Page 18 of Of Masks and Fury

“Swear it.”

“I do. I promise.”

“I understand why you left.” His jaw clenched. “I even understand why you didn’t tell me. If our positions were reversed…” He closed his eyes before opening them again, the anger in them softening, fracturing under the weight of the fear that still clung to him. “I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Then why are you so angry?”

“Because understanding doesn’t make it hurt less. Because I still woke up alone. I still spent days convinced you could be dead. I still felt every moment of powerlessness.” He cupped my face, tilting it up to meet my eyes. “You made the right choice, and it nearly destroyed me. Both things are true.”

Something inside him broke, and his mouth crashed down on mine.

I gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound, kissing me like a man drowning. His hands were in my hair, tilting my head back, and I grabbed his shoulders, pulling him closer, trying to eliminate even the whisper of space between us.

This was what I’d been missing. This man alone.

He tasted like mint and something darker, and I couldn’t get enough. My fingers found the stupid sandy-brown hair and pulled, wanting to feel the dark silk I knew was underneath the disguise.

“Missed you,” he growled against my mouth. “Missed you so fucking much.”

“I’m here.”

We’d found each other across kingdoms, across disguises and deceptions. I stroked the unfamiliar planes of his altered face, seeking and finding the man I knew beneath the mask.

“I would know you blind,” I whispered against his mouth. “I would know you in darkness. I would know you in death.”

He pulled back enough to look at me, studying my face like he was memorizing it, like he was afraid I might disappear again if he looked away. Then his gaze dropped lower, tracking down my throat to the neckline of my gown.

“I need—” His voice was rough, barely controlled. “I need to touch you. Need to know you’re real.”

The days without him had carved hollows inside me that ached to be filled with him again. His hands trembled against my waist, betraying how thinly his control stretched, how desperately he needed to reclaim what fear had convinced him he’d lost.

“Yes.” The word came out breathless.

His hands went to my waist, then lower, gathering fistfuls of my skirts. He dropped to his knees in front of me, looking up through his thick lashes with an expression that made my core clench.

“You. Are. Mine. You don’t get to martyr yourself without me, Minx. When I’m finished, you will understand what you put me through. You’re going to scream my name but only when I tell you.”

He bunched my skirts higher, his knuckles rough on my thighs.

A twist of his fingers under the fabric, and he tore through my undergarment, tossing the shreds away.

I could refuse this. Could tell him I’d made an impossible choice and wouldn’t be punished for it. I swallowed, my voice steady despite the heat. “I chose Addie. I’d choose her again.”

But I saw the fear still haunting his eyes, the tremor in his hands that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with terror barely contained.

He didn’t need my defiance right now. He needed my trust and love.

I’d do it again. Even knowing it would hurt him, even knowing I’d end up here, desperate and trembling against a door while he proved he could unmake me.

I’d still choose Addie. Still choose to protect him.

But I’d also choose to give him what he needed in the aftermath. To let him reclaim what fear had taken.

When he looked up, his gaze had gone feral. “Spread your legs and show me what’s mine.”

CHAPTER SIX

TREW