Page 34 of Bride of the Fae Prince

I don’t think I could bear it if he is angry with me.

He sits on his side of the bed, his back facing me. Then he tilts his head and asks, “Would you like me to hold you?”

My brain sputters to a stop. What does that even mean? I’d have understood better if he asked me if I wanted him to docartwheels for me. I stare at him blankly until, eventually, he turns to look at me.

“If you’d rather, none of this just happened and I’m still asleep.”

A stray tear leaks out of my eye at his offer. I thought I was done crying, for heaven’s sake! A sniffle escapes me.

Ash heaves a sigh, swings his legs onto the bed, and twists toward me. “Just come here, Isabelle. It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.”

The effort to restrain this new well of tears grows more monumental by the moment. A few more tears leak free despite my best efforts. I don’t want him to see me cry—I’m not supposed to cry!

I don’t know who moved, whether it was me or him or both. All I know is that one minute, I’m sitting on my side of the bed and he’s sitting on his, and then we’re in the middle, his arms wrapped around me and my face buried in his chest.

He says nothing as I cry, just holding me tightly and wrapping me in his warmth.

“I’m s-s-s-sorry,” I gasp. Getting the words out is like fighting against a river’s current. “I d-d-didn’t w-w-want to d-d-disappoint you.”

“Shh, don’t talk. It’s alright.”

How is he not upset? Or angry? It’s the reassurance I need to tuck my head beneath his chin and stop fighting to explain myself. He holds me through my tears, stroking my back. At some point, I become aware of his fingers fidgeting with something near my waist, and then I realize he’s pulled the ribbon from my braid as he unwinds the long strands and tangles his fingers into them. It feels even better than when he stroked my back, and slowly, it soothes me until my tears have finished into little sniffles and hiccups.

“Thank you,” I mumble into his chest. “I’m sorry for crying.”

“I don’t mind.”

I find that hard to believe, but my shoulders relax anyway. “I can explain.”

“I don’t require an explanation, little wife. But if you want to talk, I’m happy to listen.” He twirls a strand of my hair around his fingers.

I hiccup. “I didn’t think you’d be this kind.”

“Neither did I.”

I sniffle, arching my neck to look at him. He peers down at me and gives me a little smirk.

“What do you mean?”Hiccup.

“I’ve never been married before. And I can assure you, I’m not this nice with people like your father.”

Somehow, that makes me giggle, and his arm squeezes me closer.

“But you’re so old. How could you not have been married?”

He chuckles, and the sound rumbles through his chest and into mine. I like it. Very much. “We’re not like humans who bond as soon as they reach adulthood. It is not uncommon for fae to be three or four hundred years old before bonding.”

“But you’re almost five hundred years old, right?”

“Mm hmm.” He combs through my hair with his fingers, and my eyes close despite myself. I’m so tired. Much more tired than I realized.

“Is it strange”—my question cuts off into a yawn—“to be so old?”

He chuckles again. “I am not so old to my people. In fact, I’m still considered young. We mature differently than humans. Much slower, actually.”

“Really?” The quiet question comes out on an exhale. He smells so soothing, like a forest after a rainstorm. And he doesn’t seem angry with me at all. I almost want to fall asleep like this. “How did you stay awake for so long? I thought you were asleep.”

“We don’t need as much sleep as you do. I thought you would feel more at ease if you thought I was asleep. I’m sorry I frightened you. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to go leaping off the bed like a gazelle.”

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