Page 17 of Waves (Tangled Crowns #6)

“Speaking of…” Watkins slid off the end of the bed and lifted his arms to either side.

“Weren’t you supposed to search me for weapons?

” A naughty challenge flared in his eyes and in a snap, like a wave that had crested, honestly crashed down and a new surge of water rose behind it, a sultry, swelling tease.

“Hmm. Yes. That. You do tend to be up to no good,” I teased as I stood and strolled casually forward, giving him a drawn-out once over.

“Can’t help but be suspicious.” With no shirt and black pants so tight that they melded to his muscular thighs, there was no chance he had anything hidden beneath them. But perhaps tucked into his boots?

I knelt in front of him in a deliberately suggestive way before my hands encased either side of his left calf and dragged slowly upward. My gaze darted up to watch his eyes grow hooded and though I was below him, his sharp intake of breath made me feel powerful.

“I do have inappropriate intentions,” he confessed as my hands dragged over the tops of his boot and slid up toward his kneecap.

“Really?” I let my hands glide a little way up onto his thigh before retreating and checking his other boot. When he huffed in disappointment, a chuckle slipped out. My check of the second boot was much more perfunctory and I gave his leg a ‘friendly’ pat at the end before I rose.

The smoldering frustration in his eyes was delightful. “You didn’t think anything was going to happen, did you? I take my safety very seriously.” I mocked.

“You should.” His tone was dark and menacing as it had been when we met, but this time that surge didn’t feel directed at me.

If anything, it seemed protective. “You aren’t finished checking me,” he intoned, reaching out and latching onto one of my hands.

Placing his own behind it, he dragged my palm around his waistband slowly.

Then around his back. “Never assume someone’s clean.

Weapons don’t have to be large to be effective. ”

“Said every man ever,” I teased, though the masculine scent of his was potent this close and I was having trouble filling my lungs.

His nostrils flared and the predatory intensity he radiated seemed to double. I drank it in, my nipples hardening.

Too much. Too much, too fast.

My lungs froze and my hand went to his chest, pushing him backward so that he sat back down on the edge of my rumpled comforter. “Tell me why you wanted to have breakfast with me,” I demanded.

Teasing was one thing. Our few hate-filled kisses another.

But alone, in my bedroom together? I wasn’t ready for any more with Watkins.

Not yet. We’d come to a truce, but we hadn’t come that far.

As much as the lusty side of my brain wanted me to stand between his thighs and then drag my nails down his chest, marking the skin red before I yanked him into a kiss, there were more important issues to weigh.

Like the fact that my first thought upon seeing him was that I’d been betrayed. My first emotion was distrust.

As if he sensed the change in my mood, Watkins sighed and clasped his hands together, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his thighs. “Well, there went the mood.”

I gave a single shoulder shrug. “Sorry.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s better, probably. I lose my head a bit around you sometimes.”

"Same." I admitted as a burning blush crept over my cheeks. “Is that why you wanted breakfast?” I repeated my question as I made my way to my dressing table and sat down on the stool.

“You didn’t even acknowledge me last night,” Watkins stated, the words flat and pinched. His face was glazed with the blue tones of the glacier light, which obscured some of his expression, but it almost seemed like he was…

“Jealous?” I asked, breathy, a little disbelieving.

His shrug was far too careless to be sincere and something inside my throat gave a giddy little leap. I was sorely tempted to make fun of him, but I was also highly aware that our trust was as thin as a strand of seaweed. So, instead, I chose to try to build that tenuous confidence.

“I’m sorry. What was your costume?” I scanned my memory but couldn’t recall seeing him. That was unusual. The shark shifter nearly always drew my eyes.

“I was a giant sea sponge.”

Picturing him in a puffy, oversized outfit that resembled a potato, I started to chuckle.

There was no way that this sinfully attractive man had dressed up in an outfit like that, but I did appreciate a fun lie. “What were you really?”

“I was!” He was a bit too indignant to be believable. But damn, his pout was adorable.

“Doubtful. I couldn’t have overlooked a giant pillow. I’d have been required to try it out.”

His solemn expression cracked into a smile. “Fine. You caught me. I was a dumb skeletal shark just like eighty others out there. But I always wanted to be a sea sponge. They get all the girls.”

Silly grins crossed both our faces at his bold-faced lie, and we sat there, staring at one another like a pair of fools for a moment.

If only it was always like this. If only it had been like this from the start.

