“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were hiding from me up in this tower.”
“Don’t be silly. Congratulations are in order, I believe.” She set her book aside, giving him a weak smile. “You had quite the night.”
“You heard?” He smirked, propping his feet up in the chair adjacent. “Couldn’t have gone better if you ask me. Reeve was eager to hear my plans.”
“Good,” said Maeve. Fear of the potential backlash that was coming kept her from meeting his gaze. “I fell straight to sleep.”
“Not before having a run-in with Alphard, though,” said Mal emotionlessly.
Maeve stared straight ahead, and then slowly her eyes moved to him. He was difficult to read at the moment. His eyes were sharp, unyieldingly piercing.
How could he possibly know about their argument?
He answered her unasked question. “I could feel it.” His gaze traveled to his ring, which lay flat against her blouse.
Maeve stared at him, waiting for an explosion. Waiting for that temper to break loose. If Xander’s attention had brought him to anger, surely Alphard’s actions would too. His eyes bore into hers so intensely that she swallowed.
“Interesting,” commented Maeve, as she played with the ring around her neck.
“So tell me,” said Mal, his voice cool and calm. “How did that go?”
“Not well,” answered Maeve.
He nodded and intertwined his fingers across his chest. “So when I told you to handle it, instead, what you did was ignore it to the point that Alphard Mavros thought he could put his hands on you.” Mal’s jaw tightened. His voice dangerously low. “His fucking lips on yours.”
Maeve sucked in a slow breath. “He was drunk.”
“Was he drunk the times you allowed him to kiss you?”
Maeve’s jaw tightened.
“The times he danced so close to you?”
“Alright,” said Maeve tensely, getting the point.
Mal nodded subtly. “It isn’t about The Committee or an agreement between your family and his. When I told you to handle it, I meant handle him.” Mal looked away from her. “He loves you. Truly. Maybe it’s only out of the love he had for your brother, but it remains all the same.”
Alphard’s love had always been there. That was true. And she didn’t doubt Mal could feel it, but she’d never be able to explain that love to him. That it was childlike. Blind. Comfortable. It was Antony’s death that brought them together. Two spiraling, collapsing stars that needed one another not to burn up. It was a bond rooted in despair. One she no longer needed.
“It was naive of me,” said Maeve.
His face was blank, devoid of emotion.
“Your heartbeat was rapid, uneven,” he said. “You were a range of emotions, and I could feel them all. Fear. Disdain. Pity. . .Guilt.”
Maeve tucked her hands under her legs and spoke hesitantly. “I was afraid of it. I was afraid to tell him. I didn’t want to hurt him-”
“Hurt him?” Mal’s eyes darkened and flicked to hers. “That is your concern?”
Maeve sighed. She stood from the window seat and walked towards him, kneeling beside his chair.
“Do you doubt my loyalty?” Asked Maeve, her voice soft.
Mal took her chin in his hand, running his finger along her jawline. “I doubt my ability to ever trust again a man who kisses you knowing full well you belong to another.”
“And what about your trust in me?”
Mal hesitated, his eyes racked over her face as if looking for an answer. “Tell me you are mine.”
