“You’re slow,” Aerin comments.
“Not all of us are masochists,” Malice snaps back. Her eyes light up in delight, and Malice immediately regrets his choice of words.
“Don’t tease me now, Dragon,” Aerin coos, batting her lashes at him in an obvious ploy.
Grinding his teeth, Malice keeps himself perfectly still as Aerin’s manicured red nails trail over his sweaty chest. At his silence Aerin snickers, gripping his shirt in her fist she gives it a tug as she turns. She releases him once he’s in motion, forcing him to fall into step with her.
“Don’t worry, Malice, I’ll let you keep your virtue intact, for now.”
If only Aerin Tolvare knew just how much Malice wanted to throw her over his shoulder, fly her back to her apartment, and make her scream under his touch.
But it would be a supremely bad idea for him to get involved with Aerin Tolvare.
Selfish. Vapid. Reckless. He repeats his mantra. She is not someone he can allow himself to desire.
14
AERIN
Aerin leads Malice to a small bakery near the beach where she orders double her regular and sits down at a table on the patio. She gestures for Malice to join her. He does a thorough sweep of the area and turns his chair to face backwards to accommodate his wings before sitting down.
Folding his arms over the top of the iron chair he narrows his blue eyes at her.
“Is this you conceding?”
Aerin considers the question.
She’s still livid. At her father for taking even more freedom from her. At her brother for his betrayal. At her blood for making her a Tolvare at all.
And she’s furious with Malice, too. Not for his actions, but for what he represents: the lock on her gilded cage. The loss of even the illusion of freedom. But as much as these two weeks have been a punishment for Malice, they’ve also been a test.
Malice is damn-good at tracking Aerin down. And if Aerin can’t escape him, well, she’ll have to ensure his loyalties lie with her.
“I never concede,” Aerin informs him, leaning back in her chair. “And I still don’t trust you.”
The Fae server places various plates and two coffees down between them. Malice raises his eyebrows but says nothing as he unwraps his fork. Aerin digs in immediately. The food here is always delicious, and Aerin moans around her first bite.
Malice’s knuckles go white around his fork, nostrils flaring.
Aerin smirks, spinning her fork. His desire for her is so obvious, even when he does everything he can to hide it from her.
She continues to shovel in food, allowing them to eat in silence. When most of her meal is gone, the Dragon-Fae finally speaks again.
“I didn’t choose to be here,” Malice grumbles, like Aerin drug it out of him with her silence.
“So then go,” Aerin says through a mouthful of food. Malice grimaces at her manners, eyeing her full fork dubiously.
“I can’t,” he sighs, placing his fork down and pushing the plate away from him. “And that wouldn’t solve your problem anyways.”
“Since when do you care about my problems?” Aerin asks, scooping a bite of food from his plate now that hers has been emptied.
“I don’t,” Malice snaps, voice hard.
“But?”
“No ‘but’. I’m stuck in this just as much as you are.”
Aerin scoffs, dropping her fork with a clatter. “You don’t know anything about me,” she accuses.
