Page 25 of Of Wolves and Wives

I blink at this. Slowly, I stand and make my way toward the bed. Her reasoning sounds utterly ridiculous, but I’m not one to argue with her. I’m sure she’s just following orders. Though, I’m not sure who would want to have me sleeping nude. It matters little if only Rykker and her are to see me in this room.

Climbing into bed, I let the maid pull the blankets over me. Staring up at the ceiling, I listen as she crawls into her cot. Quality of sleep, my arse. There’s no way this isn’t some plot to tempt Rykker or the other two should it be their turn to spend the night here with me. Still, as I snuggle under the blankets, I’m not mad that there’s no nightgown wrapping around my legs. Perhaps this claim wasn’t as ridiculous as I thought.

Moments pass before the maid’s soft snores fill the room. My own eyelids have yet to grow heavy as I lay there, staring at the ceiling above me. I lay still for a moment before sitting up. My eyes land on Rykker as he sits on the ground by the door, his back to the wall with one knee bent as he rests an arm across it. I note that his eyes are closed, the glow of the fire flicking across his face.

I hesitate for a moment before gently tossing back the covers. As quietly as possible, I tiptoe across the room toward him. His eyes open as I approach. He says nothing as he watches me, a single eyebrow raised. Slowly, I lower myself to the floor, shifting so that I sit between his legs.

“You should be resting,” he whispers.

His words might be quiet, but his eyes are drinking me in. I feel myself flushing under the weight of his desire as he takes me in. Slowly, he drags his eyes back to mine.

“I’m not tired.”

Without hesitation, and before he can order me back to bed, I shift. My hand moves toward his mask, but again, he catches it before I can lift the mask and find what lies beneath. I feel his eyes searching my face as I wait. Tonight, I can afford to be patient. If it means that I get a glimpse of what he hides from the rest of the world, I’ll be as patient as possible.

I see fear and uncertainty in his eyes. For a breath, I think he’s going to drag my hand away. But he surprises me. He drops his own hand. My heart begins to race as I lift the mask. I’m slow, giving him time to stop me should he want to. I pray to the heavens that he doesn’t stop me. Painfully slow, I remove his mask from his face. My eyes widen as I take in his face, my free hand instinctively clasping to my mouth as a gasp escapes me.

He is handsome. No, he’s more than that. With a sharp jaw and beautifully formed nose, and high cheekbones, he is perfection. Even the gods above couldn’t have sculpted a more perfect face than his. That is, except for the thick scar that mars his features. Running from his lips and covering the bottom of his face, it puckers his skin, and the flickering fire causes shadows to shift around it. Without meaning to, I move my hand from my mouth to trace his scar. It starts on his right cheek, where half the cheek was once a deep wound that’s now been covered with pulled skin that doesn’t quite cover the bones and his teeth peeking through.

“I’m a monster,” he whispers. “I know.”

He looks away as I continue to drink at the sight of his face. Scar and all. I reach for him, gently placing my palm over the wound. He stills beneath me, but his eyes still remain locked on the wall across the room.

“If you are truly a monster, then you are the most beautiful one that I have ever seen,” I tell him.

His eyes move to mine, surprise widening them as he searches my face for my lie. But I mean every word that I tell him. Even with his scar, he is by far the most perfect face that I have ever seen. Slowly, my eyes drop from his eyes to his lips. Without a thought, I sit up and press my lips to his.

For a moment, he stiffens again. Then he reaches for me, pulling me into him, and we melt into one another.

11

Rykker

Iknow I should stop what happens next. That I should deny her or leave. But I don’t want to. I want her as much as she wants me. I’ve never felt anything like I feel toward her. There’s a bond between us, stretching stronger and stronger with each shared heartbeat. It runs so deep that I’m shocked it's yet to slice me in half. Yet, it’s real. More real than anything else in my life.

She’s seen my face. My scar. The truth of who, of what, I am. And yet, she didn’t turn her back. She didn’t shrink away or scream out in horror. Instead, she moved closer. Her touch nearly broke me. It shattered a wall I’ve built around my heart.

Now, I don’t stop her as she shifts to straddle me. I let her take me as our breaths mingle together. This time, there’s no audience to entertain, no prince to give orders. It’s just the two of us in the firelight, coming together in a way that I never thought possible. We share our passions, our silent pleasure mixing with our breaths and beating hearts.

Once we’re both spent, I pull her to my chest, where she curls up. I run a hand through her hair as she gazes up at me. There’s no tremor of horror as her eyes drink me up. My heart expands with each gaze, each stray finger that explores my face a new sensation of happiness. Bending, I press a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you,” I whisper. “But there’s something that you should know, Rose.”

Rose shifts, putting distance between us so that she can glance up at my face. Her eyes are wide as she searches my face for a moment.

“Is it about Lyra?”

A frown tugs at my lips. “No. Though, I suppose there is that, too.”

“Please, tell me.”

“After she left here, I followed her through the halls. And I watched as the prince took her. She’s working with him, I’m certain of it. You should be careful of what you say or how you act around her.”

She shakes her head at my words. At first, I expect her to argue with me. To insist that I couldn’t have seen what I did.

“I’ll be careful,” she says after a moment, surprising me.

“Good.”

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