Looking up, Aerin searches his face. Like before, Aerin is taken by how handsome he is. It’s a rugged type of handsome, dark and foreboding.
Aerin looks away, forces her eyes to avert to his wing behind him, still spread. His wings hover around them, creating their own personal cocoon. Aerin inhales deeply, even though it means breathing in the smokey scent of the Dragon-Fae.
“Did you do this?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking to the demolished bathroom around them.
She raises her eyes to his again. “I think you know the answer to that question, Dragon.”
It hits her then, like a ton of bricks.
She demolished the bathroom.Shedemolished the bathroom. The amount of magic that would have taken… Aerin looks inward, at the frozen lake. Though still icy, it has cracks on the surface, portions where the ice is broken through, as if someone took a battering ram to it.
How?How has she done that? And why in the last eight years is this the first time it’s happened? Unless… Aerin looks at the Dragon-Fae in front of her, recalling the specific clauses of the blood contract.
It clearly states Aerin would not be assigned a personal guard if she submitted to all the other types of surveillance Father wanted. Her father must have assumed that by using Bruin to assign the guard, he’d circumvented the contractual stipulations. But what if he hadn’t?
Is the contract dissolving? Is she finally going to be free?
“Malice.”
The word snaps Aerin out of her thoughts. She blinks, furrows her brow.
“My name is Malice,” the Dragon-Fae clarifies.
“Malice,” Aerin repeats, only slightly dumbfounded.
How fitting.
Aerin swears she can feel his body shutter when she repeats his name, making her realize how close they still are. She becomes hyperaware of every point at which their bodies touch.
His hands are massive, wrapping all the way around her wrists and holding tight enough to be felt but not to hurt. His chest where her forearms are pressed is broad and firm, thickwith a truly ridiculous amount of muscle. His wings continue to wrap around them both, shielding them from the outside world.
Aerin looks up again, and despite her height, he lingers over her. His face is stern, rapt with precise control.
“Well, Malice.” Aerin breaks the moment. “Do you think you can dry me?”
Malice releases her immediately and Aerin takes a step backwards. If he’s surprised she knows details about his magic, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his magic swirls as carefully controlled heat, pulling water from her dress with precision and evaporating it away into the air.
Once they are both dry, Malice’s wings twitch inward, ready to pull back to their normal position, but a flick of Aerin’s palm halts him. Aerin lets her forehead fall to his chest, taking two deep breaths of smoke-scented air before she straightens again.
Control. She needs control. If she’s going to play this right, she has tothink.
When Aerin raises her head again, her mask is back in place. Impassive Princess. Hardened Fae. Selfish bitch.
She takes a step back and Malice drops his wings, pulling them tight to his back. Aerin strides out of the bathroom. Malice follows, and for the first time, instead of feeling trailed, Aerin feels protected. Like someone has her back.
She shakes away the feeling. She can’t trust him.
When Aerin meets Bruin in the hallway, straightening the lapels of his jacket, he’s perfectly dry. Her voice rings cool and deadly as she speaks. “I don’t care whose idea it was. I don’t care that you think I need it. You betrayed me, Bruin. I will never forgive you for that.”
Bruin’s anger has washed down the drain with their fight. Anguish flashes over his features. Guilt. Worry. Sometimes Bruin is too easy to read.
“Aerin, please—” Aerin doesn’t want to hear his pleas. She doesn’t spare him another glance.
10
AERIN
Aerin gazes with vacant eyes as the cameras flash, photographing the Royal family for tomorrow’s papers.
