Page 21 of Of Masks and Fury

But all she wanted was me.

I lifted the gown over her head, tossing it aside. She stood tall before me, her chin lifted and everything I craved in her eyes.

I skimmed my fingers up her arms and she hissed and winced. The sound was soft, barely audible, but it cut through me like a knife.

Everything inside me came to a standstill. “Minx?”

She rubbed her arms, curling her shoulders inward. “It’s nothing.”

I caught sight of mottled purple-black bruises wrapping around her upper arms.

Fingerprints.

Fury roared through my veins.

My touch gentled as I carefully shifted her arm, revealing more bruises across her shoulder, dark purple ones.

Someone had grabbed her. Hard, more than once, and recently.

“Who touched you?” The words came out in a growl.

She tried to cover the marks with her hand. “Trew, it doesn’t matter?—”

“The fuck it doesn’t.” Rage built in my chest. I’d seen battlefield injuries that looked less vicious. “Tell me who put their hands on you.”

“It was just…” Her jaw tightened. “My father was angry I left my guard, that I fled on my own. He wanted answers I couldn’t give.”

Red hazed my vision. The king. Her own father had done this. Why would I think anything else? After all, he’d whipped her.

My magic stirred, responding to fury so pure, it threatened to burn through my control. The temperature in the room spiked.

“How many times?” My voice came out deadly quiet. “How many times has he hurt you?”

Her silence was answer enough.

I traced the edge of the worst bruise with a featherlight touch, my hands shaking with the effort to be gentle when all I wanted was to tear Caldrith apart stone by stone. I infused healing magic, though the worst of them still remained.

“I’m going to kill him.” The words slipped out, flat and certain.

“No.” Her hand covered mine. “Not yet.”

“I love you. That means you’re mine to protect, mine to cherish as you deserve.”

“And I love you. That means I trust you to let me handle this in my own, vicious way.”

“Alright.” The word tasted bitter. Like defeat. But I did trust her and it would be wrong of me—again—to step between her and her vengeance.

I lifted her into my arms, and she wrapped herself around me as I carried her into the adjacent bedroom, lowering us both down onto her bed. I couldn’t let go. Couldn’t stop touching her, feeling the proof of her heartbeat, her breath, and her warmth.

“I’m not alright,” I rasped against her skin. “I won’t be alright until I’ve memorized that you’re here.”

“We’re together again,” she said, her hands cupping my face. “I’ll always be yours.”

“I just… I need a moment.” My voice came out rough.

She guided my head to her chest, and I pressed my ear against her, listening to the steady rhythm. Proof of life. Proof she was real.

A distant sound echoed, a guard’s footsteps in the corridor beyond, forcing us to still and listen until they faded.