Page 59 of Crown of Roses
The High King looked over at her, and he was so close, she realized she could finally see the true color of his eyes. They were pools of twilight, swirls of purple and blue, flecked with the gold of the sun.
The corner of Tiernan’s mouth lifted. “I said I was going to give you a bath.”
Maeve watched him, calculating his every move. He grabbed a white washcloth and loaded it with soap, then gently rubbed it over her arms. She glimpsed the sunburst tattoo on his neck, and the way the golden flares seemed to sprawl across his chest, below the buttons of his shirt. He dabbed the cloth against her shoulder, where her skin was pink and angry from the dark fae’s touch. The wound was still tender, and she hissed when he pressed lightly to clean the area.
“How did you get your tattoos?” she asked, seizing the moment to distract herself from the pain radiating down her arm.
“Magic.”
Ass. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.” He moved her hair and lathered her back. “I’m the one asking the questions. Not you.”
“Fine.”
Tiernan cupped the back of her knee and lifted her leg from the tub. He washed her toes and ankle, working his way up her thigh. He repeated the movement with her other leg, methodically rubbing in deliberate circles, scrubbing away the grime and blood. Every nerve in her body was on fire, ignited by the awareness of his touch. And when his knuckles just barely grazed the sensitive area between her legs, Maeve almost jumped out of the tub.
He didn’t even react. His expression was shuttered, his sharp features in line with not giving a damn. Instead, his hand moved the cloth along her abdomen, then up over both of her breasts, as though he made a habit of bathing women. “Tell me about the cuffs on your wrists.”
Maeve tried to shift away, but the tub was slippery and she was covered in soap, so Tiernan simply hooked her by the elbow and pulled her back to him.
“I will only ask nicely once.” Behind his cool façade, the unspoken threat lingered. He would do whatever was necessary in order to get the truth from her. No matter the consequences. She didn’t even want to think about the capabilities of his power, and based on what she’d seen last night on the verandah, she knew it was well beyond her best interest not to cross him. He was a destroyer of worlds. Capable and violent. Violet lightning had crackled around him, enhancing his power, and he’d torn through the dark fae like they were nothing more than puppets on a string. His magic was far greater than any she’d ever witnessed in her short life.
“I’m cursed with fae blood,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.
“Come again?”
“Fae magic runs through my veins.” She glared up at him and angled her chin to a level of defiance, daring him to doubt her. “It’s a curse I’ve lived with since I was a child. One bestowed upon me by the Mother Goddess for being a bastard-born daughter.”
“A curse,” he murmured, considering. “What sort of magic?”
“I don’t know.” The lie was as smooth as silk when it flowed off of her tongue. Though she supposed it was more of a partial truth. She didn’t know what kind of magic cursed her; she’d never been fully able to tap into her powers. She knew she could make things, like pretty little rose crowns, but that was all. Carman had placed the cuffs on her not long after the courtyard incident when she was five, and the extent of her magic remained a mystery ever since.
“I see.” He dunked the cloth into the sudsy water, then wrung it out. “And why do you wear them?”
“To protect everyone else,” she answered automatically. The response had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember.
“From?”
“From me.”
The smug uptick of the corner of Tiernan’s mouth was unmistakable. “Tilt your head back,” he commanded.
Maeve hesitated, but worried that if she mouthed off with another smart comment, he’d shove her under the water and drown her. So she obeyed. Propping herself up with her arms slightly behind her, she leaned her head back into the bathwater, all the way to her scalp. Her back arched and the damned fae growled. Annoyance fired through her. What did he expect? She was a human. A mortal. And she was fairly well-endowed. It’s not like her breasts were going to vanish overnight. If he didn’t want them shoved up in his face, he shouldn’t have told her to lean back.
But then he was shampooing her hair, and massaging out all the kinks and tangles from her messy curls. He worked some kind of oil into the wild strands, and it smelled faintly of blackberries and citrus. Beads of warm water slid down her neck and in between the valley of her breasts. She bit down on the urge to smile in delight.
“And what of the Aurastone?” His voice cut through her thoughts.
A jolt shot through Maeve, and she jerked upright. Water sloshed dangerously close to the edge of the tub. Her Aurastone. She’d been so consumed by recovery, she hadn’t even thought about it. “Where is it?”
“It’s safe.” Tiernan dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “You dropped it during the attack. It’s under your pillow.”
“Oh.” How did he know she kept it there?
“What I’m curious to know,” he drawled, “is how you found it.”
“I was floating in a lake.”
