Page 76 of The Stolen Crown

I knew what it looked like when someone needed to be free of something painful, something rancid, on their flesh.

Tait wanted to be free of a sensation. Me.

All he’d done was touch me, skin to skin, blood to blood. Where I thought he was upset over the yellowfin venom, now I realized it was because he was forced to handle my body, my flesh. The bloodless drain to his face, the sharper draw of breath through his nose, the way his hands trembled and words stuttered. Every sign he wanted to retch was there.

He was…disgusted.

The knot in my chest, from my cracked heart or shattered pride, was a dull knife carving through flesh and bone.

“If you would have told me how much you could not stand me, I would never have bothered you as I do.” Gods, how I despised the way my voice broke. Tait whirled around, breathless. “I would’ve even told Livia and Bloodsinger to assign someone else if I knew how much you hated being near me.”

“Mira, you’re all right. You’re all right.” He practically panted, repeated the truth, as though he could not believe it. As though he anticipated something else. The flicker of a weak smile began.

“I’ll see to it you never have to touch me again.”

Tait shook his head. He closed his eyes, fists clenched. “No, Mira, you don’t understand.”

“Stop it.” Tears dripped onto my cheeks. “I may be a princess, I may be important to your queen, but I do not need to be treated like a child. This is so much worse. To think you might’ve…Gods, I’m a fool.”

I could not finish before I reeled around and limped back the way I came.

“Mira!” Tait shouted. Leaves rustled. Twigs snapped. He was gaining. “Please, let me explain.”

I ought to. I’d never been one for misunderstandings—they were so often solved by a simple conversation—but something had broken inside me. I wasn’t certain anything he might say could repair the humiliation, the heartbreak, until…

Tait’s palm gripped my wrist. I drew to a halt, tears on my face, jagged bits of my heart lodged in my chest. I tried to wrench free, certain even this would send him back to the pond to wipe away any hint of me, but Tait tightened his hold and slowly drew my back against his front.

I felt each rapid rise of his chest, felt the heat of his damp skin.

When one of his sturdy arms curled around to hold me over my chest, I went still. His other palm splayed over my middle. Tait clung to me.

He drew his lips close to my ear. “Dance with me, Vicious.”

Breath caught in my throat. Slowly, I turned my head. “What?”

“Dance with me.” Tait let his brow drop to my shoulder. His hold around my body tightened. “Please.”

“I don’t know…What are you doing?”

“Please. I need to…I need to know you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“Then let me show you…Gods, let me touch you and I’ll tell you. Anything you want.”

Desperation bled over every damn word, to the point each one gutted me where I stood.

With slow, uneven steps, I twisted around. This close to him, my nose barely reached the tattoo over his chest. I was forced to tilt my chin to meet his gaze. Hells, those eyes. The way he looked at me, it was like sunlight bleeding out. Each glimmer of crimson overpowered the gold as though Tait were burning from the inside out.

Lips parted, Tait lifted his palm between us, waiting for me to take hold of his hand.

I shook my head. “You clearly cannot stand to touch me. Stop forcing it.”

Tait swallowed with effort. “I don’t think I am. One dance, that’s all.”

No mistake, I was as brainless as I’d accused him of making me out to be, for I did not refuse. I slipped my hand into his and took a half step back, giving our feet space to move. Tait tenderly encircled my waist with his other arm.

“I’ll be honest,” he whispered, “I’m not skilled at all.”