The last time I stood outside his room, screams of false pleasure rattled the door. It’s quiet now. I hate it. I quickly bathed in the magical bath waters. I’m now spotless. I’m dressed nicely.
But I don’t have a real plan ready. I don’t know how I can do it.
I won’t fuck him. I just won’t. But if that’s the only way to distract him enough to kill him…
My hair wafts against my back from how hard I shake my head at myself. Nope. Can’t do it. Killing him is one thing, sex, that’s just asking for too much. Even as a last request.
A deep inhale fills my lungs as I lift my hand to the cold door handle. My eyes close, and I count to three.
One.
Two.
A shiver of crawling fingers grips my shoulder like knives cutting into flesh.
“What are you doing?” Familiar black eyes are wide and devouring as the Night Witch assesses me from head to toe. “And why do you reek of pigs and farm animals?”
Wow. Thanks, Zilo.
“Never mind.” Her long glossy black hair skims along her inky lips as she speaks to me in a rush as she always seems to do. “Do not kill him.” My mouth opens to interrupt her, but she quickly carries on, peering over her shoulder this way and that as she speaks. “You don’t want it done in private. You don’t want your friends to take any blame or punishment, correct?” A thin eyebrow lifts expectantly, but as always, she knows the answer to her very own question.
“No.”
I try to follow her line of thinking, but this is literally what we’ve wanted from the start.
“Roman will be the suspect. They will pin it on him in any way they can. The demons of this realm idolize Ravar as one of their own. The hell fae, not so much. And the hellhounds and shifters, they despise him for what he does to his very own High Hell. So do not let there be any backlash toward Roman or your friends. We’ve worked too hard for this to be a deed done in private.” The darkness in her eyes flashes, and my mind reels to find an alternate path that doesn’t harm the High Hell or myself.
“The men are planning poison for you to deliver tonight during a special announcement.” Once more, I want to ask the details of this special announcement, but she doesn’t leave time for minor things like plans or particulars. “But as I said, they’ll put themselves in harm’s way by doing it in such a mysterious way. Trust me. Everything will be ready tonight. Just…don’t get stabby in the meantime.”
“What exactly—”
“No. Trust me. Tonight.” She nods until I too nod back at her. “No stabby,” she echoes with seriousness.
“Okay. No stabby,” I repeat, shaking my head at how foolish this conversation suddenly feels. But a half plan is better than no plan. And that’s all my men keep leaving me with.
I blink hard, and no matter how long I hesitate, my pounding heart never calms. Finally, I accept it for what it is. This is a real goal and an almost plan.Tonight. I’ll be ready.
When I look up to tell her just that, no one’s there. Dense darkness and eerie silence are all that she leaves me with in the empty hall.
The cry of a slow pulling hinge tears me away from searching the vacancy, and when I turn toward the sound of it, the Prince is already striding out to me. His palms push down my sides like I’m his favorite blanket he’s ready to wrap himself up in. His head dips low, and he nuzzles my neck with his lips already parted and his tongue ready to strike. But at the very last second, he pulls ever so slowly away, his lips curling back strangely with a questioning confusion lining his face.
Shit! I still smell like shit!
Thank the Goddess I fucking smell like flaming pig shit!
“You, um, you look delicious this morning,” he says stiffly but politely as he detangles himself from my apparent repulsive embrace.
Just to really solidify my disgusting unfuckable status a little more, I fluff my hair with a dramatic toss of my hand. “Thank you, my Prince.”
He audibly gags.
Zilo, I fucking love you. I take back every cruel thing I’ve ever thought about you.
Well, most of it.
I lift my hand to his sharp jawline, and my index finger barely makes sexy contact before he dips and dives away from my touch.
“I—” His throat clears harshly, almost like he’s fighting the urge to breathe regularly. “I have a gift for you, my lovely.”
