Page 41 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

“I won’t hover.” My lips twitch as I try not to smile. “I’ll pull up a chair.”

“I’m not going to chase you out of your bed, Alice—not even for a few hours.”

“Have it your way,” I say stubbornly, crawling onto the bed and sitting primly on the other side with my back against the headboard. Sternly, I point to the pillow beside me. “Sleep.”

The masked man twists around to face me, looking like he knows he should protest. Exhaustion, however, wins.

“Fine,” he says with a heavy sigh. “But only for a few minutes.”

“I’ll wake you after a bit,” I promise.

He shifts until his head is atop the pillow and his back faces me.

When I run my hand over his shoulder, he flinches. But his muscles soften as I slowly stroke down his arm, back up, and then repeat the movement.

Minutes later, his breathing becomes deep and even.

I look at the bandit’s still figure—his long legs, slightly bent, his broad shoulders and tapered back. He’s truly beautiful.

If he were mine—if this were our room—I would lean down and press a kiss to his back, wrap an arm over his waist, and then snuggle in close.

Perhaps he’d stir, rolling over and taking me into his arms, kissing me long and slow before we both drifted to sleep. I wouldn’t have to wake him; he wouldn’t have to leave.

These are fanciful thoughts considering he won’t even share his identity with me. Why does he trust me enough to sleep in my presence, but he won’t take off the mask?

I could do it now, while he’s unconscious and so close, but I won’t violate his trust like that.

He’ll show me when he’s ready.

* * *

I wake with a jolt,realizing I fell asleep. The sky is lightening with early dawn, and birds chatter outside the window.

I roll over in the bed, preparing to urgently rouse the masked man.

But he’s gone.

Coming to my senses, I realize he must have woken on his own and left. The bloodied jacket, shirt, and cloth are missing as well, and there are no stains on the coverlet.

There’s no sign of his visit whatsoever, making me wonder if I dreamed the whole thing.

But I’m still atop the covers, and I’m now blanketed by a quilt. The thought of the bandit draping it over me while I slept warms me more than the blanket itself, and I close my eyes and snuggle into the pillow, preparing to sleep for a while longer.

When I do rise, I realize that we parted without a goodbye yet again.

How long will it be before I see him this time?