Page 92 of Destined for the Fae King

Warmth spreads out from my chest, and suddenly I wonder if I made a terrible mistake rushing over here. How will I ever stay away from him? I turn away. Because if I don’t, I’m going to end up trying to jump on him again.

“Sorry I just rushed over. I should have given you time to change at least.” It doesn’t matter that he reeks of sweat and worse. I have a feeling I’ll want him in any condition, which doesn’t bode well for our future, if his visions hold true.

“I’m glad you did,” he says.

The heat in my chest sinks lower. “Well, now that I know you’re safe, I can give you time to change and wash.”

I head toward the door but make it only a step before he says, “Stay.”

I stop and look back.

“Please.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Okay.”

“Wait here. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Lysandir heads through an adjacent door and into the attached washroom. Our rooms seem to muffle noise from the outside—a nice perk—but not so much from the washroombecause I hear the clink and clack of metal as he removes his armor then the running of water for a bath.

Truth is, I’m terrible at waiting. Always have been. My family might think otherwise, given how long it actually took me to get to Faery, but I had reasons for waiting then.

Now, I can think of many more reasons not to wait.

I listen by the door until the water stops and I hear the soft splash of him entering the tub. That alone is enough to create an ache between my legs and almost has me drooling, but I pull myself together. The tub should give him some semblance of privacy if he hates my idea, but I don’t think he will.

I crack open the door and step inside.

Lysandir startles, twisting my way in the wide stone tub. “Mira.”

My heart nearly stops. I’ve always found him attractive. From the very first moment I saw him, and even before, when I first saw a portrait of him. No one could doubt that. But what I hadn’t fully considered is how he’d look unclothed. And to say that clothes don’t do him justice is an understatement. A fine smattering of dark red hair dusts the hard planes of his chest. He grips the edge of the tub, cut muscles of his biceps flexing. His hair is loose and already wet from being dunked under the water. It hangs just past his shoulders, trailing little rivers of water across his golden skin.

“I…” Everything I’d planned to say has vanished straight out of my head. “I thought I’d see if you need some help?”

I fight the urge to slap my hand across my face and duck back out of the room.

Way to play it cool and sexy, Mira.

A low chuckle slips from his lips as he releases the rim and leans back in the tub. “And here I’d planned to bathe quickly.”

I nearly whimper at that sound and press my legs together to stifle the ache there. “The water,” I say. “I mean, I thought the water could help us. Maybe keep scent off?”

My cheeks flame, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.Whycan’t I make a coherent sentence?

“Mmm,” he muses, slinging one strong arm along the back of the tub. “I think I’d try just about anything you asked of me right now. Especially if it means getting to touch you.”

I stand there like an idiot, unable to move.

He stretches a hand out toward me, the ring that’s the twin of mine glimmering in the light. “Join me?”

The slight crook of his fingers beckons me, and I go. But then Lysandir sees something on his arm and frowns. “A moment. I won’t have this shameful filth touch you.”

Lysandir begins to stand, and I twirl around quickly, giving him privacy. Behind me, I hear the water begin to fall from the spout on the wall again. There’s splashing, the citrusy aroma of his soap. The hot water creates more steam that warms the room and clings to my hair.

The thoughts that float through my mind one after another are likely just as filthy as whatever grime he scrubs off, but somehow, I manage not to turn and stare.

Should have waited a little longer, I chide myself.

The unmistakable sound of someone exiting the tub makes everything in me draw up tight. I jump as he touches the exposed skin of my upper arm, just below where the short sleeves of my casual dress end. Something catches in my middle, tugging me toward the male at my back and his warmth that jumps the narrow space between us.

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