“And I bet if I shoved my hand up your towel, I’d find you soaking wet for me. Again.”
She laughs. “Oh, Your Highness, how sad that you think that was for you.”
“Wanna bet?”
In a flash, I spin her around and pin her to the door, take both of her hands in mine, and shackle her wrists up high above her head. The towel falls, and she thrashes against me, fighting. But it’s not the way she fought me earlier. This isn’tI hate you, butI want you to fuck me.
She’s actually fighting me.
It slows me down for a beat, and that’s when I see it. The scars and welts at varying stages of healing crisscrossing her back. Slashes of white that make me freeze, ice over my blood, and slow my reflexes, not releasing her fast enough because my little siren drops her shoulder, twists her wrist, and nails me right in the gut with her elbow.
An oomph catapults from my lungs, and I stagger back a step. It’s enough of a hit to snap me out of my shock and thrust me straight into rage. I grab her by the shoulders and push her back against the door, getting in her face.
Because what the fuck? What the absolute fuck?
There’s so much more to her story than the bullshit lies she’s fed us. And I intend to find out what it is. Right fucking now.
21
ROWAN
“Marcella,” I bite through clenched teeth, panting for my life as I work to rein myself in while fierce protectiveness unexpectedly surges through me. “Sweetheart, I’m only going to ask you this once, and I expect a real fucking answer. Who did that to you, and where the fuck are they now?”
She snarls, practically baring her teeth. “Fuck off, Your Highness.”
I grin. “I already did that once today. Now tell me.”
She’s lying to me, infiltrating my home under false pretenses, and yet the sight of those scars makes me want to destroy whoever caused them. Is that why she’s here? Is she under someone’s thumb?
“I thought you said you were only going to ask once.”
I growl. “You’re such a brat. Is anything about you real, or is all your formality just an ugly ruse?” Then something hits me. “I spanked you today. Hard.”
Guilt gnaws at me, and my anger falters. I take a step back, pick up her towel, and hand it to her, doing my best notto look at her body as she snatches it from my grip and holds it against her chest.
“I’m not as weak or fragile as you think I am. Besides, why would a prince care about a servant’s scars? Unless you’re worried you fucked around with damaged goods.”
The accusation stings, and I rub a hand along my jaw, trying to think, trying to calm down, trying to figure out just what the fuck is happening here. I stare down at the floor, at her adorable feet still in her ratty flip-flops.
“Is that what you think of me?”
“I don’t think of you at all, Your Highness.”
I lift my chin. “Liar.”
She huffs. “You don’t know anything about me.”
That’s probably the first real thing she’s ever said to me.
I fold my arms across my chest, squaring my stance. “Then tell me.”
“Your Highness?—”
“Rowan. When we’re alone, when we’re like this, it’s Rowan.”
She smirks defiantly, knowing just how to push all my buttons. “And if I don’t?”
In a flash, I’m back on her. My nose brushes hers, and I bite her lip, my teeth sinking into the plump flesh as I work to control myself. “Pretty girl, unless you want me to spank you again and force my name from your lips, I’d start calling me Rowan.”
