“Done,” Lord Otto hissed. “No more sex-crazed Original.”
“Yes, he’s no longer lusting after me, but he’s going to be pissed,” I whispered.
Master Niallan took a step toward his friends, who had stopped trying to enter.
He crashed into the invisible barrier.
My eyes widened. “You didn’t take the entire spell off?”
Lord Pippin grinned, utterly pleased with the situation. “Of course not. We can’t have him running off, now can we?”
“Yes!” I shrieked, turning in their direction. I pointed a finger at the man below. “Let him loose! You can’t possibly think he would be a good King Novitiate.”
“Actually…,” Lord Belshazzar purred, “…he would be perfect for our needs.”
“Fuck. That.” I placed my hands on my hips. “That druid would be the death of us.”
Adelie elbowed me in the side, but I ignored her.
I wasn’t done yet.
I growled, “I don’t want him as my king. Remember? I get the final say.”
“Technically, you don’t,” Lord Xenon answered evenly. “In the case that there’s only one possible candidate for king, the decision goes to the overlords.”
My fangs descended. “Try the fucking spell again. Let’s see who else we can get.”
More elbow prodding, more ignoring.
Cato’s lips trembled, and he shook his head. “You don’t understand. He is the only man who could possibly be a match for you, my sugar plum.”
I really wanted to punch the bastard. “Quit with the damn name—”
“Gwen!” Adelie shook my shoulders, yanking me around to face her. “You should shut up now.”
My eyes widened in confusion. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Her voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her. “Because the Original is staring right at you. I think he can hear us.”
My eyes snaked in his direction, and I practically swallowed my tongue.
The druid was just as beautiful as I remembered.
And just as arrogant.
He lifted one blond brow, his head cocked slightly. The druid leaned back against the black rock wall next to the entry, his friends still outside glaring in. The man’s startling green eyes ran over me from head to toe in slow motion, his forehead wrinkling ever so slightly. He dipped his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose, apparently deep in thought since vampires and druids didn’t get headaches.
Oh, my fuck.
Please don’t remember me.
Please don’t remember me.
I had only known him for one day.
And I wasn’t that little lovesick child anymore—barely seventeen years old then. I hadn’t known any better and had thrown myself at him when he’d visited my grandfather’s house. I had thought he was the best-looking man in the entire world. Kind and sweet to my grandfather too.
But he had turned me away from his bedroom on my grandfather’s estate.
