Page 176 of Flirting with Darkness

Being needed wasn’t quite the same as being loved and cared for as I’d been before my brothers and sisters came, but it was pretty damn close.

I rolled to my feet and muttered, “Are we training or what?”

22

WANT

If Faolán’s plan was for our training to send us to bed too exhausted to dream, it failed. Our new normal continued, dreams and all, and he didn’t raise the subject of my old normal again.

It still gnawed on my mind though, even as I sank into a bath one evening almost two weeks into our month here. They had to be managing without me, didn’t they? Or was the house in uproar? At least they knew I’d be back thanks to the note I’d left.

I nibbled my lip, staring at the tiled ceiling and its pattern of vines.

What if home was… just the same? What if they weren’t just managing without me butthriving? That was a possibility I hadn’t even considered each time guilt twinged in my belly.

Thriving or sinking under the chaos, which was worse?

Did it make me terrible to eventhinktheir thriving without me might be a bad thing?

I closed my eyes and rubbed my face, letting the steamy water run across my skin and drip down my neck.

Drip, drip, drip.

It echoed. Faded.

Drip, drip…

Sucking in a breath, I opened my eyes. The candles had burned low. I must’ve fallen asleep.

And although my muscles were loose, a deep tension coiled inside me. I’d dreamed… of something…

Breaths. Sighs. Cries and moans. A touch. Slick skin.

Snatches of moments, tantalising, teasing.

I huffed, rippling the water. I remembered enough to know it had been a good dream—averygood dream—but now my skin was afire and that tension low in my belly throbbed, dissatisfied.

Even though the water had cooled, my skin burned as I climbed from the bath and dried myself. I bit back a whimper as I towelled between my legs. Every part of me was too tight, too achey, too sensitive to the towel, to the tiles beneath my feet, even to the air wafting as I moved.

The silk dressing robe made me gasp, pebbling my nipples to hardened tips that pushed against the fabric.

I paused at the door and swallowed. Just like in the dream with the sapphire-eyed woman, I needed to get a grip on myself. I couldn’t walk into the bedroom and jump onto Faolán at first sight.

“We’re married. That makes it complicated, and I don’t have time for complications.” I pressed my palms and forehead to the cool tiles of the wall. “Besides, fae and humans end in tragedy.”

They were the reasons why I hadn’t kissed him again since that first dream. They still stood, even if my resolve was wobbly right now.

With a nod, I opened the door.

As I entered the bedroom, my gaze sought him out at once. Traitor.

He sat by the fire, mug of tea halfway to his mouth. He stopped dead. The candlelight painted his hair bronze and his skin gold as, slowly, slowly, he turned to me.

Again, I was struck anew by the crooked nobility of his face, the beastly beauty. The fire flashed in his eyes, more than gold, more than dawn, more than flame. Although there were faint shadows beneath them, he’d never looked more alert.

He lifted his chin, and his chest rose as he took a long breath. It rose further still, as though he tried to take in as much air as possible.

Then he was on his feet, his mug set aside, forgotten. “Rose.” His raw voice hung in the air as he closed the distance between us, his eyes intent on me like I was prey.

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