She swallowed the egg-sized lump in her throat as heat pulsed through her at his fury. His power. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, his jacket having been taken off somewhere along the way, exposing his forearms. Muscled, veined, and coiled with strength, like his whole body. His eyes delved deeply into hers, searching.
She didn’t speak. Found that she couldn’t. Then again, she didn’t need to voice her thoughts. Not with him.
The rage clouding his features slowly faded. Understanding lit his eyes, but he paused, tensed as he continued to look at her. His head tilted, and for a moment he looked utterly lost.
He blinked and glanced back at Rutherford while a crease formed between his brows. Rutherford’s robe lay open, and that was the second time she reeled from the sight.
“I apologize,” the fae mumbled, waving his hand. Blue fabric fluttered as it winked into existence, covering the man fully. His breath stuttered, as though he had caught himself. “For interrupting, I mean.”
His chest rose with a deep breath, and her gaze snagged on the defined pecs outlined in his stylish shirt. In a moment, his muscles loosened. His mood shifted back to the relaxed and arrogant guy she’d spoken with downstairs, or on that ledge. She’d glimpsed the other part of him, though. The wild and vicious part, ruthless and feral, hiding under this regal and posh exterior.
“I couldn’t have him putting through a certain business transaction, you understand.” He faced her fully again, but though his voice was back to being cocky and teasing, his eyes seemed troubled. Unsettled. “You didn’t think I was trying to be chivalrous, did you?”
She cleared her throat and wondered if the look in her eyes matched his. If her uncertainty about the strange allure of him, the worrying magnetic pull, showed on her face. In her gaze. Her voice was just as unaffected, however. She at least had control over that portion of herself.
“Kinda, yeah. Chivalry makes men sexier. You can open locks, huh?”
She could feel the texture of his gaze as it roamed her face. “I don’t need any help with sexiness, as you well know. I look very good naked, by the way. I know you’ve thought about it. I’ll show you sometime. But about these weapons you seek… Why, in the favor of the gods, would you subject yourself tothisto get subpar weapons? I can provide you with whatever you need.”
“First, you didn’t give me your phone number.” She paused. “Do fae even have phones?”
“Of course. They just work a little differently. And look a little different. Okay, they aren’t phones. They are mental receptors, but they achieve the same result.”
“Well, I don’t have one. Second, why would I trust you to provide me with weapons? You can clearly read why I want them.”
He clicked his tongue. “You wouldn’t kill me. You lack the conviction.” He stepped closer so that the tip of her blade pushed against his stomach. “You’re too mesmerized by this curious feeling.”
She stared into his unsettling green eyes, the color so devastatingly vibrant. The buzz between them filled her with pleasure. With longing to feelmore. Deeper. It sucked her in and threatened to drag her under.
“What is this feeling?” she murmured. “Is it magic?”
His voice was just as subdued, his gaze still troubled. “I don’t know. I am not causing it, whatever it is. I don’t have the power to control someone in this way. Not as I am. Not like this.”
“Not as you are?”
He ignored the question, leaning in a little more. The point of the knife stayed pressed against him, but she let his body push the weapon back, allowing him closer. “Does the blood gift of your gods allow you to control those you covet? Is thisyourmagic, little dove?”
She’d spent the past five or so years learning everytype of magic in this realm. She’d committed to memory all the facets of each, how they changed based on power level, and the best ways to combat them. She’d had to. It was the only way she could exist in this world, especially in her chosen line of work. She’d met people who could alter emotions, including class fives, the strongest of the power levels, besides Demigods. They’d never felt like this. Their effects weren’t so complex, so consuming. So devastating.
“No,” she said, not bothering to elaborate. He would’ve heard all that. At least his abilities saved time. “And let’s get one thing clear: I do not, even remotely, covet you. I’d happily do away with this feeling. Any ideas on how I might do that?”
His lips curled wickedly, but she didn’t mistake the disquieted frustration in his eyes. “Maybe it is chemistry, then. Who would have thought that was possible between a fae and a human, hmm? If anyone found out, I’d be laughed out of the court. How embarrassing.” He studied her for a long moment. “To get rid of it, it seems I’ll have to kill you.”
She huffed out a laugh, ignoring the delicious buzz. The delirious hum inside her. It was a race to the death, then, was it? Because she had a score to settle. There was that little issue of revenge from all those years ago, and then his trying to help his kind flock over the Faegate, and now this huge inconvenience? Oh yeah, there was a score to settle, and she’d be the one filling out the toe tag. She hadn’t gotten this far,and survived this long, to let some arrogant fae with an Adonis complex decide her fate. She had plenty of conviction, and when she got those weapons, she’d prove it.
A smile soaked up his features.
“Well then,” he said softly, “I guess we know where we stand. Magic, a horrible joke by the gods, chemistry and attraction—it doesn’t really matter what is causing this feeling. In the end, one of us will kill the other. What is that human saying? ‘All is fair in love and war’?”
He leaned ever nearer, and that damn hum turned into a full-body vibration. She tried to hold on to her logic before it swept her away, but his eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a tortured groan that she felt across every inch of her flesh.
“It is truly a pleasure, though, isn’t it? While we are sharing our truths…” His voice was low and rich. His eyes drifted open, finding hers, burning. “I enjoyed watching you earlier. Gliding through the room, playing those people like a perfectly tuned musical instrument. You made that man move with nothing more than a look. Masterful. You’re a natural. You’d do well in court, playing the gentry like puppets. You’d like it, too, wouldn’t you? You’d like making them dance to your tune before you stabbed them in the back and let them bleed out in front of all their peers.” He leisurely reached up, sliding his hand against the side of her neck. Electricity sparked within the touch, sizzling across her. He hooked his thumb under her jaw and gently lifted, angling her face away. “I’d watch you from my throne, my crown crooked in mockery of the position.”
It was hard to breathe through her tight chest. Hard to keep her eyes open. “Your throne?” she asked in little more than a whisper.
He matched her volume. “The Obsidian Throne in the dark fae kingdom. Do you know it? Currently ruled by the wicked king and his miserly queen. Set to be inherited by his rotten, strategizing children, the scourge of the realm. Ignored by the Celestials because of a trade that should’ve never taken place and is now left to run amok. They have ruined that kingdom, and the imbalance is spreading. It is time someone stronger rips the royalty from their perch.”
“And yet…you’re attempting to amass power to cross the Faegate?”
