Page 197 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Do not call me that,” I snarl, the reaction coming from somewhere deep within me.

He pulls me into his chest, his arms wrapping around my back. “Baby,” he soothes, and that endearment does something completely unexpected to me. The stranger started calling me princess this year, but I knew he was just trying to get under my skin. This sends a shock through me, the visceral sensation of rightness grounding me as I hear the emotion infused into the word.

I tip my head back to meet his gaze, and he lifts his hands to cup my cheeks. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” I exhale through some of my panic, allowing him to bring me back to myself.

“It’s me. Okay?”

I nod.

“Your stranger.”

I place my hands on his chest. “Fuck, I wish you could kiss me,” I say, sliding my hands over his chest. To distract me. To banish the thoughts from my mind. That kelpie called me Your Majesty. He said it straight to me, with recognition and a reverence that means he feels it. I bury my face against his chest, needing the comfort of him.

“I don’t want this,” I whisper, the words barely audible.

“Me?” he asks, and even though he wraps his arms around me, I can feel his entire body tense as if he is readying himself for a blow.

I pull back to look up at him, but I feel his hands tighten on me as if he is afraid I am going to run from him. “What? No, this whole Seelie bullshit.”

He scans my eyes, and his face softens. “I know. Great destinies are rarely given to those who want them.” He lifts his hand, and I immediately miss his hold on me, but then two oddly shaped runes on his palm catch the moonlight, flashing eerily in the dark. “When I was a child, a seer foresaw my future.” He looks at them, sadness filling his eyes. “My destiny is also great, but terrible as well.”

I’m desperate to ease his sadness away, and I lift my hand, pressing my palm to his. “Perhaps it’s time we take our destinies into our own hands. Refuse to conform to the higher beings who don’t have to face the consequences.”

“Fuck them all,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

I look at our hands pressed together, noticing how much smaller mine is against his, before I meet his intense gaze. “What do you want, Stranger?”

“What I’ve always wanted,” he says, his eyes dark. “You.”

There is danger in his words, but I’ve never wanted to run less.

I interlink our fingers. “Take me to your room.”

Chapter Eighty-Four

Summer

The warm sun fills the room, casting a yellow hue over the gentle, barely conscious space where I am drifting. I shift, and the muscular arms wrapped around me tighten a little.

Stranger.

He’s the warmth beneath me and the safety wrapped around me. He moans softly and buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. Neither of us is fully awake, both of us still clinging to the realm of sleep, possibly because we’re struggling to accept that this is real, that we’re here in bed together. He strokes his hand down my back and over my ass, cupping my thigh and pulling my leg over his hip as he rolls toward me. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to my neck before sinking his teeth into my flesh. I moan loudly when he flicks his tongue over the mark and grips my ass, pulling me closer. My eyes are still closed, but I am definitely awake now. So is he, and he has woken up with that insatiable need of his.

“Good morning, Stranger,” I moan, digging my nails into his chest a little. He growls, and I feel his erection throb against my hip. Fuck.

My eyes ping open, and I find him looking at me, his expression hiding none of his desire.

“Good morning, little fae,” he purrs, and I glance at his lips as his tongue darts out to wet them.

I swallow, my nails still embedded in his chest, leaving small white crescent shapes in his skin.

“Sleep well?” I ask, my voice deep with desire.

“Very.”

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say after clearing my throat, but he tightens his arms around me, holding me closer.