Page 96 of Destined for the Fae King

I nearly roll my eyes. Ridiculous fae male possessiveness. “And if one of the maids notices?”

He shrugs. “I won’t let them in.”

“Forever.”

“I’ll burn the sheets.”

Now, that does get an eyeroll. “Because that’s not suspicious.”

“It’s the Court of Fire, Mira.” He smirks. “Burned sheets aren’t that uncommon.”

I blink at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s kidding, and finally remembering that fae don’t do that. “Noted,” I say. And then, “And where will you sleep?”

Lysandir looks arounds. “The couch.”

I eye it skeptically. There’s no way someone as tall as him could find it comfortable, especially not after all he’s been through these last days. “It’s too short.”

“The floor then.”

“The floor,” I echo. “In your own room?”

“Perhaps I’ll just stay up all night watching over you.” His eyes darken and he looks away. “It wouldn’t be my first sleepless night recently, and this time, I’d have something far more pleasant to occupy my sight and thoughts.”

“But that’s exactly why you need to sleep.” I reach for him and stop just short, dropping my hand. Damn it, not touching, not getting my scent all over him after he just scrubbed it off is so hard.

“And I’ll do it much better if you’re near. If I don’t have to worry.”

My brows pinch. “What could harm us here?” When he’s silent, I prod further. “The Unseelie?”

He drops his head, hand tightening into a fist at his side. “It would be foolish to think they won’t attempt something after the havoc we just wreaked upon them.” Lysandir walks to a nearby chair and practically falls into it. He still doesn’t look at me when he continues speaking. “He treated it like a hunt, stalking down any group he could findand—”

I crouch near him and take his hand in mind. I know, touching bad, but I can’t help it, not when he’s hurting. He squeezes my hand in return and makes no move to pull away.

When he finally looks up at me, I’d swear his eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“It wasn’t… They weren’t warbands we found, Mira.”

Oh God…Everything he doesn’t say stirs a burning horror deep within me and I hold tighter to him.

“They were unprepared. It doesn’t make sense. They should have known we’d retaliate for such a crime against humans, a potential bride of the king, no less.”

“Unless it was a few acting alone?” I offer, weakly.

“Maybe. But to get so far into our territory, to harm a human instead of trying to steal them away?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense with the behaviors we’ve observed of late. I fear we’re missing something or have stirred a nest of buzzacks that will only come back to sting us even worse.”

The revelations sit heavy in center, making me want to hunch in on myself. “Lysandir…” I blink at him, lost for words.

“Whatever they plan, I won’t let them harm you,” he says. There’s a ferocity in his tone, but more than that, a vulnerability, the slight warble of fear. “And I can defend you better from whatever comes if you are near me. So please,” he leans in close, our foreheads nearly touching, “at least for tonight, let me keep you close.”

When he asks like that, I’d give him the world if I could. Though more than anything that this moment, I wish I could hold him close and heal the little broken parts he’s been brave enough to show me. Hopefully, I can someday.

But for now I say, “How could I possibly say no to that?”

Chapter 38

We manage to keepour hands off each other—mostly. Ironically, it’s only our hands that touch, but it was almost so much more when I removed my bra, forgetting that my hair had dampened my dress and that Lysandir would be able to see absolutely everything. He’d stared at me like a lion about to pounce on its prey. It probably didn’t help when I pulled my shoulders back ever so subtly.

He calmed a little and claimed the couch when I tucked myself under the sheets. But both of us were restless, unable to sleep, though I so desperately wanted to. Eventually, Lysandir lay on the floor by my bed with a decorative pillow propped under his head and held the hand that I dangled over one side of the mattress. It should have been so much harder to sleep like that—touching him, holding the hand that had elicited such wicked pleasure in the bath, but I fell asleep quickly then.

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