Page 87 of Consort's Glory
Hands, big hands, closed over her naked hips to draw her under the water. This close, the steam parted to reveal her elf, his expression full of a certain type of hunger that had, as far as she was aware, never been directed her way before.
Warm water soaked her hair, slicking it against the column of her spine as she tilted her head back to look at him.
“You’re very tall.” Good goddess, Margot, is that the best you’ve got?
Theodore’s smile curved wider as he drew her in by inches, his thumbs pressing against the bows of her hip bones. “Noticed that, huh? Is that a problem for you?”
His smug expression didn’t convey the smallest hint of worry. “No,” she answered anyway. “But I’m awfully short compared to you. I don’t want you getting a crick in your neck.”
Margot usually didn’t dwell on the things she didn’t inherit from her mother. Her height was one of those things. Becoming bitter about it wouldn’t have solved a single one of her problems, but just then, Margot might have liked to be elf-tall, so she could run her nose along the swell of Theodore’s cheek without having to ask him to bend down first.
“I like your size,” he assured her. “I don’t mind if I have to get on my knees to kiss you. I get to kiss you.”
Margot’s insides twisted, everything in her tangling for one heart-stopping instant before the tension released with a rush of pure affection. Water gathered in droplets on the fringe of her eyelashes as she let him pull her against his slick skin. His erection prodded her hip, but she barely noticed it.
Theodore had her complete attention; he held it in his hands with a single look of pure, boyish joy.
You love me, she thought, her throat too tight to say the words aloud. The realization, the recognition of just what was flowing through their bond like liquid sunlight, staggered her.
Theodore’s glowing expression didn’t dim. It didn’t even flicker. His hands traced up the wet contours of her sides, over her ribs, and then around to her back to cradle her with infinite care as he replied, Yes. Does that scare you?
Did it? Maybe it should have. They barely knew each other. A day ago she was terrified he’d eat her for breakfast. But now he lived in her head, he held her life in his hands, and… he loved her. She could feel it running through their bond, making it stronger, tying them together in ways deeper than magic ever could.
Margot flattened her palms against his chest as another stab of guilt stole her breath. Does it bother you that I don’t love you?
Yet. You don’t love me yet.
You’re very sure of yourself. But he had every right to be, didn’t he? Theodore was the sovereign, he was gorgeous, and so far, he’d been right about everything. If his ego was a little inflated, Margot could hardly blame him. That didn’t mean she would let him know that, though.
His snort echoed against the marble. “With the way you’re looking at me? I give it a month, tops.”
Margot made to argue with him, for her pride’s sake, but didn’t even get so far as opening her mouth.
He was right.
Days. They’d known each other for days, and already they were bonded, she had almost completely let her guard down, and she was currently standing naked in a shower with him, debating about how quickly she’d fall in love with him. A week ago, this kind of casual intimacy would have seemed impossible.
Privately putting her pride aside, Margot could admit to herself that she’d be lucky if she lasted a month.
She swallowed hard. Her gaze slid away from his adoring expression to stare sightlessly at the wings of his delectable collarbones.
I have to tell him. I can’t fall in love with him and not tell him.
If he rejected her after she got in so deep she could no longer tell up from down, it would break her.
Panic burned away the soft glow of her realization. It was sharp, acrid, familiar in the most unpleasant ways. “Theodore,” she rasped, shoving the words out before they could be swallowed again, “I’m not what you think I am.”
* * *
Theodore blinked water out of his eyes. “What?” He frowned down at Margot, so small and beautiful tucked against him, and growled, “I thought we had this figured out. You are my consort. What—”
“It’s not that.” Her fingers, with their blunt little nails, scratched nervously at his chest. The touch sent ripples of pleasure down his spine, but not enough to distract him from her clear distress.
Theodore tightened his arms around her. Eyes narrowing, he asked slowly, “Are you finally going to tell me what has you so scared?”
Margot’s head dipped in a nod. Red hair, dark with water, slid against her cheek. Her voice was faint under the patter of droplets and hiss of steam. “Yes.”
“Now?”
