It’s so obvious now. He didn’t look at me like he wanted me because my scarred Seelie never thought he could have me. Now the tortured look in his eyes tells me that he’s still convinced that he can’t.
The traitor. The human lover.
He wants a human to love?
I’m right here.
“Touch me,” I tell him. “It’s okay. Then we can share the cot and get some sleep.”
Rys’s expression is a pained one, but it doesn’t last. He regains control of himself in a heartbeat, his lips thinning as he confesses, “I shouldn’t.”
He probably shouldn’t. Considering what happened the first time he did, I’m pretty sure it’s only going to escalate if I give him permission again.
And, you know what?
I’m looking forward to it.
I move into him. I used the magic shower box earlier to freshen my clothes so I’m still wearing the same outfit I’ve had on for weeks now: black tank top, black jeans, my underwear, and my boots. I was relieved to see that my leather jacket is still in the cell, but I didn’t bother shrugging it on just yet.
His golden eyes flash as his gaze is drawn down to my chest, noticing the cleavage that I normally keep covered up.
Gotcha.
“What’s that matter, Rys? Don’t you want to touch me?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
I do. Heaven help me, but I do.
At the promise in his husky whisper, I can’t help but shiver.
He immediately becomes concerned. “Are you cold?”
Rubbing my hands up and down my bare arms, I nod. “I haven’t lost the chill from the oubliette.”
Rys’s guarded stare never leaves my face. If he wanted to, he could point out that my leather jacket is still crumpled up in the corner. Or maybe he could call me on my bullshit because, well, it’s been hours and I sure as hell used all the hot water in the shower box in an act of petty revenge.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, with an unreadable expression, he kicks the sheet on the floor to the side with the tip of his boot before gliding over to the cot. He sits down on the edge, widening his legs as he opens his arms.
I get it. He’s not going to touch me. If I want to get close to him, it’s going to be on my terms. It’s not enough that I’m willing to give him permission. He won’t take it—but he’ll give it away.
Rys is giving me permission.
He’s giving me the power—and the control.
Is that even possible for one of the fae? From all the other ones I’ve met, I never would’ve thought it was possible. Then again, Rys is like nothing I’ve ever seen before—or like no one I’ve ever met.
And I want him.
Before he can change his mind, I hike up my jeans and put one knee on the cot. I throw my other leg over his waist, straddling him like I did in the oubliette. Sure, the cot is narrow. If we laid side by side, it would be a tight fit. Then I think of how close we were in the oubliette.
Yeah. I can work with this.
I wrap my arms around his waist. “Much better.”
Rys lets me hold him, but he doesn’t reciprocate. He’s more like a statue, completely still and unmoving as I wiggle to get even closer to him. I hear a sharp intake of breath as my ass brushes aga