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He lifted the bottle to his lips and this time when he lowered it, we both swayed a little.
“I have… requested that Illya pay a visit.” Dagda cleared his throat. “It seems that he has more he needs to explain—perhaps to both of us. He will be here by the morning. Do you… wish to meet with him?" He raised his eyebrows.
I gave a curt nod and thought about how nice it would be to lean my forehead against his strong chest.
“Good. Good.” The crown that had rested on his head all day slipped and tumbled to the marble floor. He just stared at it before taking another drink. A lock of stray hair fell across his face as his gaze settled on the hangings around my bed.
“Is there… something else?”
He took yet another drink and when he looked at me it was with fierce, determined eyes. “After what happened with Badb, I had to explain your current…conditionto the court.”
Something dark curled in my chest. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I had little choice.”
My legs gave, dragging us downward. Dagda staggered to the bed, then laid me against its covers. He stayed pressed up against me as if it hadn’t occurred to him to step back. Or perhaps because my body pinned his arm beneath me.
“You… are not nice. You kidnap me, you take my power away in front of the court… Those things are not nice.” I reach up and try to slap him, but find myself running my fingers over the stubble on his cheek and chin.
“Drink,” I whispered.
Dagda obeyed. “After you—Badb left… the court was in disarray.” His voice sounded unusually slow and deliberate. “It was my only chance to get them under control... And to guard against future attempts by your sisters to start a war.”
“And that leaves me with what, exactly?” I ran a knuckle over his stubbled skin.
His eyes sparked with something wild and deep. “You said… you did not wish… to be queen.”
I sensed a struggle in him. A struggle he was losing.
“That’s what you want. Control. You—want to control me, the court…everything,” I murmured. The warmth of his body pressed against mine, shoving against my breasts, into my hips. All I could think about was how I wanted him to press harder. I traced a finger over his chiseled jawline. “Drink.”
He drank. “I told you,” he said, and I smelled the alcohol on his breath. “You are not a prisoner.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Dagda spoke in a low voice. “I was trying to protect our people… I thought you would agree… that is first priority.”
“And why would you think that?” I curled a finger in his hair, a constant circular motion. The rapid rise and fall of his chest from his uneven breaths rubbed against my own. “Why should I give a damn about you or this kingdom?” The words were the closest I’d come to an admission of what was going to happen. What I really was to this kingdom.
I would bring this world to its knees, and then walk away to save my skin.
Dagda’s voice came gentle. “Because you are one of us.”
“Drink.”
He did. The bottle gave a dull thud as he dropped it, empty, onto the floor.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this.” I had both hands up now, running over his face and into his hair.
Dagda’s free hand cupped my head while he let out a soft moan.
“Where have you wanted to touch me?” I asked.
His eyes became tinged with darkness. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
“Why?”
He drew his thumb ever so slowly over my own cheekbone. “Because what I want to do to you is a hell of a lot more than touching your face.”
