Page 38

Malik

W hen Malik woke the next day, he was sure he’d never rested so well despite sleeping little. Bronwyn’s lavender scent filled his nose, and he inhaled greedily. A smile stretched across his lips at memories of the night before. He reached for her, ready to pull her into his arms and worship her once more.

But the space next to him was empty, though the sheets still held a little warmth. Frowning, he cracked open his eyes.

As he blinked, clearing the sleep from his eyes, he caught sight of her across the room. The bit of apprehension trying to disturb his peace vanished completely.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t hoped she’d wake in his bedroom one day—that he hadn’t dreamed of a possible future where they could be together. In fact, that hope was the force that drove him forward, his guiding light. To that end, he’d considered what she might like and what might make her comfortable. The first thing that had come to mind was an easel and paints, complete with brushes and canvas to work on. It had been tucked away in the corner, but she must have discovered it and set it up, because she sat before it now on a little wooden stool. Her long brown hair draped down her back, warm and rich against the pale fabric of her shift. The apparent tangles in her brown locks made his chest swell with pleasure. He was responsible for those, he was sure, not that she’d thank him for that.

Worth it. So worth it.

From his position on the bed, Malik couldn’t see what she painted, but it didn’t matter. The woman he loved was in his bedroom, doing the thing she loved and seemingly at peace. There was nothing more precious in the world than that.

Malik lay there for long minutes, taking in the sight—the sun streaming through a crack in the curtains and highlighting her hair, the slope of her neck, and the way she’d occasionally tilt her head one way or the other as she pondered her work. He’d have been content to stay there even longer if not for the painful throbbing of his cock. Goddess above, he was a glutton for her. There was no other explanation for why his body still craved her so ferociously after the night they’d shared. Sliding inside her had been like finding home, a feeling he’d almost forgotten.

Quietly as possible, he slid from the sheets and pulled on a pair of loose pants he’d errantly thrown over a chair near the bed sometime before. He padded barefoot across the floor and came up behind Bronwyn while she painted.

Either she was lost in her work or chose to ignore him, but he’d wager it was the former. The painting she worked on appeared to be two horses galloping through a field. What a lovely sight.

“Good morning, Princess.”

Bronwyn gasped and stilled, brush held aloft. Her head whipped to the side, and only once she took him in did the tension slip from her shoulders. “Malik,” she breathed.

“Jumpy this morning.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“You startled me, that’s all. I didn’t even know you were up.” With her free hand, she grabbed for a blanket that must have slipped from her shoulders at some point and ineffectually tugged at it until it barely covered her lap. Pity. Her thin shift did little to disguise her form. He’d have to content himself with the sight of her dusky nipples where they prodded the linen.

“I wasn’t that quiet.” Though he’d certainly tried to be.

She sighed. “I’m just…”

His stomach suddenly dropped. His throat grew tight. “Do you regret what we—”

“No!” She whirled on him so fast that her brush slid right across his abdomen, leaving a green streak in its wake. Her eyes grew wide as saucers. “Oh! Damn it. I’m sorry, I—” She set the brush aside and started looking around in haste, likely trying to find a rag.

Malik simply chuckled. “You can paint me any time.”

At that, she stilled with a sigh and looked at him over one shoulder. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood.”

“You’re not?” His brow pinched, truly perplexed. There was no way he’d left her unsatisfied. In fact, he was quite proud of how many times she’d cried his name.

“It’s nothing about last night,” she said hurriedly. “Last night was…” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gave him a look that nearly had him groaning with need. “Perfect,” she finished.

His gaze locked on those pouty pink lips freshly reddened from her teeth. He couldn’t help imagining how they’d look wrapped around his cock. The thought alone nearly dropped him to his knees.

In the silence, Bronwyn shifted in her seat before tearing her attention away. “I really should find a cloth,” she mumbled.

“Don’t.”

She stilled and snapped her gaze to him once more.

“I like having your mark on me.”

Bronwyn swallowed thickly, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Malik…”

Slowly, he ran his hands through her hair to untangle some of the snarls, his nails grazing her scalp in a way meant to soothe. When a few knots loosened, he started at the top of her head and worked his way down again.

“What are you doing?” She stared at him in bewilderment.

“Trying to fix your hair.” He worked another tangle free.

She scowled. “Have much practice with that, do you?”

He chuckled at the obvious show of jealousy. Not that she’d likely admit it. “Helping my mother with her hair, yes.”

“Oh.” Her crossed arms loosened along with the tightness in her features.

“She liked having her hair loose, and she loved riding. And the two together?” He clicked his tongue. “Her maids always made a fuss about it, so when we went riding together, I would always help her comb some of it out before we went in.” Talking about her was hard, but somehow less so with Bronwyn.

“I think I would have liked her,” she replied after a moment.

He withdrew his fingers and tipped her chin up. “She would have loved you.”

She blinked at him, her features soft and doleful. “Malik.”

He’d never tire of the sound of his name on her lips. But right now, there was something else he needed to hear. “What’s troubling you?” It was something, that much was certain.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, pulling her chin away and glancing at the floor.

But when he cocked his head, she relented and said with a sigh, “My sister. The opera house disaster. Charlotte.” She hunched forward, head in her hands. “Just about everything.”

Malik knelt before her and pulled her hands back from her face. “We will save your sister,” he said slowly, making sure each word hit its mark.

“Will we? Mr. Davies seemed to know who the Dragon was. We were close. But now he’s…”

Dead. And by his hand. Malik’s lips thinned.

“We’re running out of time,” Bronwyn continued. “What if we don’t find another lead? What if they get spooked and vanish? We have precious few days…”

A week. Maybe.

