Page 17 of Starchaser
I take in the luxurious compartment—the single bed with its silky scarlet sheets and plush pillows. But if this is Titus’s room…
Oh Stars.
I whirl to protest, but Will is gone. Titus leans casually on the doorframe, a roguish smirk on his lips, a stark contrast to the thunderous expression he wore upon seeing the evidence of Owen’s attack. He winks at me, as if the conversation we had earlier today never happened.
“Don’t worry, love,” Titus croons. “I won’t hog the blanket.”
I stare down at whatcould possibly be the comfiest bed I’ve ever laid eyes on as if it might as well be full of snakes.
“Relax,” Titus says, removing his jacket and slinging it over a hook. “I have no intention of sleeping within striking distance of you.” He shoots me a teasing grin, but his voice is gentle. Even his posture seems… subdued. Wary. Like he’s not sure how to act.
I know, because I feel the same way.
“It was agreed that I would sleep in the chair.” He clears his throat, tugs at his shirt collar. “I offered for William to share the room with you, instead, but he insisted on standing guard outside the door.”
I’m not sure why Will’s refusal stings, and though I try to hide the disappointment on my face, it must show, because Titus quickly looks away, pretending he didn’t see my reaction. My mind insists that Will declined only because if it were discovered thatwe had shared a room, it would put both of us in danger, whereas Titus’s indiscretions are to be expected. As sole heir to his father’s kingdom, he might endure punishment, but not to the extent that Will would. But my heart whispers,Will it always be like this? Separated by doors that will remain closed, unable to risk our safety—our lives—for what we truly want?
Titus takes a seat in the velvet chair, his bare, tattooed hands clutching the armrests. He blows out a tight breath. “It’s only a bed, Aster.”
I roll my eyes, gesturing at my gown. “I can’t sleep like this.”
He quirks a brow. “Then take it off.”
My face burns with an unholy fire, as if I might burst into flames at any moment. “Excuse me?”
The ghost of a grin touches his lips. He glances at the wooden screen across the room. “There should be something you can change into.”
Oh. Right.
I blow out a tight breath as I step around the screen, hidden from view. I find a pair of red silk pajamas folded in a neat pile on a small stool, as if someone had the forethought to leave them here for me, along with a basin of water for washing up.
“The attack at the train station gave William quite the scare,” Titus drawls, apparently sensing my curiosity. “He asked that I have the room prepared for you before dinner.”
“And you just so happen to keep a pair of silk pajamas on hand?” The words leave my mouth before I think better of them. Of course he would have them. He’s engaged to a princess. These are probably—
“I took them from your room,” he says, interrupting myspiraling thoughts. “If they’re not to your liking, I can fetch another pair. You have twenty.”
I halt, the gown halfway over my head.“Twenty?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean to go overboard,” he says, his voice stilted and rough, and for the first time since I’ve met him, he sounds… awkward. Like a common boy, not a prince. “I just wanted you to have everything you might need.”
I’m glad he can’t see me, because I’m sure the look on my face is utterly ridiculous. I scoff, but it sounds more like I’ve just choked on a grape. “And you thought I might need twenty pairs of silk pajamas?”
He clears his throat. “They’re not all silk,” he grumbles. “And besides,” he adds a bit louder, some of the pomp returning to his voice, “I couldn’t have you showing up at the palace looking like a proper pirate.”
I’m not the least bit insulted. “So you’re the one who decided on the most uncomfortable pair of shoes I’ve ever had to cram my feet into?”
I imagine he rolls his eyes, but I can sense the smile in his voice when he says, “Welcome to my world, love.”
I pull the pajama top over my head, biting my lip to bar the sound that almost escapes me at the feel of the cool, luxuriously soft silk gliding over my skin.
Damn himandhis pajamas.
“If you don’t like the clothes,” Titus says quietly, hesitantly, “I can have it arranged for you to choose some things for yourself.”
Something in my chest squeezes as I pull the pants up to my waist. So the fearsome, bloodthirsty prince actually cares whether the pretty gowns he gave me are what I would have wanted.
I step around the screen to find him glaring at the wall, his fist pressed to his mouth.
