Heart of Stone (Rock Star Fairy Tales #1)

Chapter 41

C h apte r 41

Coffee and Oaths

“S o, do you have coffee in this magical palace?” Margot asked, sliding on her sneakers. She was dressed in the clean clothes Tobin had conjured for her—yoga pants and a tank top, though not actually hers—and her hoodie from the nigh t before.

Tobin finished pulling on his own boots, fully dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and shirt that he had conjured at the same time, and pursed his lips. “We do, but I know you need to get back. We can have coffee on your bus.”

“Really?” she asked, wanting to push him a little bit and test his boundaries. “You don’t want to show me your fancy kitchen?”

“Fae kitchens are ancient compared to modern human conveniences. Your coffee will be ready much sooner,” he explained dismissively, reaching for her hand to tug her close. Margot let herself be moved, enjoying the feel of his treacherous lips despite herself.

She glanced at the dresser and the unmade bed. “So,” she tried again, “you don’t get dressed out of your dresser, and you don’t make your bed.”

“You judging me, darling?” he asked, giving the bed a cursory glance. “I didn’t think you were a make-the- bed girl.”

“You’re just going to leave it like that?” she pushed. “Won’t som eone see?”

He shrugge d. “And?”

Margot recalled the smooth blanket when they arrived, the undisturbed room. “Tobin,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, “this isn’t y our room.”

His eyes widened, and he looked around, clearly waiting for the punchline. “It’s not?” he asked.

“This is the top room in what seems to be a palace,” she told him. “The furniture I can ignore but not the clothes.” She eyed his jeans and shirt, then pointed at the dresser. “You’re telling me that when you’re here, you wear the clothes in there?”

His eyes narrowed, something like excited pride and desire rushing through his face, and he brought her chin up with a finger. “You went through m y things?”

“No, I didn’t go through your things,” she said, “because this isn’t y our room.”

“So whose room is it, then?”

“It must be Lord Rebimart—”

“Rebinus.”

“Whatever. Why would you bring me here? Is this some kind of game—bedding me in your Lord’s sheets?” She grabbed at his hand, fear slicing through her. “Is this some kind of weird Claiming?”

“Margot, listen to me,” Tobin tried. “I meant what I said—if I could, I would Claim you this instant.”

“Why do you do that?” she whispered. “I believe you, but I don’t know why.” She gestured at the room again. “This is clearly a Lord’s room, Tobin. And last I checked, you’re not a Lord. I don’t care how close you two are—a vassal doesn’t get the penthouse.” She forged ahead, wanting it out in the open. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Tobin’s eyes widened, then he burst into laughter. “Oh, darling, you have no idea what you’re asking me r ight now.”

“Is that part of it—your Claiming? You said it was different because you were a child, but you’re a man now—”

“Margot,” Tobin soothed, putting both hands on her cheeks and staring into her eyes, “I am not fucking Lord Rebinus.” There was something else in the words he said, but his meaning was clear. His relationship with his Lord wasn’ t sexual.

“But why then?” she uttered, peering into his eyes, feeling their Connection, trying to find the truth of him at the end of the tether. “Why would you bring me to his room?”

“It has the biggest bed,” he said simply. “And the best shower, and I wanted you all t o myself.”

He leaned down to kiss her, and Margot felt something deep within answer his call. “How did you know he wouldn’t come home?” she mumbled, the question still unanswered, her own mouth eager aga inst his.

“Trust me,” he coaxed. “I knew we would be s afe here.”

“Safe from what?” Margot’s head spun. She did trust him—and she knew she was an idiot. Everything Tobin said was a shade of truth, not a lie, but not exactly what it seemed to mean. “ From you?”

“Exactly,” he told her and pushed her back onto the bed, landing atop her with her arms pinned above her head, his hard body pressing her to the mattress. “I want you, Margot,” he growled. “I need to have you.”

“You have me,” she told him, body surrendering to the pure lust betw een them.

“Not yet,” he insisted, his free hand working the waist of her pants and sliding them down. “Dammit, woman, you need to wear more dresses!” Margot giggled at the frustration in his voice, then he was ripping the pants, sending her shoes flying as he pressed his body into hers, demanding satisfaction. “So you went through my things?” he said, moving fast and hard. “You like seeing my dirty laundry?”

“They’re not your things,” Margot insisted, hooking her legs around his hips and meeting him thrust for thrust. “Tell me I ’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, kissing her hard enough to bruise her lips.

“I’m not,” she argued, trying to free her hands and failing. Instead, she hooked her leg and shoved with her body, rolling them to the side. “You’re hiding something from me.” They fought for dominance, teetering slowly one way and then the other, neither breaking pace. She kissed him again, harder, and he lost his focus, hands releasing hers. Margot moved immediately, pushing him flat and climbing atop him, leaning down to press her forearms across his wrists on either side of his head, trying to pin him down. “You’re lyi ng to me.”

Tobin’s eyes opened, suddenly wide and clear, and she saw the hurt in them, the fear that she would see whatever secrets he was hiding. His body relaxed, no longer pushing for dominance, and he let himself be held down. “I’m not lying to you , Margot.”

“But you’re not telling the truth, either,” she said, and he said nothing. Slowing, her ardor cooling, she reached a hand up and fisted a chunk of his hair. “I can accept a lot of things,” she told him. “I can accept your secrets. I cannot accept y our lies.”

“That seems a fair bargain.” His voice was quiet.

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“Promise y ou what?”

Margot didn’t reply, slowly moving her body again, trying to find that place where they could meet as equals. When he arched against her, clearly wanting more, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I need y our word.”

For a moment, she was sure he would pretend to misunderstand her, to twist her demand into something else, but then his hand was free, pressing hard against her chest. “I swear to serve only you, Lady Margot.”

She started to object, to say that she didn’t need his complete servitude, but it was too late. She felt the magic spill over them both, and she lost herself to t he power.

“What have you done?” she managed a few moments later, collapsed on his chest. “I felt it.”

“You wanted an oath, so I swore one,” Tobin sai d mildly.

“An oath?!” She recalled Ash’s explanation. “But—your Claiming? Y our Lord?”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Ash told you about oaths, did he?” He nodded. “I expected as much. I assure you, his situation is very different from my own. I can swear to you without compromising my Claiming. If oaths could overcome a Claiming, everyone would use them that way.”

“It only works the other way, then? Protecting the sworn until they are Claimed?”

Tobin shook his head, sitting up a little and moving her with him. “Oaths aren’t wonderful protection, either. Ash is only safe because the others fear our father.” Margot wanted to ask why they hadn’t feared his father enough to refrain from stealing Tobin, but she didn’t. Maybe Lord Novus had grown more powerful si nce then.

“So what does it mean for you? You swore to serve me just now, but what if serving me conflicts with something Lord Rebinuts—”

“Rebinus.”

“Yeah—What if he wants you to do something that hurts me? Which wil l you do?”

Tobin smiled, a look of pure delight crossing his face. “I truly cannot wait to find out,” he told her. “In serving you, I have a chance to test the oath’s power—the limits and possibilities.” He kissed her quickly. “T hank you.”

Margot shook her head. “You are … mind boggling.”

“You love it,” he assured her, then lifted her bodily off him and set her down on the bed. “Now, we have to go or you are going to be late.”

Margot looked down at her destroyed pants, collected her discarded sneaker, and waved it in one hand. “Hey,” she began, “about that cool conjuri ng thing?”