Page 94 of The King's Queen

Finally, we reach one torn in half. A queen holding a spiked crown, silver and gold dripping from her eyes. The blind queen. No one knows of this one, as Irene had it destroyed in a rage, but I found it and carried it here. The relief I felt knowing that someone other than had viewed her as the villain woven within the threads. The artist had been hung publicly for treason for this depiction.

“The King’s Queen.” Rowan reads the threads along the bottom and inhales sharply. I don’t need to speak for him to know how I feel, how I am begging him to see. I bite my cheek to avoid from spilling my secrets and apologies right here and now. The thought of seeing him hung in the same square as that artist is all that keeps me from confessing.

“Wait, if all the tapestries were torn down, then why are there some still hanging in the halls? Unless…”

“The king allowed me to select and hang whatever tapestries I chose after my mother’s passing. I considered it an apology for him witnessing my abuse for years and never stopping it. I was supposed to be under his protection, and he failed.”

Rowan’s jaw clicks as it clenches, and I flinch knowing I’ve hit an unknown nerve.

I swallow thickly, suddenly feeling shyer than I’ve felt in my whole life. I find myself barely breathing as I lift my heated gaze to his. The mercenary’s eyes darken, and my heart rate spikes.

“Did you mean it?” I breathe. “When you said I was beautiful?”

The air between us thickens, only the sound of my heartbeat fills me ears. The world slips away as Rowan steps forward, his hands landing on my hips. My embarrassment fades as his predatory gaze is replaced by something softer. His powerful aura envelopes me immediately, creating this untouchable halo of comfort. We are the only two in this world, the only thing that matters is his touch and how it responds to mine.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. “We are in a room full of the most stunning artwork this kingdom has seen, and yet I can’t tear my eyes off of you.” One of his hands reaches up to cup my cheek and I lean into the touch. “You are beyond beautiful.”

Maybe it is the champagne bubbles floating from my stomach to my head, or the relief that I haven’t been imagining everything between us. Perhaps it is the thought that despite how broken and small I am, someone can still see me. For whatever reason in this wide universe, I lean forward on my toes and press my lips against his.

Rowan doesn’t wait a second before pulling me flush against him, his one arm wrapped around my midsection while his other hand holds my face to his. I respond with equal enthusiasm, throwing my arms around his neck and pulling him down closer to me. My spine curves into his touch. His body melds into mine as if this is how we were always supposed to be, long lost puzzle pieces finally merging. Two bodies, twin souls.

His mouth curves into a smile as his lips chase mine. “You taste like alcohol,” he whispers between kisses. I blush in embarrassment and try to pull away with a small sorry, but he holds me close, our lips colliding again. His tongue sweeps the roof of my mouth before he pulls back again with a sly grin.

“Never apologize.” He kisses my palm. “Now you taste like me.”

I smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, a full, hearty sound that has desire and love building in my gut like a wildfire. If he sees my blush, he doesn’t comment on in, just murmurs for me to hold still. With careful hands, he brushes stray hairs from my face, tucking them behind my ear. I watch mesmerized as he licks the pad of his thumb then uses it to fix my smudged lip stain. I look up at him, his face still locked in firm concentration when he notices my stare. He smiles.

“What?”

“I love you.”

Rowan runs his hand through his hair, his lips still puffy and slightly parted. I take a step closer, my chest now pressing against his. I can feel how frantically his heart is beating as I trace a finger up his forearm. He captures it and holds it against his sternum.

“You love me?”

“I love you.” I repeat, willing to say it as many times as necessary. “You don’t have to say it back. I understand.” Rowan jolts as if I’ve stabbed him. My brows knit together in confusion. What had I said wrong? Rowan must notice my frown because he shifts to grip my chin, using his index finger to tilt my gaze to his.

“Fuck no, that’s not it,” he swears vehemently. “I love you Vera, I promise.”

A smile stretches across my face as his words reach my ears. Coyly, I bat my eyelashes, feigning innocence as I allow myself to push further against him. “Oh, then what is it?” Rowan clenches his jaw and squares his shoulders.

“You need to stop saying shit that makes me want to kiss you again,” he warns. “It is hard enough to control myself as it is when you look at me like that.” His tone is serious, but I know he would stop the moment I asked him. He would halt everything immediately and step away if I asked. My comfort comes before any of his desires, and it always has to him. But tonight I’m feeling emboldened and tired of waiting in the comfort of the familiar. Tonight I want him.

“Maybe that’s exactly why I’m saying things, doing things…” I sway my hips softly, my arms locked behind my back as I lean forward ever so slightly. The minuscule motion sends his eyes darkening and his shoulders tensing. He pauses only for a second before murmuring “fuck it” and closes the small space between us.

Chapter38

Verosa

Idon’t remember why I waited so long for this, nor can I remember much as Rowan attaches his lips to mine again. His motions are painstakingly calculated as he shifts his hand from my waist to my thigh, bringing my leg to hook around the back of his knee. His other hand rests buried deep within my hair, pulling me closer still to him. I don’t fight it, allowing him to envelope all my senses. All I can see is his darkening eyes. All I can smell is citrus and leather. All I taste and hear and feel is him. I want it to stay this way forever.

His fingers press into my soft skin through the fabric of my gown, leaving fingertip-sized marks by now, I’m sure. I appreciate the pressure and tilt my head back as his lips leave mine to mark my jaw, trailing soft kisses down to the base of my neck. My fingers dig into his broad shoulders as I gasp.

Electricity shoots through my spine every time his skin makes contact with mine. Every time he murmurs something against my throat. The action is dizzying, and I hold tighter to him in an attempt to ground myself. His dark chuckle vibrates through my own throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark. We have to see your mother tonight.”

“No promises.”

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