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“One of my better qualities.”
King Windre rubbed his palms together watching and waiting. He wanted me to be the better person, to do what was right even if it cost me. Was I the person he thought I was?
Chapter19
Ryker
Reading in bed hurt my back.
I glanced up from my book, heavily submerged in the long history of witches and what was thought to be their origins. There were the simple chairs I could prop myself up in, but the book was so large it would likely slip right off my lap. Maybe I could sneak back to the library? Was it safe…no. Had I promised Dace I would stay…yes.
Damn it.
On the plus side, I was wrapped up like a swaddled baby in this blanket and it was pleasantly warm. Dace’s scent still lingered on the blankets, fresh as if he had just gotten up from this spot. Since the claiming bite, I’d become more aware of the bits of him he left behind when he was gone. Like his scent.
I snuggled my nose into the blanket, breathing in deeply. Home. The thought struck me like lightning, blinding then disappearing with a cracking boom to my conscience. Dace, his smell, he was home to me.
Smiling, I dipped my head lower again.Ryker, you stupid bitch, you’re healing. And the questions and the fears of being queen, of submerging myself in the unknown, felt less scary. Really, my whole life had been unknown territory after unknown territory. Tossing myself to the wolves, running into the wind, I should have gotten used to it by now.
Maybe it felt more right because marrying Dace would bring a sort of stability to my life. That was new.
“Good evening, King Dace,” the guards outside the door said. Their voices caught my ears, and I lowered the book, sticking my finger between the pages to hold my spot.
Quietly, the door opened. Dace’s silver-blue gaze traveled the room, no doubt looking for me. A chuckle passed over his lips as he saw me wearing the blanket like a shawl, pulled tight over my head and wrapped down around my shoulders.
His shoulders slumped forward, his tousled hair a telltale sign of his frustration. The door clicked shut behind him, his boots dragging sluggishly against the floor. Air wheezed out of the chair cushions as he dropped down with a groan.
“You look like you were attacked by an assassin and then dragged into a very boring meeting,” I said plainly.
“Sounds about right.” He tilted his chin up, letting his head rest against the back of the seat. His eyes closed. Dace was a habitual creature. I wondered if he knew it. I only found it more attractive that I would always know what to expect from him. Was he cranky and overwhelmed? He wouldn’t be able to make it to the bed when he got to his room. Chair first. Also a lot of deep sighs. Next, he’d take off his boots.
Practically reading my mind, he groaned, leaning forward and started undoing his laces. The rubber thudded against the floor as he kicked them off.
“Want to talk about it?” I set the book aside, the spine creasing from the position it lay open in.
“Won't you get tired of hearing my grievances?” He smiled, extending his arms toward me, his fingers grasping at the air, like a child seeking comfort.
My skin tingled, eager for his touch. A beaming, uncontrolled grin lifted my lips. Cool air covered me as I flung the blankets off. My sock covered feet slid as they hit the floor. I steadied myself against the post of the bed, padding over to him.
Instead of curling into his lap the way I wanted, I walked behind him. Gripping his shoulders, I worked my fingers in tight circles. Every muscle felt stiff as bone. They remained tense even as I worked to relax them.
Lowering myself to his ear, the back of the chair pressed against my rib cage, I asked, “How’d the meeting go?”
“Fine enough, I suppose.” He cocked his head, allowing me further access to knots. “You know I could call someone else in for this, I don’t expect you to serve me like that.”
“It’s not the same.” My voice was hushed. “I’m not a servant massaging away the woes of an oppressive ruler. I’m a woman expressing my love.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s…nice,” he said slowly.
“The massage or...?”
Dace looked up, his expression uncertain. “The massage is good, I’ll admit you have great hands, but I meant this feeling.”
“Being loved?” I laughed lightly, lowering myself to kiss his forehead.
