Cold and cruel.
As brutal as the winter winds he commands.
He presses a hand to his chest and grimaces like he’s in pain. Then he rises to his feet, still holding the bottle of whiskey. He walks to the sideboard and sets the bottle down. His expression is troubled.
“Fucking Alaric,” he murmurs before turning to face me.
My breath catches in my throat at the intense look he’s directed my way. I’m no fool. I know desire when I see it, and it’s right there, a blazing spark of lust that sends a jolt of fear through me.
I quickly remind myself of his promise not to violate me, as well as his aversion to lies. I watch him carefully for any sign that he plans to go back on his word, but he simply stands there, staring at me with lust in his eyes.
“You are the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen,” he blurts. He appears mildly startled the moment he stops speaking, as though he didn’t quite mean to say it aloud.
My heart thunders in my chest.
“Thank you, King Theron,” I eventually murmur, my mind still reeling from his shocking words, the compliment he didn’t mean to say aloud. I twist my fingers together in my lap, fidgeting awkwardly, uncertain what to do with my nervous energy.
He pushes away from the sideboard and comes closer.
I lean back in my chair, trying to put as much distance between us as possible without actually fleeing to the other side of the room. If I’m going to belong to him forever, I must get used to being close to him.
To my utter surprise, he steps directly in front of me and cups my face in one large, cold hand. I shiver, though not from the cold. The coldness he emanates doesn’t bother me, just like the cold weather rarely bothers me. I shiver becauseoh, my god, he’s touching me again.
“Say it again, Helena.” His deep voice vibrates through me, prompting a rapid spasm of heat between my thighs.
Oh no. Surely that didn’t just happen. Surely, I’m mistaken. There is absolutely no way I could feel any sort of attraction to the fierce and cruel Winter King, to a male who is responsible for the deaths of thousands of my people.
“Thank you, KingTheron,” I murmur again, instinctively putting an emphasis on his name, because I think that’s what he truly wants. He wants to hear me sayhis nameagain.
A low growl resounds from his chest, a noise that’s otherworldlyandanimalistic. It shudders through me, hot and cold and tingling, a sensation that nearly causes me to squirm in my seat. Oh, dear gods, what is happening to me? Is he… glamouring me? Is he purposely trying to make me desire him?
He’d promised not to force himself on me, but he’d said nothing about glamours. Warning bells peal in my head. Mama always said the fae could be devious. She always said never to trust them.
I stiffen and try to focus on King Theron’s wickedness. His cruelty and his disregard for human life. He’d enjoyed the battle. He’d liked killing humans, and he’d savored the scent of human blood. He’d admitted as much to me earlier.
Thankfully, the aching in my core starts to abate.
But he’s still cupping my face, and he’s still standing so very close, staring down at me with a strangely affectionate look that I don’t understand. Doesn’t he have a mate? Or a concubine? One would think the Winter King would have a female already waiting for him somewhere. Or perhaps a whole harem of women. What could he possibly want with me?
“I must return to the banquet hall.” He lets go of my face, steps back, and summons what can only be described as hiscruel Winter King face. “I will return in a few hours.”
I nod, unable to find my voice.
He gives me one last look, then spins on his heel and strides toward the door. But he pauses halfway and turns back around. My heart races as I consider why he stopped. Maybe… maybe he wants to torment me for a while before he leaves. Despite the king’s promises, his brother’s words come back to taunt me.
I hope you enjoy her. I daresay the rest of us will enjoy hearing her screams and smelling her blood.
But to my surprise, King Theron approaches the hearth, then kneels to stack wood and kindling inside. Is he doing what I think he’s doing? I hold my breath, still stunned by his actions, as he strikes a match and carefully lights the kindling. Using a metal rod, he prods the fire until the flames grow larger, finally catching on the wood.
He rises to his feet and meets my eye. “For your comfort, darling human.”
Then he turns before I can offer a response. He strides for the door again, and it opens under a quick blast of wind. It promptly blows shut behind him.
The moment I’m alone, I release a long breath and brush away a few fresh tears. This time, my tears are borne of relief rather than fear or anguish. I’m simply so stunned and relieved that I’m still alive. Not only that, but the Winter King didn’t harm a hair on my head.
I rise to my feet and head for the door. I can’t help myself. I have to try it. Just to see if I’m locked inside.
To my dismay, the handle won’t turn at all, and every time I touch it, frost creeps up my fingers.
