7

That Is Not a Cushion

Aforeign warmth caresses the side of my cheek as I adjust. The burning of oak wood dances along my nostrils as soft lips trail along my forehead, drawing a small smirk from me.

Hopeful this is reality, I keep my eyes closed and allow myself this peace.

When leaning to the side, a warm, solid cushion provides me with the best of comforts. I wiggle closer to it, burrowing deeper into the scent of an addictive cologne.

"Mmmm, I will be thinking about this all night," I mutter into the supportive cushion.

But a low chuckle comes from it—

I jolt my eyes open.

"There you are," the scarred man says, a small glimpse of relief behind his gaze.

I am draped across his lap, his arms cradling me close. My hands rest near my torso, intertwined with his black leather vest.

Humiliation swims through my thoughts as I take in our compromising position on the couch in the ballroom's back room.

I try to move from him, only to have him pull me closer when a searing pain pierces through my stomach.

His eyes are lined with concern. "Are you hurt?"

Worry clouds over that my personal health is further damaging my reputation. "How did we get here? What happened in the ballroom? Did anyone see?"

"Why don't you answer my questions first? Are you hurt?"

I stare into his blue eyes, my breath rattling against my chest, not only at our proximity but in relief this happened with him rather than anyone else. Still, I'm sheepish in divulging my health.

"It's honestly embarrassing to tell you."

"It can't be as bad as what I am imagining."

I chuckle, knowing my cycle is the last thing he would consider. "What are you imagining?"

His arms tense around me briefly, and I swear I hear a low rumble come from him. The dip of his voice is so low it tempts me closer.

"I thought someone was hurting you, as well as other things."

I have no idea what he means. All I do know is I find safety in his strong hold.

I take a bite of his sweet lure, grabbing his leather vest and tugging him close. Watching his lips, I lick mine at the thought of what he would taste like.

I reassure him with a small admission. "I am alright. And that is the second time you've saved me."

But I remember where we are, hidden away from prying eyes. Concern over if anyone saw has me stifling my pain, needing to do damage control if there has been any.

I ask, "What happened in the ballroom? Did anyone see?"

He touches the side of my face, drawing my breath taut. This man stares intently in my eyes, full of seriousness and concern.

"You don't have to hide your pain from me. Tell me."

Sensing I am not going to get answers by deflecting and making up excuses, I opt for the boldness he had last night. I surrender to laying the truth bare to him.

"It's my cycle." The scarred man's face relaxes slightly, and I continue, "When it mixes in with a lot of stress, it can be—debilitating."

I am about to tell him more if only to better explain, but I stop short when a laugh escapes him.

"I never would have thought bleeding would be debilitating," he jests.

I know a joke when I see one, but for the life of me, I don't laugh. Rather, I'm pissed.

Another man who does not understand the vicious cycles women face and glosses over that pain with humor.

At least I have a better reason for hiding my pain from people. I have a duty and an appearance to maintain.

Asshole.

The spell of lust breaks, and I release his vest, shoving myself away.

Shame and anger thrum against my blood as I seek to escape from him and this dreaded room. But my muscles pinch in my abdomen, sending me falling forward.

And again, the scarred man catches me.

So. Fucking. Infuriating.

I'm braced against his hard chest, a repeat from last night.

He applies pressure exactly where my cramps coil, and it is enough to bring relief rather than hurt. When he leans in, my breath hitches.

His aroma drowns me as his lips tickle my ear. "Forgive me. I should not have jested."

I shudder as his words sweep down my neck, goose bumps spiking across my flesh. I inch toward him for a moment, something hard pressing against my back end, and I really want to dwell on it.

A low groan from him coaxes me back into a tangled web of intrigue.

"I-I should go," I say, needing to get back to the party and fighting my body's desire to remain next to him. "I need to ensure I didn't cause anyone alarm and find my lady-in-waiting for medicine."

"Rest, My Queen. I was able to sneak back here without drawing much attention. Let me go fetch your lady-in-waiting for you."

"How did you—"

"Rest," the scarred man repeats.

He peels his body from mine, the fight leaving me as he reclines me against the chaise.

I study his black hair falling in front of his face as he fans my dress out, ensuring it is in place and not exposing anything. His touch is tender, and I find my irritability diminishing as he pulls away with a warm smile and his dimple on full display.

My lips tick up as I cradle my stomach. "Thank you."

He halts. "Rick."

I grin at the small piece of information. "Thank you for saving me from humiliation, Rick."

He winks. "Pay me back when I return, My Queen."

My heart flutters, and my cheeks heat as Rick vanishes back into the party.

I do not have very much to offer him. Except… Maybe I could approach the idea of marriage with him. He is the only one who is bearable to be around. My options are already limited, and I would really like to avoid choosing Ulrik.

Surely, Rick seeking me out both nights is why he's here. He must be one of the suitors we invited.

But Niko warned me against dancing with Rick.

I thought Niko warned me against it because I was drawn to another person, and like an idiot, I exploited that, thinking he was jealous. Then he laughed in my face but also took care of me while I was clutching my chamber pot this morning.

Niko pointed out my grief, and Rick made fun of my cycle.

