He takes my hands, rubbing circles into the backs of them with his thumbs. “Addison, you are sensitive. I recognize it because fae are, too. That’s why you like the clothes in your wardrobe and why you hate all the witch formals. Daisy knows how to create clothing that won’t leave you itching and scratching. So.” He tips his head, and warmth fills his eyes. “Let me do this for you. Try on some gowns and see which ones you love.”
My throat constricts. I don’t know what to say. It hits me hard what he’s doing, and that no guy I’ve ever dated or liked or even thought that I loved has ever done anything like this for me. Part of me thinks that I wouldn’t have let them, even if they’d asked.
Because deep down I’ve been spending my life thinking that I’m not worthy or good enough, but if there’s one thing that spending time with Feylin’s taught me, it’s that I’m more than the sum of what I’mnotcapable of.
And it’s silly, because my parents and family never made me feel like less because I didn’t have magic. That was something that I placed on myself.
“So,” he says, pulling me back to the present, “want to try some dresses on for me?”
Daisy raises her arms, lifting gowns that look like they’re made of the softest silk. Before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around his neck. The surge of power that explodes in my body when my chest touches his is nearly unbearable, but I bite it down. At least I do until his warm hands encircle my back, shooting so much desire through me that my knees become Jell-O.
And it’s right here, in this moment, that I rip down the walls that I’ve built around my heart. Feylin doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s a man of honor, unlike Edward.
“Yes,” I murmur in his ear. “I want to try them all on.”
He pulls away, sliding his hands down my arms and taking mine again. “You don’t mind an audience, do you?”
A blush flushes my cheeks. “I’m guessing that’s you?”
“Unless you don’t want me to stay.”
“No, I want you to see. You’re treating me. It’s the least I can do to repay you.”
His mouth tips up as he guides me toward Daisy. “Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Daisy winks and cocks her head. “Come on back, let’s get you dolled up.”
As I follow her to the dressing room, she talks to me over her shoulder. “You know, if I’d realized a long time ago that you preferred different dresses than what your family buys for you, I would’ve made them.”
My family’d been coming to Daisy for ages to purchase gowns. Every year we’d pile in near the holidays for our solstice dresses. But the truth was, even if the clothes were uncomfortable, I kept it to myself, figuring it was just one more way that I was different from the rest of my family.
Daisy wiggles her fingers, and three screens pop up in front of me, shielding me behind them. “Now, you remember how we do this?”
I chuckle. “I remember. Try to go easy on me.”
She smirks. “Girl, with King Feylin here, I’ll go as easy on you as you want.”
It’s only when she says it that the depth of his gesture strikes me. Feylin doesn’t have to buy me a gown. He doesn’t have to do anything, but he is, and he’s doing it simply because he wants me to be comfortable.
“My goal,” Daisy says with a wink, “is to have him looking at you with ten times more feeling than he had a minute ago.”
“What do you?—”
Before there’s a chance to finish the question, my clothes are vacuum sucked off my body. Daisy holds up a deep violetoff-the-shoulder gown that looks like it’s made of butter rather than silk.
“Raise your arms,” she commands.
She tosses the dress into the air. It hovers above my head for a second before sinking onto my body and zipping itself up.
The gown feels as buttery as it looks. There’s not one place on my skin where a seam rubs irritatingly. This. Is. Amazing.
“Away screens.” They vanish, and Daisy beams. “Why, I may have succeeded in my goal on the first try. Come on, let’s go show him.”
There’s no good reason why my cheeks are on fire, but they are as we make our way to the viewing room. The dress fits perfectly, the hem barely kissing the floor as I walk. When we come out from the back, Feylin’s lounging on a couch, his arm slung over the back rest.
He’s got a magazine in his hands, and when I appear, he lifts his gaze and does a double take. His throat bobs as he absorbs every inch of me. It’s not a scandalous look in his eyes. It’s something…different. Something I dare not voice. But even though I can’t pin words onto the emotion darting across his face, it still hits me, lodging a knot in my own throat.
And that knot, even though it’s a ball of emotion, doesn’t feel wrong. For some reason, everything about this moment—the way Feylin’s looking at me, the fact that I’m getting to play dress-up for him—feels right.
