“Okay.” He drawled the word as though he didn’t believe her and picked up her bag. He grunted when he did. “Heavier than it looks,” he muttered.
Dominique checked the lock on the back door one last time and followed Ronan out her front door with one last scratch on Oscar’s head. As she locked the deadbolt, he carried her bag downstairs.
When she emerged from the front door of the apartment building, she stopped short. She expected a sleek sports car or a boxy, expensive SUV. Instead, he drove a big, blacked out, crew cab pickup truck. The wheels were even black, and it was lifted high off the ground. So high that Dominique needed to use the step attached to the side, even though she was an inch over six feet tall in her heels.
Whenever she slid inside, though, she found the luxury she expected. The seats were leather and, according to the buttons on the center dash, could heat, cool, and massage the occupant. Like the outside, all the accessories within were blacked out, not an inch of shiny silver in sight.
Dominique settled into the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. “Nice truck,” she said.
“Thanks.”
Without another word, Ronan put the truck in reverse and took off. He drove with his left hand on the wheel and his right elbow resting on the armrest between them. The short sleeve T-shirt he wore left his arms bare and she could see the crescent moon on his wrist. He hadn’t covered it since that day in her office, but Dominique wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. Did he want to remind her of her mistake? Did he want people to think that he was proud they shared such a mark? Was thereanother more nefarious reason? The thoughts racing through her mind nearly made her dizzy.
His driving didn’t help matters. He drove fast. Too fast. Dominique tried to ignore the scenery flashing by at an alarming speed, but it was difficult. To distract herself, she asked, “What else should I know about your parents and your sister?”
Ronan had given her the basics about his family, but nothing more than facts like their ages, what types of magic they carried, and their general physical description.
“What do you mean?”
“Any traps or minefields I need to be aware of?”
He shot her a sideways glance. “Why didn’t you ask me before today?”
“Because you said your parents had spies everywhere, and I wasn’t sure if that applied to spying on your phone or not. That seems like something we would have discussed before now.”
He sighed heavily. “There’s not much to tell. You’ve met them before.”
“For all of five minutes, thirty years ago,” Dominique pointed out. “I need more information.”
“Like I said—not much to tell.”
Her irritation growing, Dominique said, “You’re forcing me into this farce of an engagement and eventually a sham of a marriage. The least you can do is tell me what I need to know in order not to humiliate myself around your family.”
Her voice was calm, but her words were sharp.
Ronan shot her a cold look, taking the next exit and turning off onto a deserted road. He parked on the shoulder before he turned to face her, his handsome face set into harsh lines. Shifting forward, he closed the distance between them, putting his face close to hers.
“I can’t stand my parents. I can’t wait until they step down. Not because I want the throne. I don’t give a damn about it. Butbecause they’re not good leaders. They don’t treat our people well. Hell, I don’t even think they care about our people. They’re selfish and cold. They find any amount of leverage or power they can, and they use without mercy until everyone bows down to them. The only person in the entire court who is worth a damn is my sister. She is the only one of us who is fit to rule and who would actually do a good job of it. And, crazy enough, she actually wants the job. Not for the power, but because the make life better for her people. Does that answer your questions or is there anything else you’d like to know?”
He hadn’t exactly answered her question, but Dominique sensed that he wasn’t going to and that she’d pushed him enough for today. “No, I’m good.”
Ronan cocked his head to the side, staring at her with intense blue eyes. “I’ve been wondering what’s beneath the surface with you, but I get it now. You’re always so calm, cool, and collected. The ice princess. It’s because there’s nothing there. Nothing deeper. You’re just a shell that walks around, breathing and talking.”
With that excruciatingly painful verbal blow, Ronan faced forward, put the truck in gear, and wheeled them around, practically throwing her against the passenger door. Dominique barely noticed. Every atom of her being was focused on not allowing herself to react. She stared hard out the window, refusing to let the tears welling in her eyes to fall. She would not give him the satisfaction of making her cry or telling him that he had no fucking clue what she’d endured in the years since they met as children.
Instead, she folded her hands in her lap and stayed silent for the rest of long ride.
The entrance to Magic was an hour and half outside Dallas and nestled in the countryside. The gated entrance led directly into Faerie, the region of Magic where the fae resided.Specifically, this gate would take them to the Southern Isle, Ronan’s kingdom. To her surprise, there was a keypad in front of the ornate wrought iron gate.
Ronan punched in a code and the gate split, slowly opening. They drove through and down a long drive, stretching at least half a mile, winding over a small hill. When they arrived on the other side, there was another gate, this one made of stone and more wrought iron.
This time, there were guards, at least six that Dominique could see. She had no doubt that there were more hidden among the trees and just on the other side of the portal.
One of the men approached, his broad shoulders square and straight. His face was all sharp angles and edges, and, when he spoke, it revealed the flash of fangs. Whatever he was, he wasn’t full fae, and it surprised her. When she’d lived in Magic, the guards were all pure bloods. Had things changed that much in the last twenty years?
“Your Highness,” the man greeted.
“Voltan.”
