My lips curved. “I’ve heard worse.”
Eoghan growled, but I ignored him—he kept doing that. A part of me wondered if I’d married myself to a wolf, but that was ridiculous.
He was just a grouch.
But I could deal with grouchiness, could even deal with a man who was more likely to scowl at me than smile, just so long as he didn’t hurt me.
And there were so many ways to hurt me that he probably didn’t even know.
I gnawed on my bottom lip at the thought and turned to look at my new husband, who was still slouched on the throne we had at the top table like he truly was a king, and I was his queen.
But I wasn’t royalty.
How could I be?
“What is it?”
His focus swerved onto me with the precision of a laser, making me gulp, even as I appreciated the way his gaze softened the second he’d traced over my expression.
I would never mistake him for a kind man, but at least he wasn’t being mean to me.
“You look bored.”
He blinked. “You only prevaricate about family. Have you noticed that?”
There was a lot to prevaricate about where they were concerned.
I blinked back at him. “I prefer to be honest.”
He slipped forward, resting his elbow on the armrest. “Interesting, considering if there’s a point in our lives where I won’t trust you, it’s with them and where they’re concerned.”
I slipped closer, not stopping until our noses were barely an inch or two away from one another. “You can decide whether or not to trust me, I can’t control what you think or feel.”
“Just like I can’t control what you think or feel.” He hummed. “Little bird, are you going to fly back to your nest with little twitters?” he mused, reaching up to cup my cheek.
The second his fingers brushed the skin there, little shivers danced down my spine.
“What kind of twitters?”
“You know what kind.” He narrowed his eyes, and his hand moved to cup my throat. He didn’t put any pressure on it, didn’t even tighten his hold, but the weight there was…interesting.
Instead of making me feel like I was choking, and I knew what that felt like, he made me feel…
Bound.
The sensation was unusual, and I let him take the weight of my head off my neck by tipping it to the side.
I knew I’d shocked him, even if he covered his surprise with a quick flare of his eyes.
“You have to know what Father wants from this match.”
“What he wants, he isn’t necessarily going to get,” he rasped, and his words had my brain whirling.
“Is that why you’ve been quiet?”
He snorted. “Plotting your family’s demise? No. Even if your fucker of a father deserves it.” His lips thinned. “I’m quiet because I hate crowds.”
The admission surprised me. Not just because he was admitting to a weakness, but because crowds were a part of our lives. “We’re raised with them.”