But Niko stayed with me through a nightmare.

Would Rick ever do that if I chose him?

I barely know him, yes, but unions have happened between two people with less information. Rocking my head up to the ceiling in frustration, I hate how both men, despite being crass, have caused such a reaction from me.

Is this what relationships are always meant to be like?

I scoff in annoyance and massage my throbbing head.

The door flies open, and my hands shoot to my side as Niko's booming voice enters the room. "Tove! Are you—"

He notices my position on the couch and lifts a brow.

"What do you want?" I lace the question with venom.

It does not help that his stupidly handsome face still drives my heart into wanting him, regardless of his hurtful words from earlier.

He clenches his fists as he steps forward. "I-I came to check on you after I thought you had been back here too long with that man."

"What?"

How did I get back here? I don't remember anything beyond dancing.

Niko glances around. "Oh, he must have left."

When our gazes meet again, his words from earlier repeat in my mind and fracture my heart.

He sees the hurt.

"I-I need to apologize, Tee," he states. "For what I said earlier."

Brushing down my gown, I cross my arms and wait.

Niko relaxes before running his hands through his hair and exhaling. He comes to sit next to me, and I try to keep the hurt from my expression.

But when he reaches for my hand, selfishly, I let him take it.

I hate feeling beside myself with the hope that he truly is sorry.

He pulls my hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. "I can't stop thinking about what you said earlier."

It is my turn to look away. I know I said a lot of things earlier. Some were harsh, and some gutted me.

He needs to be more specific for this to be a two-way conversation.

His thumb rubs the upper side of my palm. "Tove—" He pauses, drawing my attention back and taking a long breath. "You said you wanted it to be me? What did you mean by that?"

Panic grips my heart at his question. I can't go admitting my feelings for him now.

Damn my stupid emotions for letting my mouth run rampant.

I build a wall over my heart, trying to conceal everything as I navigate myself around the real issue of him throwing my grief in my face.

"I said a lot of things because I was upset, Niko. I am sure you can understand why," I tell him in a clipped manner, trying to not explode on him.

Niko turns sullen, but his words revolve in circles in my mind, wanting me to keep him at a distance.

And yet my heart is pleading to stay and hear him out.

His hand twitches, and our proximity weighs in. "I know, Tee, and I am so sorry I said that. I meant to tell you—"

"Tell me what?" Anxiety and anticipation lace every word as my insides clench.

Is he going to tell me his reasoning in saying what he said?

Is he going to warn me away from Rick again?

"You don't know?" he asks.

The softness of his voice only creates more of a puzzle.

Niko glances toward the fire, subconsciously rubbing my hand still resting on his heart.

Desperately, I want to shift closer and take his face in my hands and kiss him senseless. I would gladly push past his callousness just to have my husband be him and only him. I need him.

My pulse quickens when he rests his head against mine, and Sweet Makers, I want this.

I want him.

His sandalwood scent soothes my anger while fueling my desire.

I bite my lip, falling deeper into the essence of him as he kisses my forehead.

"Please forgive me," he pleads.

My eyes close at the contact, hating how much I want him to kiss my lips. I am too much of a coward to put my heart at risk again without understanding his intentions.

"I can't bear it when we are at odds with one another." He pecks my right cheek.

Heat blooms underneath my pores, as if fire has jumped from the hearth and is now burning through my skin. I swear to Yeva I want this to be real and not a game of flirtation.

He kisses the other cheek. "I can't bear to lose you."

He inches closer, eyes closing. Niko's nose brushes mine so delicately, and the slightest sensation of his lips hovering over mine sends me into a frenzy.

My lips eagerly seek to touch his—

"Am I interrupting?" a low voice asks.

I propel my entire body in the opposite direction of Niko as my eyes widen, stunned to see Rick leaning against the doorway.

His arms are crossed, with a small bag perched outside the crook of his elbow, music entering the silent back room as my own shame takes over.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Tove. Deities, take me now.

Niko coughs as mortification reminds me I should not remain frozen this long.

I wrap my arms around myself, ignoring the blush running across my cheeks as Rick closes the gap between the three of us.

Both sets of eyes plaster themselves to the back of my head.

I hug my stomach in protest, forcing myself to look into the fire and pray to the Makers this nightmare will end soon.

My efforts in getting to know Rick more and learn of his intentions for being here are wrecked. Not to mention he might spread the wrong word and sully my reputation.

Fucking Deities.

The silence is deafening as Rick approaches the couch. "Your lady-in-waiting was preoccupied, and I offered to bring you the medicine myself."

He drops the medicine pouch on the table.

I cringe at the loud clang it makes, forcing an echo throughout the room. I avoid his stare, so torn over my disgrace that I don't even say thank you.

Rick takes the silence as a dismissal.

Footsteps recede behind me, and each footfall forces the wedge to grow deeper.

I almost thought I could marry someone other than Niko.

I've failed…

Everything I set out to do this week is ruined.

"Oh, and, My Queen?" Rick asks as the door creaks.

I meet his gaze, knowing it will be the last time I would ever set my eyes on someone so handsome.

Rick smirks. "I'll be sure to fetch your advisor instead of medicine the next time your aches return."