He must sense me watching him because his lashes flutter and then his head turns. He sits up so suddenly that Cruaih lets out a little yelp. “Focá. I didn’t mean to nod off.”
“My chambers are warded.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have fucking passed out.” He scrubs his eyes that are bare of their usual black stripes.
I wouldn’t say the male seems younger without a beard and makeup, but he does look different—less terrifying. The thoughtcarries me back to the last thing he said the night before. I decide not to let my jealousy encroach on my mood. “Have you thought about my proposal?”
He glances over his large shoulder at me. Though he removed his armor, he’s fully clothed. I suppose he didn’t want to risk guarding me in the nude. “I have.”
“And?”
“You don’t need to marry me to ensure I’ll stay at your side. I promised I would.” His Adam’s apple rolls as he sketches the slope of my bare shoulder with his eyes. “I’ve no intention of breaking my promise to you. Any of my promises.”
“I still want to marry you.”
With a deep sigh, he lays back on the mattress and turns onto his side, his palm settling on my waist. “I know why you asked me to marry you, Daya. You think a marriage bond will comfort me if our bodies fail to knot.”
I’m a little surprised he’s guessed my underlying intent. Actually. No, I’m not. Cathal Báeinach knows me inside and out.
“Mo mila Sífair, I don’t need a matching crown or blood magic to feel confident in your affection. Besides, I’ve never aspired to marry or to rule a kingdom. Do I worry you’ll leave me? Yes. But that’s because I lost you once.”
“You lost a woman who looked like me. You didn’t loseme.”
He bobs his head, his fingers walking up and down my ribcage.
“Please stop comparing me to her.”
His fingers hold still.
“I can’t explain why, but it makes me mad.” I roll my lips together. “And jealous.”
“Done.” He starts caressing the edge of my body again.
Wanting to feel his skin on mine, I push down the sheets and nod to his clothes. “Off.”
His lips quirk as he sits again and yanks off his shirt. And then he’s climbing off the bed, kitten in hand.
I push up onto my forearms. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t want to scar little Misery.”
I frown until I hear a door click. “You put her outside?”
“In your closet. Her kibbles are there so she’s plenty happy.” He tugs on the laces of his leather pants. “If she becomes as large as a tendu, I will have words with Asha.”
I smile, but then the smile trips off my lips because the male is bare, and I’m overwhelmed by another emotion, one that isn’t humor.
His curved cock is so hard it juts out and bobs as he climbs back onto the bed. He settles beside me while I stare at him down there with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. Mostly the latter.
“Tell me what to do,” I ask.
“Wrap your hand around me.”
I reach out and curl my fingers around him. His flesh is hot and silken like mine. Unlike mine, though, it pulses as though his heart dwells there.
“Why did you shave your beard?”
He slides one hand between my thighs. “So I don’t irritate your delicate skin next time I go down on you.”