Of course, a knock at my door interrupted us, because real life had to come barging in.

Luckily, this time real life just meant Gita, who started talking a mile a minute once she was through the door.

“Oh, my word, I think you might be right, Majesty! Humberto was just the most charming—” Her girlish blush turned into a red stain of horror that ran all the way down her neck as she cut herself off and gave a hasty bow, sinking in the water a few inches in mortification when she realized I wasn’t alone. “I. Am. So. Sorry.”

Immediately, I set out to put her at ease. “Gita, don’t be sorry. We were just talking.” I worked to ignore the curious stare that Watkins was giving me after her mention of Humberto. “Instead of getting me ready just now, do you think someone can scrounge us up a little bit of breakfast?”

Her nods came in rapid-fire succession as her tail deftly swiveled her back to the doorway. “Yes. Yes. I’ll go do that. Sorry.”

She was through the door before I could say thank you and the thump when she closed it made the water tremble.

“Care to explain why a competitor is charming your maid? And why you’re okay with that?” Watkins propped his hands up on the mattress behind him.

I shrugged. “I’m pretty certain she’s the reason he didn’t withdraw yet. But I wanted to nudge it along and make sure before I suggest he bow out.”

The shark shifter’s brows lifted as he considered this. “Matchmaking away your contestants. That’s a strategy I’d never have thought of.”

“Just wait until I toss my castle mage your way,” I teased.

“The fewer teeth a woman has, the better,” he threw back with a wink.

Our laughter braided together and for a second, I wondered if Watkins and I might be on a path toward true friendship. Toward something more. But his next words dashed all my hopes.

"I have another confession to make. Another reason I’m here this morning.”

“Yes?” Immediately, I stiffened, felt too tight in my own skin as expectations swelled inside.

Dithering, he picked at the comforter and my spine tingled with negative intuition.

“Do you know something?” I asked softly, visions of another attack tumbling through my mind.

“No. No!” His reassurance was hasty, but his expression fell all the same. “I feel like…you’re fighting a losing battle. And everyone around you, Keelan and his mother, Felipe, all these people keep telling you that you can win over Okeanos.”

“You think it’s impossible?”

A reluctant expression pinched his face. “Yesterday I might have said differently. But after last night…they aren’t just accusing you of being an air lover now. People are whispering that you killed that girl.”

All the joy that had been blooming in my chest from our interactions was crushed like a ship smashed by the waves.

“What?”

His eyes avoided mine as he recited, “They think you yanked the sea from her lungs. Used your ocean power to kill her.”

A murderer.

People thought I was cold-blooded enough to murder a scared girl in public? They thought I was evil enough to kill for no reason? With no remorse?

“You don’t think I did it?” The phrase came out as a question. A plea.

“I won’t lie and say it didn’t cross my mind.”

Bile rose in my throat, sour and burning. Watkins was being honest, but it just proved that our trust was merely a string. A single thread, so small it might as well be invisible. My fingers dug into the sides of my seat because I had to hold onto something.

This couldn’t be real.

But it was.

The dark truth sat between us, an anchor. A reality that was unyielding. Cold as metal. Heavy. Digging in deep.

“I don’t think you did it though,” he amended, too late. “Not really. I—for a second, I wanted my old accusations to be justified.”

“You are definitely not good at sugar-coating,” I critiqued as tears blurred my vision. Pursing my lips, I struggled to gain enough control to speak. “Isn't there anything I can do?” I asked, the question a soft plea. “To make them believe I didn’t do it?”

His eyes dropped to the floor as he said, "Changing people’s minds once they’re made…that’s something I’ve never been good at. I mean, I did. But the rest of them? I'm not sure."

Not sure.

Not sure.

That phrase seemed to define every aspect of my life. Including whether I'd get to keep this crown.

“It’s about belief. Who they think you are inside their heads.”

A sick churning filled my gut. "What else can I possibly do to convince people that I'm innocent? That I care? That all I want is to prove myself to them?" A whirlpool swirled inside my stomach as the amount of hatred I was facing seemed to double and triple. People had already hated me for being raised as a foreigner. Now? They’d use this girl’s death as an excuse to justify their opinion of me. To avoid giving me a chance.

Breakfast arrived then, but as the maids uncovered steaming dishes of eel, I found I’d completely lost my appetite.

How could I convince people who believed I was a monster that I wasn’t? Particularly when I wasn’t certain myself.