Heat rushes into my cheeks again. “You may leave.”
He rises to his feet, walks around the bed, and approaches me with slow steps that almost feel predatory. His gaze is heated, and I can’t be certain, but I think his leather pants are tighter at the front than usual. He comes to stand before me, and my heartskips a beat at the waves of longing that keep coming from him. Longing for me. I struggle to take my next breath.
He reaches for my face, and despite myself, I lean into his touch. My throat burns, and I’m not certain whether I’m feeling emotional because of his kindness or because he’s staring at me as though I truly matter to him. Perhaps it’s both.
I’ve never meant much to anyone outside my family. Not only was I afraid to get close to others, but my peers and even my neighbors found me odd. The strange, quiet girl who likes to collect maps and unusual trinkets and sit on the walls of Braemar and stare at the road leading away from the city.
I won’t lie. It’s nice to feel wanted. Even if it’s also scary. Even if the person who wants me is a powerful, highborn fae lord who owns me.
His visage softens before he leans down to place a kiss on my forehead. Gods help me, but I melt a thousand times over. A quiet sigh slips from my lips.
He straightens and retrieves his shirt at last. As he pulls it over his head, careful not to let his horns catch on the fabric, I notice the lingering reluctance in his movements. He wants to remain here with me. Not merely because he wants to watch me undress, but because he simply wants to stay close to me. My heart flutters at the realization.
Goodness. It’s becoming far too easy to sense his emotions and even fragments of specific thoughts. Not for the first time, I suspect that it isn’t just a result of the winter magic he used to heal me, but something more. Something I’m not yet brave enough to name.
As my thoughts whirl, I instinctively reach for the key hanging from my necklace, clutching it as though it will provide some measure of reassurance. Strangely, just touching the tarnished pendant helps steady my thoughts, even if only a little.
Merak studies me for a moment, his eyes following my hand. He draws in a quick breath, and I think he’s about to ask about the key, but then he hesitates and exhales slowly.
He strides toward the bedroom door before pausing. “Breakfast will be waiting whenever you are ready,” he says without turning around. “Take your time, my dearest.”
Then he leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
My hand finally falls from the pendant, the key I’ve worn around my neck for the last ten years. A wave of remembrance crashes over me when I think of the strange traveling merchant who gave me the necklace when I was just twelve years old.
The memory lingers, and for some reason, my chest tightens.
But I swallow hard and force my attention back to the present.
I stare at the mountain of boxes spread across the bed. At the beautiful dresses and the fur-lined slippers. At the midnight-blue cloak that probably costs more money than my family will ever see in one lifetime. And suddenly, I feel overwhelmed again. Tears also sting my eyes.
I visit the bathing room through a door that’s located in a corner of the bedroom, pleased to find it is just as well stocked as the one in the hallway, teeming with all the amenities I could ever need. I wash my face, clean my teeth, run a brush through my hair, and try to make myself presentable. I’m also stalling. I return to the bedroom and stare at the dresses, stockings, undergarments, shoes, and the cloak, feeling strangely like an imposter.
But I know Merak is waiting, so I begin trying everything on. Some of the items are a tad large, but nothing I couldn’t alter myself with a needle and thread. The midnight-blue dress fits perfectly, however, and I cannot resist twirling once before the floor-length mirror after putting it on.
I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me.
Surely no one from Braemar would know me, dressed like this. Not even my own family.
A distant knock sounds, followed by muffled voices, and I realize breakfast is probably being delivered. My stomach growls at the promise of food, and I turn toward the door while contemplating whether I’m truly prepared to face Merak again.
Even though this all still feels like too much, I know if I step out wearing the purple robe and go in search of my discarded clothing, assuming it’s still somewhere in the suite, the stubborn male will simply send me back to change into one of the new dresses.
Well, I might as well wear the blue gown I already have on, the one embroidered with silver thread that glimmers beautifully in the sunlight. After taking one final glance in the mirror and smoothing my hands nervously through my hair, I leave the bedroom.
I find Merak in the kitchen standing beside a table laden with boiled eggs, fried potatoes, fresh bread, sliced fruit, and some sort of roasted meat I cannot identify. My mouth waters, but I nearly forget the food altogether when Merak lifts his gaze to me.
He draws a sudden, sharp breath.
Then he simply stares.
The intensity of his expression prompts my face to grow heated. His dark eyes slowly travel over me, pausing on the gown, then my hair, then my face. The emotions rising within him strike me with so much force that I almost gasp. Admiration. Raw, primal lust. Reverence. Pride.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
“Gwen, you…” His voice comes out raspy. He swallows hard, momentarily robbed of words. “Gwen, my dearest, you look stunning.”
My face grows even hotter. “It’s just a dress.”
