He snorts with laughter. “Of course not.” Long pause. “You’re supposed to attend a ball.”
I grind my teeth at the suggestion. “A ball?”
He nods. “There’s one tonight—in town, of all places.”
My eyebrow hitches with interest. “And how do you, a fae, know about a ball happening in town, among the witches, I assume?”
He dips his head and gives me a look full of mock hurt. “You wound me, thinking that I don’t keep up with the social scene in your quaint little town.”
I scoff. “I’m not going.”
“Why not? Go find yourself a witch.”
I rub my hands down my face. “If the lords didn’t worry about me already, they’d think I’d gone insane to marry a witch. Besides, I ran into one last night, and she was no better than any of the others.”
He leans forward. “There must be a story here if you’re bringing it up.”
Long pause before I finally admit, “She puked on my shoes.”
He roars with laughter. “What I wouldn’t have given to see that. Well, there you go right there. Any woman who pukes on your shoes is clearly marriage material.”
“No, thank you.” I give him a look of warning, and Trawick settles back in his chair. “She barely apologized.”
“What did she look like?”
Like an angel with lips so soft that I wanted to drag her into a cave and never let another man lay eyes on her, because if one did, I’d kill him.“I don’t know, reddish hair, brown eyes.”
“And did she have freckles?”
An image of flawless skin flares in my head. “No.”
He laughs again. “You paused before answering. She must’ve been pretty.”
“Hard to say since there was vomit coming out of her mouth.”
But my body tightens at the very thought of how she felt in my arms—small, fragile, needing protection.
And how, for the first time in years, I wanted to protect a woman.Morethan that. Every part of me wanted her. I wanted to own her completely, brand her with my body, fill her and hear her moan my name.
Have I lost my mind?
“You haven’t had the best luck when it comes to love. I get it, Feylin. But that doesn’t mean the past equals the present.”
“But it does mean I’m not interested in it,” I growl.
He pushes one end of the stick into the ground until it snaps; then he tosses the piece in his hand toward the trees. “Well, I’ll tell you this, and it might change your mind. The ball’s being held so that the Thornroses can marry off the oldest daughter.”
Surely I misunderstood.“What did you say?”
“You heard me—the Thornroses. This could be the chance you’ve been waiting for. Just think of it, you can finally get what you want.”
“Marry a Thornrose?” I nearly choke on the words.
He shrugs. “You don’t have to marry her, but go and see what it’s all about. At the very least your presence will scare the hell out of them.”
“And at the most?”
“You know what.”
