Page 8 of Crown of Thorns
“I think I can handle that part,” Rhys says, making me blush as he pushes to his feet from the chair he was sitting in by the window. I’d thought he wasn’t paying us any attention as he read something on his phone. As always, I underestimated this man who is determined to be my husband. It would do me good to never forget that lesson should he achieve his goal over my own escape and freedom.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she says as she bobs another curtsey and begins to collect her bits and pieces, tucking them away in her rolling kit.
“Thank you, Maeve,” he says gently.
“Yes, thank you,” I add.
She turns to look at me, her eyes soft and gentle.
“Anything for you two.” She says it more like a friend than a royal aid. “Oh, one more thing. I can’tbelieve I almost forgot it.”
She pulls a velvet box from the pocket of her skirt and hands it to Rhys before turning back to me. “Good luck,” she says and then she grabs the handle of her rolling cart and heads out the door, leaving me alone with this wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Rhys—” I whisper, knowing what’s in that box and not at all ready to deal with it.
He does what he always does and ignores me. When will I learn that this is never going to be about what I want, and only what suits his narrative?
“Let’s get you dresses, hen.”
He holds his hand out to help me up and I know that I have no choice. I’m trapped in this revolving door of doing whatever he wants until someone kills me. That, or I can be brave for once and take back my power and save my own life. It’s a thought for another time though because I’m just so fucking tired and sad. This isn’t the life I want to be living. I want to go back to my quiet apartment and the little bookshop I worked in, a place where no one died because of the choices I made.
I let out a sigh and put my hand in his, allowing him to pull me to my feet. I sway a bit before steadying myself, and Rhys wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me tight to him, my body flush against his much bigger and harder one. Being pressed up against him steals the breath from my lungs.
He unwraps the towel from around me, and theroom seems to shrink in size. It’s not the first time Rhys has seen me naked but this time, I feel completely exposed. He grabs something from the bed and kneels before me, tapping my foot so that I’ll lift it in order for him. I step into my panties and he slowly draws them up my legs, letting the backs of his fingers skate along my skin, heating me up, touch by touch, even though I’m still so uncertain of what lies ahead for us.
I hate that he does this to me. I need to remember that it’s all an illusion and he’s nothing more than a well-bred magician, skilled in sleight of hand.
He rolls the legs of a pair of black legging so that I can easily step into them and draws them up my legs before pulling socks onto my feet, leaving me dressed from the waist down.
He stands before me and wraps a band of lace around my waist, securing it behind my back. It’s when he draws the straps up my arms that I realize it’s a delicate bralette.
“It’s weird that you’re putting clothes on me,” I mumble. I could do these things myself; I have since I was a very young girl, mostly because my mother was often travelling with my father and then because I was a young orphan living with two men whom I now know were not relatives.
“That’s true, love. Usually, I take them off. I figure we could try something different for a change.” He winks at me. “But don’t get used to it. I’ll be stripping you naked soon enough.”
“Rhys—” I start. He needs to know that the flush on my skin and my pebbled nipples are nothing more than a chemical reaction and I’m not ready to let him into my body now. Or maybe ever. I have to be strong where he’s concerned but once again, he steamrolls right over me because I’m so fucking weak where he’s concerned.
“I’m mad enough to keep you naked and tied to the bed until you remember that you don’t want to be anywhere but with me.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.
“Good,” he says sternly. “You should be scared. If you’re scared, then you won’t run off and do something stupid again and almost get yourself killed.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“This, hen, is not rude,” he bites out. “This is fucking terrified because my hands were fucking tied, and I was across the fucking continent while listening to you scream and almost die. So don’t push me on this.”
“Okay.” I mean, what else am I going to say to him? He seems as rattled as I am. Maybe if he’s scared enough, he’ll see reason and let me go. I’ll have to wait, bide my time. Now is not the time to press for my freedom.
He doesn’t reply, only nods once as he grabs a lace trimmed camisole from the bed and pulls it over my head. He wraps a green and navy plaid coat dress around me and slowly fastens each button before gently lifting the fall of my hair to rest outside of the coat.It’s like he knows I want to reach for it and the movement might cause me pain. Rhys carefully guides me to sit on the side of the bed. He picks up a tall black suede boot and slides it on my leg, zipping it up. He grabs the other one and does the same before pushing to stand in front of me one more time.
He holds his hand out for me to take once again, and again, I do it, letting him pull me to my feet. And then he pulls the velvet box from his pocket. Before I can say no, he snaps it open and plucks the large emerald ring from the box, sliding it up my finger for a third time in our very short relationship. Twice it was wanted, coveted, this time, I’m not so sure.
“No,” he growls like I’ve done something wrong, and my eyes snap from the giant ring on my finger to his face.Well, excuse me. I was only in a deadly car wreck and am now being held hostage. Maybe a little sympathy would go a long way. “I’ll no’ hear it.”
“Excuse me?” I can feel my rage at everything, at the way he man-handles me and my life, at the way my wants and desires don’t seem to matter. Or the way I get absolutely no say. I’m just a pawn in his deadly games. Either way, all of it combined is bubbling up inside me and I’m about to blow my stack.
“Listen and listen good, hen,” he snarls.
