I revel in the intimacy of it. Though passion burns hot in my veins, though every instinct urges me to lift her and carry her to the bed, I force myself to restrain that urge. I give her what I sense she needs instead. Reassurance, safety, tenderness, all wrapped in a single kiss.
When we finally pull apart, my head spins with the weight of the moment. She looks at me as though something fragile and bright is blooming in her heart. Then I feel it, a flare of warmth that almost feels like… love. She tries to bury it, to push it into some hidden corner of her mind, but she fails.
If only she could hear my thoughts.
If she could, she would feel my own struggle, the truths rising from deep within. When I’m with her, I don’t feel like I must pretend to be the brutal Winter King everyone expects me to be. With her, I am simply myself, the fae male behind the frigid mask. The fae male who wants her and needs her beyond all reason.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in, grounding myself in the warmth of her presence. I brush my thumb along her jaw, and I feel her shiver. The scent of her arousal also reaches me.Gods, yes.
I don’t just want her to trust me, to feel safe with me, but I want her to ache for me and desire me above all others. I want to possess her heart, and I want her to own mine as well. In fact, I think she already might. There are moments, like right now, when I’m certain I’ve already given it to her.
“Darling human.” I lean in to kiss her cheek, then pull back to meet her eyes. “I have another promise to make.”
“Oh?” she says breathlessly, eyes bright, face flushed.
“I will do whatever it takes to keep you as mine.”
CHAPTER 23
HELENA
I will dowhatever it takes to keep you as mine.
As I relish the warmth of Theron’s arms, the promise he made earlier in the night keeps echoing in my head. It’s late, well past midnight, and I’m tucked beneath the covers with my head resting against his chest. He holds me as though I belong there, so close to his heart.
I don’t think he’s asleep.
My thoughts buzz relentlessly, brimming with questions I long to ask him. About the bond, the times we could hear one another’s thoughts. About the visions. About Elssandra and the strange, unsettling sense that my life is somehow entangled with hers. But fear clamps down on my tongue, keeping me silent.
I guard my thoughts carefully, too. Whenever my mind drifts toward the visions or the possibility that I might be connected to Elssandra in some way, I shove those thoughts into the darkest, most tightly sealed corner of my consciousness, the place I pray King Theron cannot reach.
I shift beneath the covers, then immediately go still. Gods. The sensation between my thighs is unbearable, a slow, aching throb that refuses to ease no matter how still I lie. I press my legs together, fighting the urge to squirm, but it only makes the heat intensify.
A flush creeps up my neck as I realize the damage has already been done. My body has betrayed me completely. And worse, I suspect King Theron can sense it.
Is he lying awake, breathing in the evidence of my desire?
His breaths aren’t deep or rhythmic. They’re measured. Controlled. Aware.
I dare to open my eyes and glance downward…
My breath catches when I notice the unmistakable bulge beneath the covers. Heat coils low in my belly. I’m not the only one who’s burning up with desire.
For one reckless moment, I consider letting my hand drift down his chest… and lower.
A growl rumbles from his throat, and his fingers slide slowly through my hair. His entire body goes tense, and I sense his restraint.
“You’re making it very difficult for me to sleep, darling human,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a scolding edge. “The slickness between your thighs… gods, it’s driving me mad.”
I open my mouth to apologize, then stop myself. Why should I? I didn’t choose this desire. I didn’t ask for the way my body responds to him, or for the intimacy that keeps growing between us despite all the times I’ve tried to push him away. All the times I tried to guard my heart but failed.
I do care about him. That truth settles heavily in my chest.
And I know he cares about me too, at least in the way a powerful, possessive fae male cares for a female he desires. A female he thinks he owns.
The thought makes me frown. I don’t want to be a concubine or a pleasure slave, cherished only for my body.
But if I let King Theron claim me… isn’t that exactly what I would become?
