Neither of those options were what I wanted.
I was the Deathless One. The Immortal Fae King, unafraid of anything, and yet my heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out all logic.
Shifting to my side, I lay next to her and pulled the blanket over us, trying to cover as much of ourselves as possible.
What do I say to her?Do I say anything?
Question after question racked my mind. I hadn't thought about this moment. I figured it would be easy. I had been with females before. This should be a simple thing.
Deirdre and I were married, but we weren’t friends, not even casual acquaintances. If she had the chance to kill me and I actually stayed dead, I believed she’d try it.
She kept her gaze on the ceiling, and I glanced up, almost thinking something was there, but then I realized she was focusing on the painting to keep her thoughts away from me.
The tall clock in the corner of my room chimed loudly, making her flinch.
I moved on top of her, and a slight muffled cry left her lips.
Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, I settled between her legs, sweat sliding down the back of my neck.
A floral perfume enveloped her. The sweet aroma of wildflowers made my heart beat even faster. “You smell nice.”
Her brow furrowed, and I instantly regretted saying something so foolish. King of the Fae and I was making childish compliments.
Once I was in a somewhat comfortable position, I put my arms on either side of her body, hovering over her.
From far away, her dark eyes almost seemed black, but this close they were a deep mahogany brown. Warm like the earth with tiny golden flecks. The star-shaped birthmark crossed onto the side of her nose, grazing it. The pinkish scar gave her a unique beauty, almost highlighting her full cheeks.
An urge to trace my finger along the edges came over me, but when she looked up at me, her mouth in a hard tight line, her brow narrowed, her gaze furious, I realized doing that would not be wise, especially while she wore the pixie dust.
She was angry, and rightfully so. When I had arrived at her home, I had not intended to kill anyone, but there is a reason you should not poke a dragon.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked, needing to say something to break the tension.
Instead of responding, she eyed me, the hate making me sweat even more.
Better do this quickly before she uses her magic to wrap the nearby flowers around my throat or…
Glancing at her wrist, I noticed she had, in fact, worn the pixie bracelet. She was smart enough not to try any of those dusts on me while the priests were in the room, but after, well, Iwouldn’t be angry if she tried to kill me. Even if she succeeded, by morning, I would be healed.
Not wanting to remember the last time I was killed, I focused on the human below me, attempting to forget the hate between us and forge something new.
Grabbing her leg, I lifted it to bring me closer to her, and when my hand touched her bare skin, the anger in her eyes shattered into complete brokenness.
I stilled, not wanting to move another inch.
Eyes wide with fear, tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, splashing my arms. Her gaze went back to the ceiling, and she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the sorrow so clearly etched on her face. There was no scream or hateful words and somehow that made it much worse.
Though she did her best to control the fear, her body trembled beneath mine.
No, I may be the villain in our story, but I willnotbecome the monster.
A sudden need to protect my little thorn rushed out of me in powerful waves. Massive shadow wings grew from my back, encasing Deirdre, and I in a cocoon of darkness, blocking out our audience.
“Your Highness!” one of the priests bellowed.
Deirdre went rigid below me and gripped my arms, her nails digging into my flesh, her chest heaving against mine.
“Everybody out,” I ordered, my voice a low growl.
