Page 81 of The Masked Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 1)

A flame lights in my chest, the warmth burning away my lingering anxiety, and I wrap my arms around his neck.

Brahm lets out a dark sigh, and his fingers twine into my hair. The gentle tug takes me by surprise, and I draw in a startled breath, curling my fingers around his shoulder and pressing myself against him.

With a growl deep in the back of his throat, he deepens the kiss, making me nearly dizzy. Tasting, touching, wanting, needing—my thoughts are reduced to sensation.

After several minutes, Brahm lies back, taking me with him, rolling so I’m below him. He lies beside me, propped on his elbow, his free hand cradling the back of my head. The hard press of the wooden floor is a contrast to his soft exploratory kisses, and it nearly makes me lose my mind.

And then…Brahm pushes away. He sits up and presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. And though his eyes are dark with desire, his expression is tormented.

I blink at him, breathing hard, blood surging through my veins like I’ve been running.

Brahm helps me sit up, and then he stares at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

“What’s the matter?” I ask softly, tugging at the long skirts that are now twisted around my legs. I feel I did something to upset him, but that doesn’t seem right. He was fine until just a moment ago.

“We can’t do this,” he finally answers, his tone flat.

I hug myself, waiting for him to continue. When he looks up, I long to brush his messy hair back into place, but I know he wouldn’t welcome my touch now.

“I’m not allowed to court you,” he says, “so I can’t touch you like you’re mine.”

I sit up straighter and smooth my skirts, unsure how to respond.

“This is wrong, and I would be as wicked as Ian if I let it continue.” Brahm pushes himself to his feet and then offers me his hand. With regretful eyes, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me?” I demand, fighting back a horrified laugh as I avoid his face. “Or telling me you won’t kiss me again?”

Looking as frustrated as I feel, he says, “Both.”

“Are you telling me I’ve just agreed to a life of complete spinsterhood?”

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says, his voice raw. “I tried…”

“I know,” I answer quickly, sensing he’s on a precarious ledge. “This isn’t your fault.”

“My mother used you to attack me. For that, I am deeply sorry. But I swear, I will show you the honor you deserve.”

I try to offer him a grateful smile, but inside, I’m sobbing.

My future looks very bleak indeed.

* * *

It’s takenseveral days for the sun to melt most of the snow and ice from the roads, but they’re now clear enough to pass by carriage.

Goodbyes must be said, and they’re even more difficult than I expected.

“What do you mean you’re going back to Lord Ambrose’s estate?” Mrs. Fletcher exclaims, horrified.

I don’t want to tell her what’s happened. She won’t understand, and she’ll worry too much.

Thankfully, Brahm walks into the room, saving me from the conversation. “Are you ready, Alice?”

Neither of us expects Mrs. Fletcher to turn on him like a mother badger. “You’re not taking her! Alice has no obligation to you, and you will not manipulate her into thinking otherwise. Leave her be—go back to Faerie without her.”

“I’m afraid the matter is out of my control.” Less concerned about upsetting her than I am, Brahm waves his hand, making the air spark. “I tried to return Alice, but things didn’t go as planned.”

Mrs. Fletcher’s gasp mirrors my own, but it’s not his magic that startles me—it’s what Brahm has revealed.