Page 68 of Crown of Roses
“You…” Maeve sat back in disbelief. “You’re sending scouts?”
The High King inclined his head. “Is there a problem with that, Your Highness?”
Maeve opened her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Saoirse jumped up instead. “I want to go, too.”
“What?” Maeve swallowed her shock. “Why?”
“Because it’s as you said. He is sending scouts, which means any report could be skewed to their advantage. I don’t think we should take any more risks.” She glanced to Casimir. “Captain? Your thoughts?”
“Saoirse returning to Kells would serve us well, and it could be a benefit having one of our own on the ground with them.” Casimir’s warm brown gaze slid to Maeve. “But I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
Oh sure, now he wanted to act like she was in charge. “You truly want to return, Saoirse?”
She nodded. “I think it’s for the best.”
Maeve stood and faced Tiernan, in all of his absurd—if not slightly and unfortunately attractive—garb. “Saoirse will accompany your scouts to Kells. When do they leave?”
“Tonight.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open. “Tonight?”
But Saoirse didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be ready.” Without a backward glance or a farewell, she shoved up from the table and left
Casimir’s head dropped and Maeve could only watch the back of her friend as she walked out of the library. She knew Saoirse was never a fan of saying goodbye, she despised the sentimentality of such things. But still…it stung.
Deciding she didn’t want to stay and learn anymore about primitive fae orgies, or think about her closest ally returning to Kells without her, Maeve made the trek back to her room. But even then, her thoughts were distracted by images of Tiernan in sumptuous fur and supple leather, all easily displaying his chiseled god-like body. She knew the ways of males and females. She knew all about arousal, and orgasms, and passion. But they were all just things she’d read about in her books. She had zero firsthand knowledge, save for her most recent education in the library with Rowan.
Which was fine, she decided as she slipped into her bedroom and shut the door. She didn’t need to experience any of those…sensations. They were nothing more than a distraction, a diversion of her thoughts, a betrayal of her emotions. They would separate her from a rational mindset, and she never wanted to worry about what it would feel like to have to choose between duty and love, because certainly those two paths usually ended up at war with one another.
No, she was perfectly fine being alone.
Except when Maeve turned around, her eyes widened and panic sliced through her. She wasn’t alone.
A pair of lavender eyes was all she saw before Rowan crushed her scream with a kiss.
His hands cupped the sides of her face and his fingers tangled in her hair. She wanted to refuse him, to shove him away as punishment for leaving her. For abandoning her. But his mouth was hot, fused to hers, and her lips parted for him. His tongue swept in, furious and demanding. She clutched his biceps and dragged him closer, desperate to be as near to him as possible. He nudged his knee between her legs, and the friction he created left her mind whirling and her body shaking with an unfulfilled need. A crucial desire.
“Rowan,” she gasped.
“Ssh.” He trailed his kisses across her eyelids, featherlight. The path dipped down to her jaw, then her neck. “Ssh, Princess. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Her arms latched around his neck and she pressed her forehead to his. “You’re back.”
The slightest of nods. “I heard…I heard about the attack. I had to see you. To make sure you were okay.”
His hands captured her face again, and this time he tilted her chin up, so she could look him in the eyes. “Tell me you’re alright.”
“Y-yes. I mean, I am. I am now.” Now that you’re here. The words she didn’t say lingered in the space between them.
He let his palms coast over her shoulders, to her arms. Then he snared her wrists and dragged her arms up over her head. He guided her backward until she bumped into the wall, and he held her in place with one hand, while the other slid down her in a tender caress. His fingertips danced across her breasts and she arced into him, felt his erection press into her stomach. He hooked one finger into the waistband of her leather pants, and her breath hitched.
“Traded in your gowns, I see.” He leaned close, planted slow and tantalizing kisses along her neck. “I like it.”
And she liked him. More than that, she wanted him. There was a pull when he was with her, an undeniable attraction. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to call it love. She wasn’t even sure such a thing existed anymore. But she could understand lust. Desire. Mutual attraction. Rowan filled all those empty places in her soul. And he was not so cruel. He’d kept her company when she was alone in the cage. He’d made an effort to know her, to understand her. Even if he was fae, and she was human, and she knew beyond all measure it would be impossible to claim him as her own, at least she could have these stolen moments with him. These glimpses of time when it was only the two of them, and no one else.
“Though I must say, I miss the easy access of your skirts.” Rowan gripped her ass and hoisted her up, so she locked her legs around his waist. The hardened length of him ground against her, and a breathy sort of noise escaped her. “These leggings are incredibly…tight. Are you wearing any—”
“I’m not,” she breathed, and swallowed his groan with her mouth. He nipped at her bottom lip, and the muscles of her thighs seized and burned, wanting him to touch her. She reached for him, ready to grip him through his pants, and her hand enclosed around his…fur.
