“Why aren’t you with Lavana? Weren’t you her Prince?”
His expression hardened and smoothed. His eyes went still like the water at the bottom of a deep well. “I am no Pixie Prince,” he said.
Before she could ask what he meant, his hand shot between them. He grabbed her wrist and flipped her over. Mud oozed under her, soaking into her clothes as his weight pressed onto her. He seized her other wrist and pinned both of her hands above her head. Had she been in better shape, she would’ve been able to stop him. But as his tongue ran up her neck, his hand cupping her breast, his thumb grazing the pliant tip, hardening it, she forgot about fighting, about the mud, and just about everything else.
“I will take Lavana if I must,” he said, “but I like you better.”
She snapped out of the fevered fog he’d cast over her. “You have no idea how to talk to women, do you?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “They usually just give me what I want without forcing me to listen to their insipid thoughts.”
“God, you’re an asshole.”
“No, I’m an Elf.”
She shoved him away. Or more precisely, he allowed her to shove him away. Scrambling to her feet, she looked him over again as he rose, languidly, to face her.
Sputtering, she said, “That’s not—you can’t be—”
“Have you ever met an Elf?” he asked. “Or even seen one?”
Wiping the lingering tingle of his tongue from her neck, she said, “No. Of course not.”
He held open his hands. “Well then . . .”
“But you’re a Prince,” she said. “You are, I know—”
“I am,” he agreed. “Crowned Prince Endreas, heir to the Throne.” He bowed with a flourish.
“But . . .”
He felt like a Pixie Prince to her, to that primal being inside of her. How could he be an Elf?
She took a step back. Her skin itched as the mud began to dry, the rain having stopped at some point. “You shouldn’t be here. I should kill you for being here.”
His eyes widened, flashing. “You’re right. You should. Go ahead. Kill me.”
“Don’t do that,” she said with a sneer. “I’m serious. You can’t... what are you doing here? What do you want?”
“I told you,” he said. “I want you.”
She unleashed her knives, all ten. “Do you want me now?”
A smile curled his lips... those lips. “Even more.”
“What are you doing here, Elf?”
“I’ve come to find my queen,” he said. “And I’m very much hoping it will be you.” He glanced down at his shoulder, where she’d stabbed him. Blood soaked through his freshly cleaned shirt, down his sleeve. “I like the way you play.”
“I’m not playing,” she said.
“Yes, you are,” he said.
“And were you playing when you almost killed me?”
He folded his arms. “You should’ve told me where the Enneahedron was, and then I wouldn’t have had to use the nails.”
“And if I had, then Lavana would have it.”
