Page 51 of A Broken Throne of Bronze

He frowns. “Not this wine, Little Fawn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All wine is good wine.”

“Not this one,” Viridian repeats, firmer this time. “Not for you.”

I only scowl at him. “You’re no fun.”

“It’s fae wine,” Viridian grumbles. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs. “Gods above. How much did you drink?”

“A whole goblet.” I giggle like a child who knows she’s done wrong.

He curses under his breath.

“Come now.” Viridian scoops me up and cradles me to his chest. “Let’s bring you upstairs, shall we?”

“You’re not my keeper,” I slur. “I can take care of myself.”

“And you’re not yourself. You need to come upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” I whine. “But I’m not tired.”

“You will be in a moment.”

“I won’t,” I protest.

He ignores me and starts down the hall.

My skin is hot, little fires spreading everywhere his fingers touch. Even through my thick gown. The fabric is too hot against my skin, and more than anything, I want it off. And I know I shouldn’t, but all I can think about are his hands on my body.

All the naughty places I would rather have them instead.

I must have said that out loud, because Viridian’s pupils dilate.

“The wine has gotten to your head,” he says, his voice rough and gravelly.

Now it’s my turn to frown. “You don’t want me?”

“Oh, believe me, Little Fawn,” he growls, voice rumbling in his chest. “I want you. Desperately. But when I have you for the first time, it’ll be when you accept me as your mate.”

“Mate?” I ask. Perhaps the wine really is getting to my head.

“Yes.” Possessiveness laces his words. “Mate.”

Before I know it, we reach the top of the main staircase, and round the corner to my bedchamber.

Shifting my weight slightly, Viridian opens my chamber door and brings me inside. He kicks the door shut behind him and moves farther into the room. Lowering me onto my bed, his hand slips up my back to set me down gently.

“Stay there,” he commands, turning to the wardrobe.

My limbs seem to sink into the mattress, heavy like gohlrunn. I do as he says.

Viridian pulls something from the wardrobe and then faces me.

Slowly, he takes my hands and pulls me up into a sitting position. He kneels on the bed behind me and undoes my corset, pulling it off. Then, he helps me out of my sleeves, and pulls the gown off, past my feet.

I know I should feel something. Embarrassment, desire, something. Instead, my mind is foggy, wiped clear of any coherent thought.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe I am tired.

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