When I try to pull from his grip, his blunt nails bite into my skin. “Let me go, Ronan.” I might as well be talking to the bloody cobblestones for all the attention he pays me. “I said?—”
He whirls on me, his blown-out pupils reflecting the fae lights strung above us. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I flinch at the venom in his tone. How dare he speak to me in such a vile way.
“I’ll not have my woman cavorting with some Unseelie bastard,” he grits through clenched teeth.
“I’m notyourwoman, and I think I’ve made that perfectly clear.” I wrench my hand, but still, he holds firm. “Let go of me.”
“After I brought you to meet the king and queen, you insist on making a mockery of me?”
“You’re making a mockery of yourself.”
His mouth opens to spew some other hateful remark, but then his head lifts and his eyes widen. I’ve never seen a ghost, but I imagine its complexion would match Ronan’s right now.
A deep voice washes over us, vibrating with barely contained rage. “If you want to keep your hand, I suggest you let the female go.”
Ronan drops me like I’m on fire, stumbling away from where not only Ever stands at my back, but also Maddox and Gryffin as well, hands on the hilts of their bone daggers and vicious smiles on their faces.
Those gathered in the square titter and gasp, retreating farther down the street.
Ever’s lips fall over his sharp teeth, and he looks down at me through solemn eyes. “Are you all right, Kerris?”
Besides the red mark on my wrist and my indignation: “I’m fine.”
“He never should have touched you without your permission.”
The others nod and then fold their hands behind their backs.
They’ve done the same thing every time, and I’ve never been able to figure out why. “Why do you always stand like that?”
“To show that we are not a threat to you,” Ever says, as if the explanation should be obvious.
While the meaning behind the gesture makes me feel all warm and gooey inside, those daggers and their hands aren’t the only weapons at their disposal. “What’s to stop you from biting me?”
His lips twitch, and he eases forward, his breath fanning against my cheek when he whispers against the shell of my ear, “If you would like me to bite you, I would prefer we did not have an audience.”
Holy heavens.
I think I might faint.
One of the men by the well whistles, and Maddox and Gryffin leave us to help unload the rest of the jugs.
Ever straightens, his sigh rife with regret. “I should get back to work.”
He’s not here for me. This is a coincidence.
No matter how many times I repeat the sentiment in my mind, it never feels true. I suppose there is one way to find out. “Why did you come to the festival?”
Ever looks past me to the emptying square. When his gaze returns, he cards a hand through his midnight hair. “I am not here for the festival,” he says slowly, and I do my best to hide my disappointment.
Of course, he didn’t come for me.
He’s here because his people need water to survive.
“I came to see your new dress,” he says, making a slow, deliberate perusal from my corset to my slippers and back again. And then he winks and walks away.
“Bloomin’ hell…” Nia murmurs.
