Page 36 of Throne of Dreams
Tiernan released her. “It’s possible.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
Let.He couldn’t remember the last time anyonelethim do anything. He moved closer, slowly closing the distance between them. He breathed in, inhaled the scent of her, andletit consume him completely. “Do not make me delve into your mind for the answers, Maeve.”
There was that stubborn lift of her chin again. “It’s never stopped you before.”
“Damn it, I am trying to bekind! I’m doing everything in my power not to rip through the realms and destroy whoever caused you such fear!” Tiernan towered over her, but she didn’t flinch beneath his wrath. “But you are so damned stubborn, and you fight me every step of the way!”
She rose up on her toes and jabbed him squarely in the chest. “You call this being kind? You’re yelling at me! You’re furious. And it doesn’t matter what I say. If I tell you I accidentally thought a glamoured merrow was a stranded child, you’d ridicule me for it. If I tell you they dragged me to an underwater city and told me I was worthy of a throne, you’d mock me.” She backed away from him then and her shoulders fell, like the battle had already been lost. “And if I dare mention anything about the fact that my Aurastone chose me, you’d humiliate me for all eternity. So forgive me, my lord, if the last person I ever want to talk to about anything is you.”
Maeve stormed past him again, and this time he let her go.
Her words were a dagger to his heart. She wounded him. Deeply.
She dropped onto the edge of her bed, crossed one leg over the other, and wrapped her arms around herself. He shook himself out of his stupor from her outburst and approached her again. Slowly, this time. “You were taken to Ispomora?”
Her eyes flashed. “Really? That’s all you got from that conversation?”
He matched her energy. “Answer the question.”
“Yes,” she snapped.
“And they didn’t harm you?”
“No.” She grabbed a book off her nightstand and flipped it open in a clear dismissal. His blood burned. “Not like you care.”
The barb struck true. “I do.”
She made a noise of disbelief and continued to turn the pages of her book, not really reading at all. She licked her thumb, swiping at another page, and he tracked the movement. “Sure.”
Tiernan couldn’t handle it anymore. He couldn’t take the way she so easily disregarded him like he was nothing. Like he wasn’t a fucking High King of Faeven. She was stubborn and reckless, with just enough audacity that sometimes even looking at her nearly sent him over the edge. He snatched her by the waist and lifted her off the bed in one swift movement.
The book in her hands tumbled to the ground and her bare feet dangled in the air, but her gaze was hyper-focused on him. Relief sank deep into his bones. She was alive. Furious with him, but alive. He’d almost lost her, he’d been panicked, worried she wouldn’t come back. That she’d be gone forever. Suddenly, that voice inside his head telling him to put space between them wasn’t there anymore.
He glared down at her. “I said I care.”
Sparks flickered at her fingertips and cinnamon smoke surrounded them. She demanded an answer of him.“Why?”
“Because you aremine.” Without thinking, Tiernan drew her in close and fused his mouth to hers. But this kiss was not gentle. It wasn’t kind. It was devastating. Torturous. And everything he ever wanted. He tore his mouth away and was met with her damning, lust-filled gaze. “I made you mine when you danced for me in the Autumn Court. No other will ever touch you. No other will ever mark you. Because you are mine.”
* * *
Tiernan losttrack of everything around him when they crashed into each other’s arms.
They tumbled onto the bed, and her hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in his hair. Coursing down his shoulders, squeezing the muscle of his arms, exploring his abdomen. Her touch was like fire, hot and dangerous. It set his skin aflame. He climbed on top of her, admired the beauty displayed before him. The only thing keeping him from kissing and tasting every inch of her was the ridiculously sheer robe she wore, and he grinned as she squirmed beneath him, drawing him closer.
He palmed her breasts, using the friction of the fabric to harden her nipples into tiny pink buds. She arched into his grip, a silent demand for more.
Capturing her mouth again, his tongue sought entry, and when she opened for him, the taste of her left him strangled. He bit, and licked, and sucked, all while she writhed underneath him, grinding herself against the hardened length of his cock. Lust filled him, rocked him to his core. He broke the kiss, knowing he wanted more of her, all of her. Her heady desire clung to the air, and it was ambrosia. It melded with his own, and he knew she could sense it as well. This mixture, this mingling of their scents, would be his undoing.
His mind blanked and he forgot everything. He forgot he was supposed to be angry with her. He forgot he was supposed to be punishing her with a kiss. The last thing he’d expected was for her to unravel in his arms. He didn’t want to remember anything ever again except for this moment. For how she felt beneath him—like silk. For how she looked up at him—like he was all she ever wanted.
“You should wear this more often.” He pulled on the ribbon tied in a bow at her waist, and the robe spilled around her like a faerie pool, exposing her to him completely. He drank his fill of her. Full and lush breasts glimmering in rose gold swirls. The dip of her waist, the curve of her hips. She was glorious. Her skin was velvet beneath his touch and all he wanted to do was glide his tongue over every perfectly smooth inch of her.
She reached up, fumbling, desperately trying to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not practical for training.”
“Depends on the training,” he murmured and sucked her breast into his mouth.
