“Well, that’s all I can do right now. When you’re ready, get dressed and come downstairs. Ryland has a plan to…”
“Thank you, Lyrae.”
Rooke tipped his head, silky, dark hair spilling over his strong, muscled shoulder, everything we’d said to each other trembling between us and for one wild, impossible moment, I wanted to…
“That’s the first nice thing anyone’s done for me in a hundred fucking years.”
He leaned back further, everything about him softening in invitation, from his indigo-colored eyes to those kissable lips, to the way his boneless body relaxed, like some powerful mountain cat drowsing in the hot sun.
Here I am.
Come and get me, I’m yours for the taking.
Gods.
Heat blazed through me so fast it stole my breath away, sparks flying rampant through me like they were carried on a wild tempest as I slowly, steadily, stepped away from the bed.
Breath shuddered in my lungs, because…fuck, I was tempted.
I was tempted.
And the sheer force of my temptation—sudden, ill-advised, and consuming—terrified me.
But…war. Gravelock.The artifacts.
My duty was to my queen, and Rooke…Rooke was a stranger. I was in love with Ryland and Var, and there wasn’t enough room in my life for anyone else.
So I wrapped a shield of iron around my heart, poured ice over my raging libido and pushed to my feet.
“Well, I do make a decent cup of coffee.”
I nodded to the now-cold toast.
“Once you’re done eating, come down. Ryland wants your input on this next part of his plan.”
31
LYRAE
Itold myself this was nothing.
So what if Rooke looked like some ancient Fae god of old? So what if his abs had been carved from a slab of granite? I’d seen plenty of handsome males before, and I could take them or leave them.
Still, I could barely breathe when Rooke swept down the staircase, impeccably dressed, not a single inky hair out of place, those blue eyes flat and unreadable.
Except for his unnatural paleness and glimpses of still-healing wounds, he looked exactly like the asshole who’d threatened to drown me when we’d first arrived.Good. I didn’t want to think of him upstairs in that bed, vulnerable and smelling of petrichor, mouth soft enough to taste.
Ryland pushed the Mirror into the center of the table, beside the Thorn, careful that neither of them touched. Something told me if they did, things would go very badly. As it was, that insistent pressure thumped against my eardrums, my chest tightening in time to the rhythmic beating of raw magic.
Above our heads, the pair of crows perched on the chandelier flapped their wings, before one of them circled down and landed on Rooke’s shoulder.
“Two out ofthree isn’t bad, right?”
In truth, Ry’s attempt at humor was probably too soon, but I gave him points for trying to lighten the mood. He kept trailing his hand over mine, a reminder of last night, of all the promises we’d once made to each other.
I was trying very hard not to let myself remember those promises. To focus on the task at hand, and getting us all out of this fucking realm alive, as unlikely as that possibility was looking right now.
“And the Crown? Tell me what happened.”
