Page 136 of Sworn to the Shadow Throne

“Owain, shhh,” I placed one finger over his lips.

His eyes returned to their normal stormy purple, peering down at me between dark lashes. “My performance wasn’t the least bit…impressive,” he grumbled.

I nearly fainted from climaxing so hard, but…okay.

I’d basically done the exact same thing as him. But I only said, a bit smugly, “I helped move things along.”

His grin stretched so far it seemed to erase every line of worry on his face.

With the high of pleasure ebbing, a subtle sense of caution began to return. My voice came out a little breathless. “This doesn’t fix everything…”

“It doesn’t.” Owain’s expression sobered at once, but he didn’t release me. If anything, the hand still on my hip gripped it even more possessively. “But maybe it can be a beginning. I’ll keep trying to be better. We’ll go at your pace. But Luna… I’ll never stop dreaming about the way you taste.”

His eyes went glassy. He seemed to be lost in the memory of licking his fingers again.

“Owain!” Heat flooded my cheeks, which was utterly preposterous considering where his hand had just been. “We still have to work on things,” I insisted. The honesty in his voice had stolen some of the fire from my anger, but it hadn’t disappeared entirely. I trusted him, but I still couldn’t trust myself.

His face was so earnest. “I’ll beg. I want you, Lunette. Gods, no—I need you.”

The warmth of what had just passed between us retreated like a spring snowstorm, leaving the wilted shapes of everything we hadn’t yet solved exposed to sunlight once again. “Is this coming from Reina’s mad plan to get the court to think we’re set to be betrothed?”

“No,” he said firmly. Then, almost hesitantly, quietly, he asked, “Will you marry me?”

The word “marry” lingered in the air between us. For three full heartbeats, I didn’t move or breathe. Some traitorous, hopeful part of me turned it over like a coin found on the road—testing its weight, checking whether it was real. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

I whacked him across the arm with my fingers—not hard, but hard enough to get his attention. Fear took hold of my tongue. “Stop toying with me, Owain! What a ridiculous thing for a man with spend all over the front of his trousers to joke about.”

“You stay right here,” he ordered, still grinning. But as he turned to rise from the bed, I was certain I saw a flash of hurt on his face.

Did he… Could he have actually meant that?

No. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t choose me even if he wanted to. This whole arrangement was nothing more than a ruse. Nobility might want me, but not royalty. They required land, armies, or gold to take a bride.

Right?

He returned to the bed with a wet towel in one hand and a few dry ones in the other. When he placed the wet one in my hands, it was warm with the lingering heat of magic. He placed another dry one beside me on the bed, while holding the others over himself as a shield.

“I need to go next door to change,” he said, grimacing. “Easier to sneak out this way than ruin Muffin’s enclosure and hop porches.”

At the sound of his name, Muffin came running back in from the porch. The first thing he did was jump in a circle around Owain’s leg. Little traitor.

“Muffin will follow me on a small adventure while I change.” His eyes met mine with a force that I could almost feel. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. I didn’t know if I was ready for this, but it was probably time.

He looked down at me, expression unreadable for two breaths, then walked, posture held with military precision, out the door, Muffin following at his feet. I took the time to freshen up and straighten my clothing.

Owain knocked on my door a few minutes later, offering a tight smile and holding Muffin out like a prize. I took the squirming veska just for him to run away the second I lost my grip.

So I’m not good enough now.

He wriggled through the tiny opening linking my room to his porch enclosure, off to chase whatever small creature had found itself within his territory.

He stood a few feet into the room, looking a bit lost. The tightness in his body screamed of stress and a considerable amount of discomfort. I hated to see it.

“If we’re talking, you can at least sit down,” I said. “With you in and out of my room… I hate to wonder what the guards think. Let’s talk about that first.”

Owain pulled out the chair at the table closest to me. I didn’t like the cocksure grin he was trying to hide one bit. “If their worst guess is sex, they’d be right.”