Page 154 of Bride of the Fae Prince

The heat and privacy are more than enough to make my entire body go liquid with relief. Ash leans me back against the tub but keeps a secure grip under my arms, so I don’t slip beneath the surface and drown.

The silver of my hair leaks out into the water, making it shimmer like stardust. Dottie scrubs me while Ash keeps me upright. His forehead presses to the back of my neck. As though communicating both his affection through his touch and his assurance that he is not looking while my maid works.

It astounds me all over again—the way he loves me. The extent he goes to care for me, my feelings, my worries, my insecurities. It goes against reason that I could feel so safe with a prince of the fae. A man who broke someone’s neck not even an hour ago.

I love him. I really do. And I have a feeling that every day we have together, that love will only deepen. I hope I have the opportunity to look back on this moment one day and know that I love Ash more than I could have dreamed of now.

He and my maid work together to wash my hair until it’s back to its normal color. Ash gently pulls the length of it out of the tub and dries it with his magic while Dottie cleans my face of paint, glitter, and gemstones.

“I should be helping,” I mumble, even as I want to fall asleep with the feeling of Ash’s hands in my hair.

“You had one job tonight, which was to be poisoned and glamour yourself. You succeeded spectacularly.”

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?” I keep my question vague for the sake of the maid’s listening ears.

Ash goes quiet for a minute. Then, at last: “Yes.”

But it wasn’t the information he was hoping for. I can hear that much in the timbres of his voice.

“She’s finished, my lord,” Dottie says with a bow. She fetches a towel while my heart, which had calmed to a comfortable rhythm, skips five beats all in a row.

“I’ll close my eyes,” Ash whispers as she steps away. Then he drops his voice, and his lips curve against my earlobe. “Regretfully.”

I have no time for a retort, but the bath water is suddenly much too warm for my skin. Still too weak to rise on my own, Ash helps me to my feet and lifts me out of the tub. In the mirror I can see that he dutifully keeps his eyes closed while my maid dries me off and helps me into a lavender night dress.

“You are finished, my lady. Can I be of further assistance?” Dottie asks. Somehow, despite the work she has put into my appearance today, not a stitch of her starched apron or a single hair from her tight dark bun is out of place.

Ash opens his eyes, finds mine in the mirror’s reflection. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”

She bows and leaves, shutting the door to the washroom behind her.

In one fluid motion, Ash scoops me onto the counter. I gasp, surprised. At least I can hold my head up now, so I don’t fall forward when Ash leans over me. He plants a hand on the counter behind me so I can lean against his arm as he tilts my chin up.

His bright eyes study my parted lips, drift down to the gray skin of my neck and collarbones.

I wait, breathless, until his eyes lift to mine. His fingers let go of my chin, trail down my shoulder, my arm, until his warm hand comes to rest on my thigh. Still, he holds my gaze.

“I have always found you beautiful,” he says at last. “Always. From the moment I lifted your veil, I found you beautiful. I have no idea what flaw your father saw in you, but he was wrong. I understand why you don’t want me to see you like this—and I honor that. But Stella, nothing could mar your beauty. Not in my eyes. I thought you just as beautiful while you were ill as you were in a ballgown. As for tonight, you drank poison for me. For us. You’ve endured its effects like a warrior. Do not think I would look at you in disgust. Quite the contrary. When I look at you now . . .” His hand slides to my hip, tugs me closer to himself. The other hand on the counter shifts to my back and trails upward in a hot, tingling line. “I am almost afraid of how deeply I long to know and love all of you.”

His handsome face goes blurry in my vision. My lungs squeeze painfully tight, from the sweetness of his words and my frustration with our situation—that we should be married but still not fully each other’s—and my poisoned body for its weakness.

His fingers thread through my hair, tug my head back so my mouth is just below his. “But in moments of struggle, I try to remember that every sacrifice will be worth it in the end. Sometimes I cannot quite believe it, but if I let go of that belief . . .”

“It’ll be worth it. I know it will be,” I say as the tears clogging my vision slip down my cheek and Ash’s face comes back into focus.

He closes the distance between our mouths. Our souls collide with our lips, hungry and satisfied at once; full and empty both. He deepens the kiss as his hands caress my back, my waist, my leg. I close my eyes and let myself fall into him, knowing that at every turn, at every opportunity, he will choose me.

It’s the only true home I’ve ever known, and it is worth more than its weight in precious jewels.

He doesn’t stop kissing me as he picks me up and carries me to our bedroom.

He doesn’t stop when he lays me down, pulls the covers up to my chin. When he starts to withdraw, I find enough strength to push myself up, to wrap my arm around his neck and insist our lips don’t part.

“Oh Stella,” he groans. “You are making me lose my mind. And every shred of my will.”

Carefully, he scoots me toward the middle of the bed, then slips in beside me. The mattress dips from his weight, and then his arms come around me.

“I want you to tell me all of your secrets,” I whisper to him, snuggling closer. I don’t want to say the words aloud, but my gut twists, part of my soul insisting that this might be our last night together. I don’t want to waste a minute of it. “I want to know about the things you hide beneath the surface. The things you haven’t told anyone.”

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