He smirked. “I assure you my academics were rigorous, but my studies also included learning to read people and all the things theyweren’tsaying.”
Her features scrunched up in a way that told him she thought that was the most inane thing she’d ever heard. “That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is, tiny fiend,” he replied.
“Is that so?” she demanded.
“It is.”
“I would just say what I’m thinking.”
“I want to believe that, but…”
She sat up straighter, the move pushing out her chest, and fuck him, because that nightdress was cut far too low and the sheerness left little to the imagination. Contrary to her belief, he hadn’t picked out her wardrobe. He’d simply put in an order for all the clothing a queen would require, and whoever had been given the task had included these items that tortured him daily.
“But what?” Kailia asked, and Cethin wasn’t sure if she was offended or if it was a genuine question.
“But I believe that watching from the smoke and ashes may have affected your own education in that area,” he answered. “You can read people, sure, but you find it difficult to interact with them or use that knowledge to your advantage.”
She blinked at him, her features turning a faint shade of red that wasn’t from embarrassment. That was anger.
“You know nothing of my past,husband.”
“I’m aware,wife.That was why I asked a question. I assume your past has everything to do with why you fear touch.”
“I don’t fear touch,” she retorted. “I just don’t like it.”
“Then you’ve never been touched properly,” he replied, the words simple in the same way she often spoke. As if it were merely a fact.
Her eyes narrowed. “And I supposeyouare the one who could change all that? You are the one who could touch meproperly?”
He said nothing, remaining motionless in the same way she often did. Watching and waiting.
“Tell me, king, what is the proper way to touch someone? To get what you want with soft touches? To maintain control with punishing ones? To manipulate with caresses? To claim ownership with ones that leave bruises behind? If that is the case, I’ve been touched properly so many times, they linger like phantoms. Living and breathing, with memories of their own. I do not need more,” she finished, her small frame heavingslightly with emotion he only saw from her when she was lost to her panic.
Long, silent moments passed. Him watching her. Her perched on the desk, once more emotionless as she regained her composure. He gave her that time. They were in no hurry. He needed the respite to get his own emotions under control because his power was straining and writhing beneath his skin. He’d assumed she’d experienced something traumatic. No one was that averse to touch who hadn’t, but to hear it said aloud made him want to let that power loose. Let the death in his veins feast.
Finally, each word tight and controlled, he said, “None of those are the proper way to touch someone, Kailia. I’d love to meet the people who taught you they were.”
“Too bad you’re locked behind your Wards,” she sneered.
“For now,” he agreed.
“What does that mean?”
“Another conversation for another time. Back to you not liking touch?—”
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied. “There is absolutely a proper way to touch someone. Soft touches to give you whatyouwant. Caresses to bring pleasure. Possessive ones that don’t leave bruises but security, knowing you are cared for.”
“And to maintain control?” she countered, lifting her chin.
“If I wanted control, I’d take it, and I wouldn’t need to touch you,” he replied. “Touch can be all those things you’ve experienced, but touch can also be safety and pleasure and desire.”
“And I suppose you want to show me that?” she asked, eyeing him with derision.
“I wouldn’t say no,” he said with a mocking smirk.
