What the hell’s wrong with me?
This entire situation feels like a betrayal—to myself, to my kingdom. It was one thing to dance with Addison, but to turn around and announce that we’re engaged? I’ve truly lost my mind.
But no,I remind myself,I tried to leave the dance. As soon as she made it clear that she was a Thornrose, I couldn’t get out fast enough. But when my feet touched the grass outside, it felt like my heart had been ripped in two.
Once again,what is wrong with me?
It was my body that compelled me to return, if only to see her once more before I turned my back for good.
Which I would have done if she hadn’t been sucked into that argument. The pain and frustration in her voice sliced into my chest. Who was this man insulting her, and how quickly could I kill him?
When I finally laid eyes on the perpetrator, it took all my willpower not to laugh. This small, oafish man who clearly uses magic to enhance his looks had the balls to declare thatno one would marryher?He’s lucky I didn’t kill him on the spot.
Even now savage rage ravages my veins at the thought of her being hurt. Obviously there was no choice but to save her dignity, which I did, and I wouldn’t change that, even if my own actions make me sick.
She’s a witch. Worse, she’s a Thornrose.
One who clearly doesn’t know what I mean to her family. That much was obvious when they told her who I was. Well, if they’re not going to tell her, then I won’t either.
But am I wrong? Will they say something? The question flits across my mind for a brief moment. No,they won’t. It would only complicate things more than they already are.
And speaking of complications, now when we touch it’s…ruinous. What has the joining unleashed? My entire body feels like it’s on fire when our skin meets.
And I can’t get enough.
My cock stiffens just thinking about it.
Gods, I’ve got to get ahold of myself. Thinking like this is doing me no good.
But I can’t help it. If I could put a stop to it, I would.
Worse, what will Trawick say? He’ll hit the roof, no doubt, especially because of what a joining signifies. But he won’t be able to argue it. No fae can question the significance of joining magic—even if it is to a Thornrose.
I suppose the one light in this is that it’s all fake. None of it’s real. Just keep thinking that, and I can maneuver through this situation without a scratch.
Yet if anyone’s got nails, it’s her.
How would they feel raking down my back?
I shake the image of Addison, naked underneath me, out of my mind as I make my way through the castle in search of my cousin. If there was ever a time when I needed a distraction, this is it.
Ryals is sketching in my office when I find him. Sheets of white paper clutter the top of my desk, blanketing most of the documents I’d neatly stacked atop it.
He’s sitting in my leather chair, neck bent, shoulders hunched. Sunlight pools on his back and the top of his head. He rotates his shoulders as if adjusting because of the heat.
I lightly tap the edge of my desk. “And what are you sketching today?”
“The falcon,” he says without bothering to look up. “But this time he’s bringing me the mouse.”
I glance at the drawing. The detailing on the falcon’s exceptional—shadows and highlights fall exactly where they should as the bird dives toward an outstretched hand, the mouse falling from its open talons.
He sighs. “I suppose you want your chair back.”
I ruffle his hair and drop onto the seat across from him. “No. You can keep it.”
“Thank you,” he says, sounding surprised.
I steeple my fingers and breathe in deeply. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
