Page 55 of Contested Crown

“I thought…” I trailed off significantly, pulling my hands apart in a mock explosion.

“I don’t understand it either. But I can’t leave you here, unprotected.” Cade swallowed, looking away.

I walked forward, crouching in front of him and pressing my palm to his chest significantly. “Are you sure?”

There was no way I was comfortable leaving him with less magic than he needed. Everyone was being nice now, but I wondered how long that would last. They wanted something from Cade, and I wasn’t sure what they would do to get it.

Cade reached up, pulling down at the neck of his shirt to reveal a thick braid of tattoo under his collarbones. When his eyes met mine, they were firm, commanding. “I’m sure.”

I nodded slowly, realizing I was crouched between his thighs and he was above me, looking down. One of his hands reached for mine where it rested on his thigh. He held his grip tight around my wrist.

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, and I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Not with Cade sitting there, looking down at me, the sharp lines of his face so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

“What am I going to do?” Cade murmured. He squeezed my wrist tight again, so many things in the touch.

“I don’t know,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“The question isn’t what Iwantto do. The question is what Ihaveto do.” His hand was so tight on my wrist that it felt like a manacle. I could feel what he thought he had to do in that touch because I felt the same urge beating in my chest.

He wanted to keep me safe, the same way I wanted to keep him from harm. The trouble was we were both in danger, and he might be willing to sacrifice his freedom for me, but I wasn’t willing to let him.

I sat back on my heels, my hand sliding free from his grip.

“Did you know about Summer before?”

Cade shook his head, leaning back into the soft cushion. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “No. There have always been rumors that perhaps something was wrong with her. They stopped bringing her out in public when she was a child. I hoped that they were just giving her the privacy the rest of us heirs weren’t privy to.”

“Do you want to be king of House Morrison, with House Bartlett vassal?” I kept my words flat. He wasn’t wrong. This was not only a solution, but it was possibly the best solution.

With him in charge of both houses, their combined strength would make them not only the strongest house in North America but possibly the strongest house in the world.

None of the other houses, even the principal houses, would be able to stand against him.

Cade’s eyes dropped to my lips, then lower to my throat.

“It’s not about what I want,” Cade repeated.

“It should be.” I traced my eyes up his arms, all the way past his plush lips and sharp cheekbones to his eyes, wanting to lose myself in the reassuring chill.

Only when had they become so warm? When had I become able to read his every emotion just by looking at them?

“I don’t have that luxury,” Cade said. “I’m not sure I ever did. But with you, I definitely don’t.”

I wanted to rear back, give myself space, the way I always had whenever anyone got too close. I thought about what Krista had said. I didn’t have friends.

So why was I letting Cade be so much more than a friend? Why was I imagining him reaching down and grasping my neck in his hand, owning me, owning my body the way that he owned my heart?

Sitting back, I cleared my throat. “We should see if they took anything from our stuff.”

It was a cop-out, and Cade’s face dimmed.

I stood, offering my hand over to Cade. He took my palm, pulling himself up. His magic was on the surface of my skin, gliding across my flesh. I could feel the promise of it deep in my soul. He was my pack. I needed to tell him, needed to explain what that meant, but I didn’t dare.

I couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if he rejected it.

“Yes. God forbid they steal the cheap clothing we got at thrift stores and the discount rack.” Cade’s voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a slight curl to his lip.

“You’re very high-and-mighty for a man who can’t afford anything else. If it weren’t for me, you couldn’t even afford a thrift store.” I went over to my bag, unzipping it. The newspaper was on top still, so either they had been very careful to put everything back when they searched the contents, or they’d searched it with magic and never actually looked at anything.