Seeing his brave woman doubting and troubled stirred him like nothing else.

With care, he brushed her hair out of her face. “We have more leads, and we’ll track them down. I will make sure your sister is saved.”

Losing Ceridwen would destroy her, and that was the one thing beyond all others that he could not allow. He knew what must be done, but doing it … doing it could cost him everything.

Bronwyn almost seemed not to hear him as she continued to share her worries. “And Charlotte… Damn it, Malik, I had convinced myself again that she was innocent, and now? How could she not know about her brother? I need to talk to her. Find out what she knows.” She started to rise.

“Not now.” Malik urged her back down.

“But—”

“You’re going to storm off like this?” He raked his gaze up her form.

She looked down at herself, blinked, and managed to flush even deeper. She gnawed her bottom lip again before glancing at him from beneath her thick lashes. “You did destroy my dress.”

“You told me to.” Though he might have done it anyway in his eagerness to be with her.

“I did,” she conceded. “I suppose I’ll have to get a new one first, unless you happen to have one lying around somewhere?” Her gaze darkened. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m going to hope you don’t.”

Malik chuckled. “Jealous, Princess?”

She huffed and crossed her arms, scowling at him. “Why do you always call me that when I hate it so much?”

He slid closer on one knee, palm finding purchase on the edge of her stool. Bronwyn sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back, but he gave no quarter, filling the space before her and using his free hand to quirk her chin. “To answer your first question, no, there are no dresses here. And no other women have stayed in this apartment save your sister.”

Malik savored the shock that slowly settled over her—the widening of her eyes, the gentle parting of her lips.

“I did consider purchasing a few gowns in the hopes that you’d stay here with me one day, but I feared I’d get your size wrong or that you’d hate them. So instead, I settled on some items that I knew you would love.” He cut his gaze to the side.

“The easel. The paints…”

He nodded. “Surely, you had to know that it’s all for you?”

Her crossed arms fell free. Her form almost seemed to melt. “Malik.”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m not quite done.”

She sat straight again.

“Did you ever wonder why I tease you so? Why I call you princess?”

“Because you like to annoy me?

“Mmm, a part of me does, yes, I admit that. But, I think you like it, too. It distracts you. You can’t be sad or worried when you’re angry with me.”

The slight widening of her eyes told him he was right even before she said, “I wasn’t truly angry … most times. More annoyed, really.”

“I know. I’ll take that annoyance anytime. Your anger. Your frustration. Give it all to me. Give me everything.”

“I—” She opened her mouth, but he placed one finger over it, silencing her.

“If getting under your skin was the only way to imprint myself on you, I’d take it. But no, that’s not it.” He dropped his hand but didn’t rush to fill the thick silence that lingered.

“I assume you’re going to tell me,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

He inclined his head. “What do you call the wife of a prince?” When he leaned to place a kiss on her throat, he felt her pulse fluttering wildly.

She jerked back, her eyes wide as saucers. “Malik…” She blinked, her mouth a small circle. “Is this… Is that a proposal?”

A soft chuckle slipped from him as he smoothed his thumb across her lips. “I’d like to think I could manage a much grander gesture, but I wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to go ahead and say yes.”

She swatted at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes.” He grabbed her hand, placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “But you love me anyway.”

A small sigh left her flushed lips. “I do.”

“Then, Princess , know that I call you that because you are mine, and I will endeavor to do everything in my power to make you happy and keep you safe, starting with saving your sister.” He sealed the promise with a kiss.

She melted for him instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips parting, and her body forming to his. For a few moments, they were a tangle of limbs and emotions locked together in passion. Somehow, they ended up on the floor, Bronwyn straddling his hips and rocking against his aching cock.

When he growled against her mouth and tugged at her shift, she broke their kiss and sat up. Fuck. She was a sight, all kiss-flushed, hair tousled, sitting right where he wanted her.

Malik could almost feel the heat in her gaze as it crawled down his chest to the point where she sat astride him. Her nose twitched, and a mischievous smile bloomed on her lips. “Oh, look, you seem to have ruined another part of my outfit.” She gestured to the smear of green paint that had transferred from his skin to her shift as they’d kissed.

“Best take it off, then.”

To his surprise and delight, she did, tossing the garment away and leaving her achingly beautiful and bare atop him.

The dark curls at the apex of her thighs shimmered, and he could already feel her moisture soaking through the thin material of his pants. It was enough to nearly drive him mad. But as his palms settled on her hips once more, he saw that her features had drooped into a frown.

“Do you think…” she started. “Is it wrong to do this when we should be tracking down the dragons?”

He groaned. “I say we’d be fools not to savor what we’ve found while we can. Besides, do you think your sister would prefer you’d crept out at dawn, dress or no, or would she tell you to stay a bit longer?”

“She’d tell me to stay,” she said at once.

Smart woman. Malik smoothed his hands up her sides then back down to the tops of her thighs, needing to touch her, to move, before he went crazy. “And do you want to stay? At least for a bit?”

“Of course!” She rocked her hips. “I want you. I need—”

He bucked into her, earning a sharp gasp. “I know what you need. Stay with me, Bronwyn. At least a little longer.”

She leaned down, her breasts pressing against his chest and her tangled hair curtaining his face. “Okay.”

He grabbed her hips and ground his up into her, eliciting a little whimper. “Unless you’d rather spend these moments hunting shadows?” he teased with a smirk.

Goddess help him, she rocked back against him with equal need and fervor. “I want every moment with you.”

“Then they’re yours.”

He’d give her all of them. Every one.

But perhaps he’d savor this one more than all the others. Because he knew what he had to do, what came next, and once he did what must be done? Well, he’d be lucky for any moments with her after that.