I started cleaning up the apartment. Little was broken other than a few shattered glass frames; I did the best I could to sweep up all the glass and dump it in the trash can. I put books back on the shelves, some fallen pots and plates from the kitchen.
After the apartment was back in order, I considered going to bed, but I was still too wired. So I got out my colored pencils and sketchbook and reclined on the living room sofa, working on my drawing of the fae stag. Locke was right—I had grown up on faerie tales, but I’d never dreamed of marrying a faerie prince. Even as a girl, I’d known that semi-homeless little girls with crazy mothers didn’t end up with magical princes.
I didn’t realize that I had drifted off until I felt a shiver and opened my eyes, and Severn loomed over me.
ChapterEight
I sat up quickly, knocking my colored pencils to the floor. When I bent to pick them up, Severn grabbed my arm, stopping me, shaking his head. His eyes smoldered.
“Is everything okay?” I started.
“No.” His eyes were on my bruise. “We need to talk more about the fact that you were wounded.”
“What, my forehead? It’s really not a big deal.” I shrugged it off. I was just relieved the tower was once again safe. But then I became very aware of Severn’s hand on my arm and the two of us alone in the great room. I hadn’t been this close to Severn since we’d had to squeeze into the elevator together with all the groceries. His hand on my arm sent a sort of prickly shiver over my skin, and I found myself captivated by his eyes, unable to look away. His beauty was mesmerizing.
“I cannot allow any of my subjects to be hurt on my watch,” he said quietly.
I bristled and said, “I’m not one of your subjects.”
An indignant look wavered in his eyes like I’d challenged him. Unlike everyone else in Wilde Tower,Ididn’t have to obey him. He was my boss, but he couldn’t compel me to do anything I didn’t want to, and I think he resented that about me. I was the one person he couldn’t control.
“Lie down on the sofa,” he ordered.
“I just said that I’m not…”
“Lie down, Willow.”
Even if he wasn’t my king, he was still my boss, and that commanding tone could have made a boulder turn to water. Swallowing, I fought the urge to argue and lay down on the sofa. He sat on the edge of the cushion next to me and brushed the hair delicately off my forehead, taking a closer look at the bruise. “How did it happen?”
“A book fell off of one of my bedroom shelves.”
“Unacceptable,” he muttered.
What was I supposed to do, stop gravity? But as much as I wanted to argue, I really liked my job and adored Henry and May, and if I had to suck up to Severn to keep my position, then so be it. “I guess I could be a little better organized…”
He cocked his head in confusion, and then his eyes softened. “No, I wasn’t talking about your work performance, Willow. You are doing an acceptable job with the children and maintaining the apartment. I meant that it was unacceptable formeto allow someone in my…employment…to come to harm. For that, I apologize.”
The last thing I’d been expecting was for the prince regent of the New Court to apologize for something. Since I’d started working for him, he’d had almost nothing but sharp commands for me or cold insults, and now that he was poised over me, stroking my hair softly and apologizing that I was hurt as part of my work for him, I was speechless.
“Really, it’s just a little bruise,” I whispered. This close, he was even more handsome. I wondered what had made that scar on his chin and why he hadn’t magicked it away. It was the only thing marring his perfection, and yet somehow, the imperfection made him even more attractive.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
Though I started to object, I saw that warning flash in his eyes and knew that he would get his way eventually, so I obediently closed my eyes. I drew in a deep breath, apprehensive. I could smell his deeply masculine, herblike scent, that smell that was so familiar but that I couldn’t quite place—it drove me mad. The sofa creaked softly as he leaned forward. My breath caught.
He pressed his lips to the bruise on my forehead gently, taking care not to cause me more pain.
He had kissed me before to enchant me, but this felt different. Before, in his office, the confidentiality kiss had been cold and perfunctory. Part of ajob interview. But this kiss, alone in the beautiful penthouse, with the lamp turned low and the soft sofa cushions at my back, didn’t feel perfunctory at all.
Severn sat up after the healing kiss, his eyes once more cold. “There. Does it still hurt?”
I touched the knot on my forehead, which no longer felt tender. The pain had already vanished. “Thank you,” I said softly.
I assumed that now that he’d made amends, he would leave and go off to the next task on his very busy schedule, even if it was the middle of the night. Demons attempting to attack the base of the New Court, sent by his enemy, had to be a major concern. But he remained, staring at me with such intensity that I finally had to look away, embarrassed.
Then his eyes shifted to my sketchbook, flopped on the floor, and he picked it up and started flipping through my artwork.
“Oh! Those are just sketches—” I was mortified to think of him, who collected artwork so precious that it actuallymoved, seeing my own mediocre work.
