“I don’t want to talk. Go to sleep.”

He tugs at the blankets I have pulled over my head. “You are upset.”

“Of course I’m upset,” I grit out, frustrated. “I’ve offered myself to you on a silver platter and you push me away. Finding you touching yourself in the middle of the night when I’m in bed right next to you? Just waiting for you to touch me? It makes me feel like you don’t want me. You don’t approve of me unless I agree to be your mate. You make me feel like there’s something wrong with who I am. Like I’m dirty if I touch you without some stupid vows.”

“Candra, no.” His hand strokes my back through the blankets, and I wish it didn’t feel so good. “You misunderstand me.”

I suspect I’m not misunderstanding anything. Nice try, though.

He continues to rub my back. “I…I must relieve my body, Candra. It is the only way I can be around you without touching you.”

His words make me jerk upright, all frustration. I sit up in the darkness, glaring at the glow of his green eyes, the only thing I can see. “So touch me. I’m right here.”

“It is not that simple.” His eyes flicker. “I cannot compromise who I am, and a mate is everything to a Fellian. A female brings honor to her mate, and I would not dishonor you.”

“You weren’t thinking about honor when my mouth was on your knot,” I grumble.

“You woke me by surprise. No male would turn away such a thing.” A long claw strokes along the curve of my jaw. “I am a strong male, but not that strong, Candra.”

“So you didn’t like it.”

“No, that’s not the problem. I liked it too much.” His voice is achingly gentle. “I like you too much. I am just trying to love you and honor you in the best way I know how.”

I go still in surprise. “You…love me?”

“You sound surprised. Have I not made my affection for you clear?”

Has he? It’s hard to say. He’s kissed me and we’ve fooled around, but I didn’t realize love was a factor. Or am I so used to court morals and flirting that it all seems normal to me? “I mean…it could be clearer.”

“I asked you to be my mate,” Nemeth says gently. “I do not offer such things lightly. If I took a human female as my mate, I would be mocked before my people. They would not shun me, but they would make their displeasure very evident, and it would take many long years for my family name to return to honor. I know my brothers would be disgusted with me, my mother disappointed. I know all this and yet I still make this offer to you, because a life without you seems far more unbearable.” His thumb pad skims over my lower lip. “Would I take myself in hand all through the night if I did not care for you?”

“All through the night, huh?” How did I sleep through this?

He gives a wry chuckle and skims my lip again. “Being near you and not being able to touch you? It is maddening. But I would respect you. My people think so little of Liosians that I would have no one think I did not treat you with the utmost honor in our time here. Please do not be angry with me.”

“Well…I can’t be angry now,” I say, mollified. I feel better knowing that despite his serene facade, he’s desperate with wanting me.

Claws move to my chin and he tips it up, making me meet his eyes in the darkness. “Then say you will be my mate.”

I swallow hard. If I say yes, I get what I want here—him and me, together. But once we leave this tower, I’ll be a pariah. Not just in my kingdom, but it sounds like in his, too. There will be no place for us to be happy together. “I don’t know, Nemeth.”

“I understand.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my brow. “Take all the time you need. We have years.”

Instead of reassuring me, that just makes me feel worse. Do I waste our time together worrying about the future? Or do I forget about the future and live for now?

This time, when we lie down to sleep, Nemeth pulls me against him. He doesn’t kiss me again, but tugs me against his chest and holds me close. If I was a strong, indignant woman, I’d say that him holding me is a little manipulative. That he’s trying to pull me to his way of thinking.

But I’m lonely and needy and his arms around me feel far, far too good. I guess he’s not the only one that’s weak.

Chapter

Forty-One

“Candra.” Nemeth’s voice is hushed against my ear, rousing me from sleep. A moment later, he shakes me gently. “Candra, wake up.”

“Mm?” I rub my nose against his chest, drowsy and content. “Is it morning?”

“I do not know. But I hear something.”

The urgency in his voice makes my sleepiness fade. I pull out of his arms and sit upright, ears straining. He’s right—I hear the faint but familiar chink chink chink of bricks being broken outside. “Someone’s back?”

“It seems so.” He sounds uneasy.

I slide out of bed and reach for the lamp, tapping it to turn it on. “Do you suppose they forgot to give us something?”

“They forgot to give you wood to burn last year and they never came to give you more.” Nemeth points out, hauling his big body out of bed.

Frowning, I pause. He’s right. Riza’s letters were full of apologies about how guilty she’d felt once they’d realized the mistake. How she’d been anxious all year at the thought of me fending for myself without a basic necessity. Yet no one had thought to re-open the tower and provide me with the forgotten wood. So why return now? It’s past the solstice. The goddess’s eye will be heavily upon us, watching to make sure we don’t venture anywhere near the door and break our vow.

“Then what can it be?” I ask Nemeth, even as I slip my shoes on. “Is it your people, perhaps?”

“It will not be,” he says to me. “I would know if they planned to return.”

Hmm. Does he have a magical instrument like my knife that tells him secrets? Or is he just assuming that he would know all of his people’s plans?

“It’ll be humans, then.” I glance down at my clothing. I’m wearing nothing but my chemise, and it seems foolish to race downstairs in nothing but that. I think about the dismissive, ugly looks the Liosians gave me and want to look my best, because clothes can be armor. “Can you help me dress? Do we have time?”

He nods. “It is not a fast process, breaking into the tower. Show me what you need help with.”

I slip a deep blue gown over my head. The bodice and decorated skirt are attached, with the laces going up the front of the heavily embroidered bodice. The sleeves attach separately to the shoulders of the bodice, as all my gowns do, so they can be removed for my potion to be administered. I have Nemeth help me with these as I lace the front of the tight gown, reaching in to adjust my tits so they bubble over the front of the bodice pleasantly. As I do, Nemeth’s wings flick, and I know he’s watching my breasts.

That restores a bit of my confidence in myself. After all, I might be trapped in this tower, but I’m still Princess Candromeda Vestalin, known flirt of a proud, handsome lineage. I know I’m attractive, even if I’m plump and rounded next to Erynne. I shouldn’t doubt myself.

Once the laces are tied with a knotted bow just under my cleavage, I pat the swells of my tits and toy with the edges of the chemise that tease out just over the edge of the bodice. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” Nemeth tells me, his tone reverent. “You are always beautiful.”

I smile up at him, and his strange green eyes seem to be devouring me where I stand, as if I’m a delicious morsel and he’s a starving man. For a brief, shining moment I’m annoyed that we have to go downstairs. I’d rather stay up here, unlace my gown again, and see how he reacts when my tits spill free.

But then the chink chink chink of brickwork reminds me that something today is different, and we can’t lounge in bed.