Page 81 of Crown of Roses
Tiernan’s arm wrapped swiftly around her waist and he dragged her against him. He grabbed her chin and tried to make her look up, but her body was no longer cooperating. Her head lolled to the side, and the world tipped on its axis. Colors blurred together in a dizzying mix and Maeve slumped against Tiernan’s chest. Wrong. All of this was wrong. The pink dust, the cloud, it must have…she couldn’t think clearly. Her mind was fogged, empty and devoid of rational thought.
“Maeve?”
She squinted, stared up at him, sagged against him. “I like…” Her mouth felt like a wad of sandpaper had been shoved down her throat. She tried again, with one eye open and one eye closed. “I like…these.”
Her finger landed on his nose.
His brow furrowed. “I’ve only got one.” Concern deepened the line of worry marring his forehead. “Do you see two?”
“No.” She opened her mouth slowly. Now it was like paste. Sticky. Yucky. “Eyes.”
Now those same dark brows arched. “You like my eyes?”
“Mm.”
She thought she heard him mutter something when he scooped her up into his arms. Cold air rushed over her, and it was like flying. No, she was flying. Illustrious wings of midnight, cobalt, and aubergine spread out behind Tiernan, and the wingspan was wider than any she’d seen before. Not that she’d been privy to many fae with wings, but as of late, she’d seen more than ever. His wings appeared from nowhere and moved like silk through the air around them. Silent and beautiful. They reminded her of a summer evening, just after sunset, when shades of dusk stole through the sky just before the fall of night.
Without warning, they stopped moving. It was darker here. Not as loud. There was no music and the forest was eerily still. She thought she should be scared.
“Where are…” Maeve struggled to get the last word out from between her lips. “We?"
“Here.” Tiernan’s voice was cold, and then she was flying through the air without him. Before her scream could pierce the night, before she realized what was happening, she plunged into a black, icy abyss.
Panic seized her, and she swallowed down a gulp of slimy water. Alarm slammed into her as the freezing water pulled her down, down. She kicked violently, and her arms flailed, desperate to find an anchor, anything to pull her from the water. But there was nothing to grab, nothing to hold, nothing to save her. Swim. She needed to swim. But her arms wouldn’t work and it was so dark, and so cold, and she didn’t know which way was up. Her lungs screamed for oxygen, and every nerve in her body was wrecked with terror. She was going to drown. For some awful reason, Tiernan had thrown her into a body of water, and now she was going to drown.
A muscled arm wrapped around her, and Tiernan pulled her to him, crashing through the surface. He flew her over to the bank of the lake and set her down where the ground was soft, where her nails clawed into the mud in an effort to secure herself against the solid earth. She clambered away from him, crawled on her hands and knees through the damp leaves and grass. She choked and coughed, gasping every second for another breath of air, until she heaved up all the lake water she’d swallowed.
Shivers stole through her and she convulsed uncontrollably.
“What the fuck, Maeve?” His voice boomed from somewhere above her, but she couldn’t look up at him. Her teeth chattered until a pounding ache throbbed between her temples. “You can’t swim?”
She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, and brought her knees to her chest. She rocked back and forth. Back and forth. Her bottom lip quivered. “N-no. I h-hate…h-hate…”
Maeve didn’t know if she was stuttering because her body was succumbing to a state of hypothermia, or if she was having a full-blown panic attack. Neither was pleasant.
“You bastard!” Another masculine voice cracked through the night and Maeve jumped out of her skin. Rowan appeared out of nowhere, his face etched into severe lines of savagery, his muscles flexed with fury. Wild shadows exploded around him and charged the night air with furious energy. He whipped off the cloak of fur he wore and draped it around Maeve’s shoulders. Then he stormed toward Tiernan, blocking Maeve with his wide frame. Rage radiated from him, and the magic was so thick, it was nearly suffocating. “You could’ve killed her!”
“Me?” Tiernan’s wrath cut through the night, swift like a blade. “You’re the one who left her alone with a bunch of wild fae.”
“I told her to stay put.” There was a tremor in Rowan’s voice and it lowered an octave. The deep baritone caused goosebumps to pebble along her flesh and another tremor overtook her. “Someone else convinced her to partake in a mating dance.”
Tiernan lifted his chin, his dark gaze set. He crossed his arms, and every muscle bunched, prepped for battle. “I was protecting her.”
Rowan’s hands curled into fists. “From who?”
“From Fearghal.”
Maeve pushed herself up from the ground, buried herself further into Rowan’s cloak. She stepped toward both males. The spark and snap of their magic and tempers was enough to chill her to her bones. But she had to stop them. She had to stop whatever brawl was about to erupt between the two, and a distraction seemed to be the only way. “Who’s Fearghal?”
“A very dangerous faerie.” Tiernan held out his hand to her without taking his eyes off Rowan.
“Maeve.” Rowan stepped up beside her, offered his hand instead.
“You really think you can protect her?” Tiernan sneered and arrogance dripped from him. “The way you glamoured her like a common whore nearly got her snatched. Don’t pretend you don’t have any idea what he would’ve done if he’d gotten his hands on her.”
Rowan made a guttural noise, and it resonated deep within his chest. He drew his sword. Tiernan bared his teeth, and violet lightning exploded above them.
“Stop it!” Maeve shoved herself between both of them. “Stop it now.” Tiernan glared down at her. His gaze seared her skin. But she refused to let him phase her. “I found the will ó wisp.”
