“You—” The word was almost out, but it collided with the frustrated noise I made, and the sound ate it up. I grabbed the tray, pushed open the door to her room, and stormed inside.
She was gettin’ to a sittin’ position on the bed. She still had the same clothes on, and her glasses were askew on her nose. More long tendrils fell around her face. The bun was almost nonexistent.
For as soft as her beauty was, it was a constant shock to my system. It almost made me stumble. I held on to the tray even harder. Maybe it would even bend or snap from the pressure.
I shoved it at her when I got close enough. She shoved it back and stood.
“I’m.Not.Hungry.”
She punctuated each word, like I didn’t understand what she was sayin’. I understood words perfectly. Just because I chose not to speak didn’t mean meanings were lost on me. I could feel out any man in a room and know his intentions before anyone else.
Listenin’. Watchin’. Learnin’.
It had made me an extremely smart man.
I stomped over to the desk and set the tray down. I faced the window, closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, and took deep breaths.
Keenan was right. I had to cool my temper, or she might run if I scared her. She didn’t seem easily shaken, but I didn’t want her to fear me.
I wanted to be her king, to earn her love and loyalty.
I also wanted her to eat. I knew she had to be hungry. She was just doin’ this to prove a point. I wouldn’t allow it to be at her expense.
Her footsteps were light as she moved closer. Her sweet woodsy scent breezed past as she came to stand next to me.
She crossed her arms over her chest, and thoughts seemed to move across her electric blue eyes. Then whatever she’d decided on made her sigh and relax her stance. She fixed her glasses and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would it be possible to let my dad know I’m okay?”
In response, I slid the tray closer to her.
She shook her head, already sayin’ no. She opened her mouth to probably say she wasn’t hungry again, but before she could, I swiped up some mashed potatoes with a finger and stuck it in her mouth.
Her eyes grew wide and she stilled, not even takin’ a breath, until I moved my finger in deeper and made her take the food. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue swirled and her teeth grazed, and when I went to slide it out, her lips closed.
I hissed out a breath. I hadn’t intended it to be sexual, but my cock was so hard, it was painful. Her mouth was warm and wet, and her tongue stroked my skin.
Her eyes flew open, and she took a step back. She took a few deep breaths. “If I eat…” Her voice trembled. “Will you let my dad know?”
She was gettin’ the hang of talkin’ to me—in my own way.
I nodded and pulled out the chair for her. I took a decorative chair and set it on the opposite side of the desk and took a seat. She took everythin’ off the tray but the vase with the rose. She slid my plate and drink closer to me and took hers. I set the vase in the center of the desk, then put the tray to the side.
She ate slowly, her eyes risin’ to meet mine every so often. Maybe because I was almost inhalin’ the food compared to her. It had been hours since the last time I’d had somethin’ to eat. And food was nothin’ but fuel to keep me movin’. I never really tasted it.
Or maybe it was somethin’ else entirely.
Whenever our eyes collided, my chest tightened, and it was hard to breathe.
Dinner was silent, but words were worthless anyway. I couldn’t hear over the roarin’ of that thing in my chest. And if her heart was the same—neither could she.
Chapter8
Maeve
Love is a language, and it’s universally spoken, even if with different accents.That was something I’d learned from reading so many romance books. That, and that love is always unique to each couple.
I wasn’t sure if Cian knew how to speak any language, much less love. I’d been at the castle for a week, and for the entire week, he never said a word to me, just stuck close.
A few times a grin came to my face when I thought of Delaney and what she would have to say about it.
