“A little cottage in the woods, with my brother doting on you, is your idea of heaven.”
His brown eyes seem to pin me in place. His gaze peels away all of my layers so that there is only the truth of me left.
Somehow, I manage to swallow. Fuck. How can this fey prince know me better than I know myself? He is right. Damn right. I do want that. More than anything. I want Llywelyn and a little cottage in the woods.
I’m done with excitement and danger. I’ve had enough of the world. My soul craves peace and contentment. A simple life. Love.
Selwyn smiles and releases me from his gaze. He turns his attention to Tae, who has just fluttered in, and asks for some cakes.
I’m not stupid nor naive. I know damn well Selwyn has planted this seed because Llywelyn retiring from court will benefit him. Bump him up the line of power and succession.
But his suggestion has floored me with its potency. I’m too stunned to think properly. My mind is consumed by the vivid image of a beautiful cottage, covered in flowers. And Llywelyn knitting by the fire.
But I can’t have that future. That is not my destiny. Or Llywelyn’s.
I’m here to put him on the throne. And I never fail.
My superiors won’t let me.
Chapter twenty-seven
Consciousness is calling. Once again, the bed is soft and warm. I know Llywelyn is beside me. I have no idea if it is morning or if I am stirring from a nap. Time and routine have become jumbled things.
I open my eyes and I’m not surprised to find Llywelyn’s golden gaze inches from my face. Part of me could sense that he was awake. And I’m getting used to waking up like this. It should be creepy that he enjoys watching me sleep, but twisted bastard that I am, I like it.
I run my hand over my face as the last tendrils of sleep slip away and memories come rushing in. I remember carrying him to bed, and him still being pretty vacant. He looks lucid now.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine,” he replies.
As talkative as ever. But that’s okay. It is the way he is. And right now, I’m the one who needs to be talking. There is a lot to tell him.
I clear my throat. “Selwyn read a book about omegas.”
My mouth goes dry. I’ve spilled Llywelyn’s secrets and now I have to explain all sorts of life-changing things to him. I guess it is no less than I deserve.
“I know. I was listening,” Llywelyn says softly.
“Oh.” I really don’t know what else to say. I’m relieved I don’t need to explain everything, but now I feel guilty for assuming he wasn’t paying attention, and for talking about him as if he wasn’t there.
A strange look flickers over Llywelyn’s beautiful eyes. “I don’t want to be subservient to you.”
A heaviness settles over me. As if gravity has thickened. It is quiet in here. Quiet enough to hear the beating of my guilty heart.
“I know.”
It is the only thing I can say. I’m not going to wheedle out excuses or try to paint everything in a rosy light. He deserves the truth. And it is so refreshing to speak it.
“I hate what you have done to me,” he says and his pink lips lift up in a slight pout, even though his voice is calm and measured.
“I know,” I say again.
He stares at me as a silence falls between us.
“And you know I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say.
He frowns and I hate the unhappy lines marring his pretty face, twisting his features away from his natural beauty.
