been. When her tongue peaks out to swipe against her bottom lip, a growl rumbles out of my throat and her eyes flare at the sound, leaning closer as though compelled.
There’s far more dirt over me than there ever was on her, and it takes twice as long to get myself clean but when she moves to wash out her hair, her back arches and my body turns to stone as I watch her. Each time she lifts her arms threatens to expose her nipples to the chilled air but each time they get close she shifts to keep them under until I'm sure she's teasing me with them on purpose.
As I bend to duck my own head under the water to scrub at the dust of the dungeons still clinging to my hair, she speaks again. "It’s a relief to know we’ll survive the winter solstice without too many concerns, I did have my doubts. I know I'm not to your tastes."
Stopping my actions now will only lead to oils running into my eyes, so I'm forced to continue scrubbing rather than ducking my head back under the water. "What would you know of my tastes? You've never asked me and I’m starting to think your vision is impaired."
Her mouth hardens and the look she gives me is the same frustration she usually reserves for high fae stupidity. "I dined with a lot of Sari’s friends in Yris; one of them was Lady Loreth."
I could curse myself and my cousin and half the Unseelie Court to the ashes at the careful tone she’s now using with me. I slick my hair back just enough to be sure I'm not going to end up blinded by my refusal to duck my head back under to wash it out, but I have no intentions of letting Rooke think I'm avoiding this topic.
"One female Ibrieflydistracted myself with in the centuries the Fates demanded my patience doesn't tell you a thing of my tastes."
She raises an eyebrow at me. "You're right, I should’ve asked Sari to point out any others to be sure.“
When I don't have an answer for her, she turns back to me with an expectant look. "Are you not concerned with my tastes?"
I grit my teeth, aware the sharp points of them will peak through with every word bitten out of my mouth but I can't contain the snarl. "If you want any male you've ever stood in the presence of to live you won't speak to me ofanyof them."
She raises an eyebrow at me again, only this time the corner of her mouth tugs upwards along with it. “That doesn't seem very wise, Soren, nor fair, especially since I had to sit through several meals of antagonization without responding."
