Sound of Madness A Dark Royal Romance - Maria Luis Page 0,101

close my eyes against the intensity of the want.

I need you.

“Rowena—” I start at the same time that she blurts, “Do you trust me?”

“What?”

She pushes the curtain down, just enough so that I can see her from the neck up. Steam has plastered her cotton shirt to her skin and turned her cheeks a rosy pink. Violet eyes blink up at me then narrow slightly like she’s gathering her nerve. “I want to know if you trust me.”

A little over twenty-four hours ago, I fell from a roof thanks to her men. Twenty hours ago, I buried myself inside her with no other motive than the purely selfish—I wanted to make her come just as much as I wanted to feel alive. Rowena Carrigan is an addiction that I never could have foreseen. I wanted her even when I hated her, and I chased her even when I should have kept my distance.

I should still keep my distance.

In the end, though, my need for her is merciless. And I want . . . for just a little while longer, I want to own all that softness.

“Answer me one thing.”

Her brows lift in question. “Another confession?”

“Yes.” Turning off the shower, I let the water drain at my feet. The blood is gone but not the shame. The latter slips over me like a second skin, cinching tight around my throat, my heart. “Do you fear me, Rowena?” I ask softly.

Violet eyes meet mine, steady, intensely focused.

The phantom shackles around my wrists tremble, desperate to unlock. And then they clatter to the tile at my feet when her reply comes barely above a whisper: “You make me feel too much, Damien. You make me feel like I’m dancing with madness. So, yes, I fear you—I fear you like I’ve never feared anything else in my life. But if you’re asking if you frighten me, then my answer is no. I’m not sure you could, honestly, even if you tried.”

A breath that I didn’t realize I was holding floods my lungs. I gasp it in, and then give in to temptation to touch a finger to her chin. God, she’s beautiful. “My answer is yes—I trust you.”

She clasps a hand over my wrist. “Then meet me in my room in ten minutes. And don’t be late.”

31

Rowena

Damien enters my bedroom on silent feet.

Even with my back to the door and the rush of water hitting the porcelain tub to muffle the sound of his footsteps, I know it’s him. The air changes with his presence. It thickens and electrifies, and any hope I had of faking casual indifference after my not-so-indifferent confession goes out the window when his velvet voice rasps my name.

Moving my hand on the standing tub, to better balance my weight on the stool, I turn and watch him approach.

He’s beautiful.

Brawny frame. Thick, corded muscles. Each step he takes is a lesson in sensuality. Lithe, powerful. He advances toward me like a predator, and I have the distinct impression that he’s chasing me all over again even though I’m stationary. His blue eyes home in on my face, never wavering. He offers no smile, no pleasantries. It’s him and me, and the escalating tension between us, and the carnal look on his face that reads, You’ll break for me, and enjoy every second of the wreckage.

Feeling off-kilter, I slide a trembling hand between my clamped knees and tilt my chin toward the tub. “You mentioned that you wanted to feel better, and I thought, maybe, I could—”

“When did your vision come back?”

As if to mock me, the floaters in my right eye land on his gorgeous face. I smother a howl of frustration. “Earlier, when I was reaching for a towel after my shower. I didn’t bother with turning on the lights but still saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. It was just like what Dr. Matthews said—one moment I saw nothing and then I did.”

“And you see . . . everything?”

“Everything that matters,” I tell him softly.

Blue eyes fall to the tub that’s steaming with hot water, and a muscle leaps in his jaw.

A seed of awkwardness blooms in my stomach.

In the span of nine days, I’ve been with this man in every way that matters—angry, naked, vulnerable—and I think . . . I think that if I’m being truly honest with myself, there’s been a sense of relief in not being able to physically see him. Oh, I heard the different nuances in his tone