Page 167 of Flirting with Darkness

I craned my neck so the ceiling filled my vision—raw rock that glittered faintly in the light of the torches lining the aisles and surrounding the central stage.

Faolán squeezed my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I massaged my temples as I turned to him. “I think so.”

Damn it. He was too close and so fucking gorgeous, and when I licked my lips, I could still taste the honey from his kisses. Despite the cool air, heat raced across my flesh again.

I’d had lovers, some almost as handsome as him, but I’d never felt as overwhelmed as I’d been since that woman appeared in the ballroom.

Even as I swallowed, my hand crept to his knee. “I can’t…” I closed my fingers into a fist, but it still rested on the solid muscle of his leg. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.Isthis fae charm?” When I looked at him, his eyes were fixed on my hand.

The knot of his throat bobbed before he replied. “Yes. Hers. Not mine.” His voice came out gravelly.

Fuck. Even his voice hummed in me, low in my belly. What would it be like to have his head between my legs as he spoke in that tone?

I squirmed, hooking my ankles around the legs of the chair like I could tether myself in place. My fingers had opened and slid up his leg. Maybe he could distract me. Higher, higher. My fingers curled so the tips traced his inner thigh.

His muscles solidified, then his hand closed over mine, clamping it in place. “Little flower,” he growled.

A pathetic whimper escaped my parted lips at the sound. It was as though he made the very air shake, vibrating across my skin like a lover’s caress.

Nostrils flaring, he stared ahead as his chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “Much as I might enjoy this, I’m not going to take advantage of you being under the influence of charm. And much as there are things I’d love to do to you, I’m only going to do them if and when youwantthem, not because your body’s telling you you need them.”

Need. Need. Need. I did. I needed release, relief, to be splayed across a bed—or any other surface—and filled. I needed him.

My fingers flexed, but he held them in that same spot, not letting me trail higher.

Some part of me knew he was right to do that. Her tiny ounce of control kept my other hand gripped to the arm of the chair. But she was a small voice trapped in a cage and the rest of me raged at being denied.

This was a battle I both wanted to lose and feared failing.

A distraction might help. I stared at his hand fastened over mine. “If it’s not to take advantage of me, then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?” It was a nonsense question, since this was a dream, but I prayed talking, however nonsensical, would help keep my mind from the bulge in his trousers and what he might do with it if I asked, begged,anything.

I blinked, jolting upright. No, I was staring at it now, mouth watering. That wasn’t… “Why help me now? Why help me then? Why marry me?”

He opened his mouth, but I leapt on, stopping the predictable answer before he could voice it.

“To keep me safe, I know. But what doyouget from being married to me? Why bother to save me from the werewolves?Why?”

“Hmm.” His jaw flexed as he threw me the briefest glance. “Fine. No harm in saying here, I suppose.” He shrugged and squeezed my hand. “Because I could see how determined you were—how bloody pigheadedly, foolishly, plainstupidlydetermined you were to save your friend. So I knew marching you back to Albion would do no good.”

“You could’ve left me. Let the werewolves have their fun.” I shuddered at the thought and leant closer to him.

“No,” he sighed, shoulders sinking, “I couldn’t. Because I know what they would’ve done. And I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.” He shook his head, gaze drifting into the distance. “Not just death, but the pain, the cruelty, the screams. Even if I didn’t inflict a single injury, I would’ve still been responsible for your death.”

I blinked up at him. His stupid comment at the time about not wanting to ruin his day by listening to my death screams—there’d been a speck of truth in it. “Damn it, Faolán. Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“I told you Bastian was the Night Queen’s right hand, yes?”

I nodded, though I didn’t see what that had to do with anything.

“He does the Night Queen’s dirty work, and I dohisdirty work. My reputation, my… size, they help me keep the work a little less dirty when I can. Can’t have half of Elfhame knowing I’m a soft touch.” He lifted one shoulder with a rueful smile.

Reputation. I could’ve laughed. Almost did. Instead I prodded my elbow into him. “You mean, it was all for—”

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