The corner of my mouth hooked up with a mischievous smile. My mother would have had a fit if she knew what I’d just done. And with a rogue Fae, everyone called the Reaper, no less. Who was he?

Wicked rolled off the bed and found a cloth, cleaning himself up before coming over to wipe off my hand.

He then sat down on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his palms, and I scooted in next to him.

“So,” I said. “That was...”

He looked up at me, his expression serious. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

I rolled my eyes. “In case you didn’t notice, I was there, too.”

“Fine. We shouldn’t have done that.”

I hated he was saying this, even if I knew he was probably right. “Because you plan to kill me?” I asked, sort of joking, but not really. “I knew that when I decided I was okay with doing this, so you know...”

He scowled as though I were the one to blame for everything and got up, storming over to the kitchen to make dinner. He said nothing while he worked, slamming the pots and pans and dishes. I kept my mouth shut as I lay on my stomach and admired the muscles in his back and arms, since he hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on.

Soon, the smells of food filled the air, and I slid over to sit at the table. Placing my elbows on the surface and my face in my hands, I continued watching him, just enjoying the view. Gods, he was beautiful.

He turned around to glower at me.

“Why are you so mad?” I asked.

“I’m not.” He turned back to resume tending to the frying pan on the stove.

“Could’ve fooled me.” His response was more silence as he finished cooking and then put the food on the table, dropping into the seat across from me. He picked up a piece of bread and tore into it furiously, his deep green eyes blazing, before he said, “Tomorrow, I’m taking you home.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Fourteen

“What?” I asked, my fork pausing in mid-air. “You are? Why?”

“Because,” he said, sawing at his steak like it had personally wronged him.

“No. That isn’t good enough.” I held up my hand to count off his transgressions. “You dragged me out here. Stole me from my intended fiancé and my crown. Left me nearly to die in the forest. Then built me a fucking cage to use me as bait. You don’t get to just decide I’m going home without telling me why. I deserve answers, and I’m not leaving until I get them.”

His jaw ticked while he stared at me, his knife and fork gripped in his hands like he wanted to use them to crucify a bear.

“Is this because of what we just did?” I asked, wondering why he suddenly wanted to get rid of me. “Did you not...enjoy it?”

He let out a sound of frustration, dropping his utensils with a clatter and pushing himself up from the table. “Of course I enjoyed it,” he said, practically seething. “It was the most alive I’ve felt in centuries.” I frowned at that statement, noting the way his voice dropped at the end. Like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

He walked over to the bed and found his tunic, pulling it over his head with furious movements. When he was done, he stalked back over to the kitchen and opened a cupboard, pulling out a glass decanter full of amber liquid. He poured himself a generous amount and tossed it back, finishing most of it in one gulp.

“If you’re pouring that, I’ll have some too,” I said. With the glass in his hand, he studied me with such a conflicted sense of emotion, I felt like I was being picked apart stitch by stitch. He put his glass down and then found a second, dispensing a generous portion.

Our fingers brushed as he handed it to me, the sensation winding through my limbs and straight to my toes. After what we’d just done, this innocuous touch shouldn’t have made the very marrow of my bones ache. But the way he looked at me left me feeling exposed and like I might tip off the edge of the earth.

With my eyes on him, I took a large gulp, and then immediately started coughing. The liquor burned straight down my throat, my eyes watering. “Good gods, that tastes like shit,” I said, wiping the back of my lips with my sleeve.

Wicked was laughing, his mouth stretched into a glorious smile I hadn’t seen before. It made his already gorgeous face so breathtaking, my heart nearly stopped.

“I’m glad you think this is so funny,” I said, though I was laughing along with him.

He snorted and was trying to clamp down on his amusement, but I didn’t want him to do that. His laugh was wild and big and seemed to filter out through every pore. In fact, some instinctual part of me wanted to make him smile that way forever.

“Do you want some wine instead, Princess?”

Still rubbing my tongue with my sleeve, I nodded. “Yes, that’s more what I’m used to.”

He grinned, and I savored this glimpse of a different version of him. One that was younger and carefree. I wondered what had turned him into this angry Fae living so alone in the woods. I didn’t ask though, sure that would make him clam up and growl at me again.

He poured me a glass of ruby red wine, and I sipped it with a happy sigh. “That’s better.”

“Go sit by the fire,” he said. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”

He began clearing the plates. “Do you want some help?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Though next time you owe me dinner.” Right. I forgot I’d promised to cook for him if he took me outside today. “I also recall saying that if you tried anything, I’d make you sleep outside on the battlements tonight.”

I sipped my wine and looked out the window where the snow had started to fall in thick white flakes. The wind had picked up since this afternoon, the howl echoing through the empty castle.

“Um, about that... I’m sorry about that whole thing with the cage?” My voice pitched up at the end, because I wasn’t actually sorry. “How did you get out of there, anyway?”

He cast a look over one of his broad shoulders. “You don’t really think I designed it without a way to unlock it from the inside?”

“Well, actually I did think that, or I wouldn’t have bothered shoving you in.” He arched a skeptical brow. “Okay, yes. I still would have tried.”

With a soft chuckle, he turned away and resumed washing the dishes.

When it seemed like the matter of both the dinner I’d promised and the threat he’d made had passed, I got up and moved to the worn sofa in front of the fireplace, my wine in my hand. As the wind picked up, I stared into the flames, feeling curiously comfortable and at peace with my surroundings.

Curling my legs under me, I set my head against the back of the sofa and listened to the crackle of the fire. Eventually, Wicked finished cleaning up and settled next to me, his drink full again. Ever careful about giving me space, he didn’t sit too close despite the notable fact he’d had his fingers inside me an hour ago.

“Should we talk about what happened?” I finally asked, unable to stand the tension any longer. It hung in the room as if it were a nosy aunt fishing for the latest gossip. He looked at me, his dark eyes full of thought and his expression inscrutable.

“I wasn’t going to put you in that cage,” he said, surprising me and quite obviously changing the subject. “I was building it for the Reaper.”

“I thought I was the bait?”

He huffed out a sound of frustration and ran a hand down his face. “You were,” he said.

Past tense.

“And now?”

He pinned me with a dark look, but I didn’t get the sense it was me he was angry with. I recalled the words he’d uttered before he’d kissed me. How he wasn’t angry with me.

“And now, I realize I can’t do this.”

A band I’d been wearing around my chest loosened. I hadn’t even understood how worried I’d been until that moment. In silence, I waited for him to continue.