Page 31 of Water Dragon
“You make it sound as though it does,” Malcolm remarked.
“Well, perhaps it does,” Iona said, her hearts slow and heavy in her chest, but there was no stopping herself. She wanted to hold him accountable for the hurt she was suffering.
“You just said it didn’t.”
“Maybe it matters if she was in on what might happen and I wasn’t,” Iona snapped, not wanting to sound so aggravated but having no way of toning it down. She was getting defensive, tensing all over, and he would be able to read it on her.
“Why?” he prodded.
What possible excuse could she make for being this selfish?
“Because…”
“Because why?”
She rested her gaze—that familiar inquisitiveness—on him, but there seemed to be a different depth there now. Something unfathomable in his observation of her, as though she could fall and get lost and never find her way out again.
“Because you asked me to be a part of… everything. A part of your court, of your council, your life, Mal. And then… you…Didyou tell her?”
His gaze was traveling across her face, every last curve of it, as though he was searching for something he had yet to find. Then he smiled the same small smile he had sent her way before he flicked down the visor of his helmet, readying himself for the joust. The one she had been unable to return because of the knot of misgivings in her stomach.
“If she’s to be my queen, shouldn’t I have told her?” he asked.
The words hit deeper than she could have ever imagined. All the times she had pictured Malcolm walking into the circle at the bonding ceremony to wait for his future mate, all the times she had imagined herself right there next to him in the role of his closest confidant, meant to wait with him for Lady Shannon to appear. Not one of them had hurt like this.
She swallowed, knowing she must have gone pale because her entire body felt numb, cold, distant. As though it wasn’t hers anymore. As though she wanted to leave it behind and get away from this place. Preferably in the blink of an eye.
“Yes, of course you should,” she pressed out.
It was the first time they were actually discussing the topic. She wished they could have gone a lifetime without ever having to broach it at all, but here they were, and the moment was now, and all she could do was accept it.
And tell him that she was leaving.
She couldn’t possibly stay.
She lowered her gaze from his, fastening it on his hand for some reason, resting an inch from her leg.
“You don’t approve of my choice?” he asked mildly.
“I do,” she assured him, but the lie felt like thorns on her tongue, and she added, “I mean, I don’t know that I do.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because…” She trailed off, reaching out without thinking, tracing a slender and quickly healing cut that was lining his wrist with dried crimson.
“Because why?” he encouraged, turning his hand over so that she was tracing his palm instead.
“Nothing,” she murmured, unable to look at him, too scared to breathe.
If she told him, it might ruin everything.
But if she didn’t tell him, everything was ruined anyway.
Her skin felt strange, tingling with anticipation. There was an ache gathering that she’d scarcely ever felt in her life, but she recognized it as desire, building within her. It told her to go for what she wanted just this once, come what may. He wasn’t mated yet and, if he had asked the lady, then he would stop this. And if he didn’t… Then she would have one night with him. At least she would have that.
She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t a seductress. But she knew what she wanted. She wanted to touch him; she wanted him to touch her.
She leaned forward, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it gently. Then she flipped it over, kissing the scar as tenderly.
