And she wanted to bite him in return. She wanted to look at him and know that he wore her mark beneath his clothes.
The possessiveness she felt surprised her. The urge to stake her own claim on him and warn away any other woman or even man.
Fae often boasted that they’d bred the mating urge from their lineage, but Dominique wondered if it was less about breeding and more about alliances and advantageous matches had become more important than finding one’s true mate.
Ronan lifted his mouth from hers, leaving her lips throbbing. “Unless you want me to tear it in half, take off your dress.”
For a split second, Dominique was tempted to tell him to do exactly that, but she loved her gown. And maybe someday, if they had a daughter, she would want to wear it.
She stepped back from him, her hands lifting to the buckle of the belt around her hips. The ceremonial sword was heavier than it looked, the jewels and precious metals adding weight. Still, she was careful as she removed it and set it on the side table next to the sofa.
Then, her hands went behind her to the small button at the base of her spine. Lydon was not only a talented dressmaker, but he was also an attentive listener. When she mentioned that she would like to be able to put on and remove her dress alone, he’d created a spelled button, hidden by a glamour, and sewn it at the base of her spine. She could feel it with her finger, but no one else could see it.
When she brushed her fingertip over it and added a pulse of magic, the material that ran from between her shoulder blades to the base of her spine split apart, fastened together only by magic.
Her hands shook slightly as she shrugged her arms and shoulders free of the overdress. Ronan’s eyes burned like blue flames as he watched her step out of the thin, iridescent garment.
His hands fisted when she moved to lay it across the arm of the sofa, but he didn’t say anything. He continued to watch her, his muscles tensing beneath his tunic, as she reached up and shoved the delicate straps of the silk gown she’d worn beneath the overdress over her shoulders. The weight of the silk dragged it down her body, pooling on the floor at her feet.
When she bent to lift it, Ronan growled, “Leave it.”
Dominique’s legs went weak at the sound of his voice. The low timbre rolled through her, bringing her body to attention. She stepped out of the material, wearing nothing but the tiny thong and strapless bra he’d objected to yesterday.
When he stalked toward her, Dominique lifted her hands, prepared to reach out to him, but he stopped just out of reach. She watched in surprise as he knelt before her, his face a mask of both anger and pain.
“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer and resting her hands on his shoulders.
Ronan looked up at her, the tension she felt in his muscles simmering there in his eyes as well.
“I don’t deserve to touch you,” he answered, his voice guttural. “I don’t deserve to have you at all.”
Dominique moved her hands to his cheeks. “Why?”
His palms covered hers, keeping her fingers pressed against his flesh. “I forced you into this situation and this marriage. I hurt you,you—my soulmate. You should be angry with me, unforgiving, but instead you’re here. You’re too good, too kind, to be shackled to me, but I’m too much of a selfish bastard to let you go.”
She sighed. “Maybe you don’t deserve me, maybe I should still be angry, but there’s something you’re forgetting.”
At her words, his stomach clenched. “What’s that?”
Dominique leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead before she answered, “I get to decide how I feel and what I want. And I’ve decided that I want you as long as you never treat me like that again. Do you think you can uphold your end of the bargain?”
“I can,” he vowed.
His arms wrapped around her hips, drawing her body closer. He pressed his cheek against her stomach, holding her tightly.
“Are we done with this?” Dominique asked.
“Yes and no.”
She sighed, her hand sifting through his hair. “What does that mean?”
He moved his head, resting his chin against her belly so he could look up at her. “I will always be grateful that you’ve given me your grace and forgiveness. But I will never forget that I let my pride, and my anger hurt you, because I never want to do it again.”
“Then, don’t.” Using her hold on his face, she urged him to his feet. “Now, I need my husband tonight.”
His arms tightened around her when she called him her husband.
“You promised to mark me and I’m holding you to it.”
