Page 75 of Crown of Roses
Or maybe it was tears.
Maeve swallowed, choked on a sob. But she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She couldn’t. She couldn’t be weak. She couldn’t be vulnerable. She was a princess. A warrior. And she had to act like one. Her life depended on it.
The drumming slowed and Maeve sauntered over to Tiernan for what she hoped would be the final time. He held one hand to her lower back, while the other slid to cup the back of her knee. Gradually, he lifted her leg to his hip. She held her breath when his palm moved along her thigh for a better grip, and her body unwillingly arched back, granting him full access to her. Her muscles were aching, shivers overtook her, and she hastily stole a glance at the couple to her left.
They were basically mating. The female’s legs were wrapped around her male’s waist, and he was thrusting without a care, taking her in the firelight for all to see. Inwardly, she cringed. This is not what she wanted. She didn’t want Tiernan. He was awful. Cruel. Punishing.
Maeve squeezed her eyes shut. The warmth of Tiernan’s breath lingered on her breasts, on her neck. Her blood curse surged, and her wrists pulsed against the binding of her cuffs. His presence coasted along her skin like the kiss of a summer storm. Cool and pressing. Foreboding and dangerous. Then he planted the lightest of kisses just below her ear, and the drumming stopped. His magic released her on a rush, causing her head to spin. Her knees gave out, softening beneath the weight of her entranced body, and she crumpled against him. She clung to him, not trusting herself to stand on her own.
Tiernan kept his grip around her waist firm and steady. He glanced down at her, studied her, and his eyes sparkled like endless pools of blue and purple. The golden flecks within them glowed like stars in the night sky. He reached up, and gently brushed away a single tear from her cheek.
Proof of her own betrayal.
He cupped her elbow and steered her away from the bonfire blazing around them.
“What was that?” Maeve hissed, even though her chest ached.
He didn’t even look at her. “A mating dance.”
She staggered back. “A what?”
Tiernan adjusted the red fur cape at his neck so it fell around his bare shoulders. Away from the fires, the air held a distinctive chill, and Maeve burrowed into the fur cape Rowan had glamoured for her. “Don’t worry. Like I said, I don’t enjoy fucking mortals. They’re too…easy.”
Maeve snorted. “Your erection said otherwise.”
His brows shot up and the look of surprise, perhaps even intrigue, vanished a moment later. “Either way, my scent is on you now. So no other males will bother you.”
Maeve didn’t know if she was supposed to be grateful or disgusted. It seemed like a terribly primitive and barbaric way to establish…a relationship.
“Not a relationship,” Tiernan corrected.
“Would you get out of my—“ The words died on her lips as the full reality of what just transpired slammed into her. It stole her breath, left her body cold with dread. She took another, deliberate step away from him. “You…you were controlling my body.”
It wasn’t a question. And they both knew it.
Tiernan dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I was.”
“How?”
He spread his muscled arms wide and Maeve struggled not to stare at the sight of him. Then he winked. “Magic.”
“You can control others.” Her tone was accusatory, but she couldn’t help it. “It’s not just the mind reading.”
“I can’t read your mind,” he interrupted smoothly. “It’s more like I can hear your thoughts, and interject my own when I feel like it.”
She threw her hands up. “That is beside the point. You can make other people do what you want by controlling them.”
“I can.”
He grabbed two brown wooden cups off a passing fae with a tray in her hands and handed one to Maeve. She hesitated.
His eyes rolled to the star-filled sky. “It’s just water.”
She accepted the drink and swallowed it down. Her throat and her body were completely parched. The cool rush of water soothed her, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the High King. She didn’t trust him.
“Sometimes, I make it so they have no idea I’ve taken control of their bodies. Usually they’re merely a pawn. A tool, if you will.” He walked toward the edge of the celebration, where the music was a low hum that resonated in her soul, and where the sounds of pleasure were no longer so blatantly obvious. A breeze siphoned through the trees, cold and brisk, and Maeve shuddered in spite of herself. “Sometimes, though, I prefer my victims know exactly who controls them. The battle between body and mind is a marvelous thing.”
That was what he’d done to her. He’d left her fully aware of everything he made her do. He’d taken complete control of her. He’d made her suffer at his hands, like the dancing strings of a marionette.
