He smiled, ruthless. “Just like I know how she smells. How she tastes.”
The bindings of Tiernan’s control snapped.
The fucking fae had gone one step too far.
“She made her choice,” Tiernan growled, his blood raging. He swung with blinding fury, ready to cut Rowan down.
The Nightweaver’s laughter was mocking. “Who says I can’t change her mind?”
Tiernan roared. He slammed into Rowan with the magnitude of a thousand boulders tumbling down a cliffside, knocking him backward. Baring his teeth, Tiernan assailed upon him again. “If you dare lay a single finger on her, I’ll destroy you.”
“Interesting.” Rowan sneered, malice dripping from his tone. “That power belongs tomenow.”
A cacophony of noise rang in Tiernan’s ears, but all he could see was the bloody, pulpy mess he wanted to make of Rowan’s face.
Suddenly Lir was between them, throwing his arms out to either side. The force of his magic sent Tiernan staggering back while Rowan stumbled away from him.
“I saiddraw,” Lir bellowed. His glare cut from Tiernan to Rowan, then back again. “That’s enough.”
Tiernan sucked in a breath. His muscles screamed at him, ached from exertion. Sweat poured from every surface of his body. He glowered, pissed at Rowan for not knowing how to keep his fucking mouth shut, and furious at himself for losing his composure.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at Maeve, even though he knew she stood nearby. She’d likely watched their entire fight unfold.
Rowan scoffed, tossed his sword onto the sand, then sauntered off back toward the palace.
Merrick loosed a whistle, appearing by Tiernan’s side a moment later. He ducked his head, angling himself so his back faced Maeve, and kept his voice quiet. “What was all that about?”
Tiernan’s back spasmed as the muscles there tensed. “Take a guess.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
“You need to get your shit together, my lord. I know he gets under your skin, and for good reason, but whether you like it or not, we need him to win this war. Bury the past.” Merrick clamped one hand on Tiernan’s shoulder. “Mind yourself, my lord. Your mate is watching.”
Lanced with regret, Tiernan slowly allowed his gaze to travel over to Maeve.
She stood a few feet from him, her sword dangling loosely in her hand. Her skin was flushed, her curls were wild, and tiny beads of sweat slid from her forehead to her cheeks. But there was an emotion banked deep in her eyes. Something powerful, yet unreadable.
“Let’s go,” Lir announced, motioning to the palace. He nodded once, stiffly, and gradually everyone trudged back up the hill, their hushed conversations disappearing on the warm breeze.
Tiernan walked over to Maeve, rubbing the back of his neck as though he could somehow dissolve his shame, disgruntled by his own actions. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped her sword, cupping his face with both hands. Her eyes sought his own.
“You were right.” Rising on her toes, she kissed him softly on the mouth. “I choseyou.”
Then her nose crinkled. “You need a shower.”
He chuckled, smacking her on the butt. “I could say the same to you.”
She blinked, the mirth in her eyes warming into longing. “Meet you there?”
Tiernan moved closer, towering over her, enjoying the way her mouth parted in surprise. “I have a better idea.”
“Is that so?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We can go there now, if you’d like.”
“Yes, please.”
