I always thought faeries might be real. Father once exploded at a guard for letting Fern play too close to a patch of mushrooms in the gardens. At dinner that night, he warned us all to stay away from mushroom circles. Between us, we’ve read enough books about evil forest-dwelling faeries to figure out why.
But demons… I’ve read books where they’d turn to shadows and sneak into the bedchambers of unsuspecting maidens to eat their souls. But those were just stories. You can’t eat someone’s soul.
Then again, some of the nobles downstairs looked scary enough to.
“If you’re a demon, why don’t you look as scary as them?” I ask, trying not to let my stare linger on his jaw or soft coloured hair. “Actually, is that offensive to say to a demon?” Not that I’d care if it is, but now I’m curious. “Do demons want to be hideous?”
Tauren chokes on his drink. “Why would anyone want to be?—”
“Are horns beautiful to other demons? What about how big they are? Does size matter?” My lips part. “You don’t have any horns… is that a bad thing?”
His cheeks flush as dark as his wine. “Horn size means nothing,” he bites out.
“Are you sure?” I pout mockingly. “To be honest, the romance books I’ve read have always said that size doesn’t matter. It’s how you use it that counts. Then again, I suppose they weren’t speaking about horns…”
“Enough.” He bolts up from his chair.
I want to keep teasing him. His delicious food has settled in my belly, leaving me feeling warm all over. For a moment, I wonder if it would be so bad to stay here for a while. Escape can happen later. I’ll wait until my sisters miss me enough and beg for Father to bring me home. Eventually, he’ll come around. Eden will convince him, even if some of the girls are happy I’m gone.
But then a curtain of darkness ripples over Tauren before it slips away, and all thoughts of my sisters turn to ash.
His eyes have darkened to the colour of coal. His pale skin shimmers a little, as if dusted in gold. His features have sharpened, his jawline cutting enough to ruin any princess who dares wander too close.
And above it all, two black bull horns rise from his head.
My captor looks like a creature from a nightmare that, for some reason, I wouldn’t want to wake from.
“I do not take pleasure in frightening my guests.” His voice is different now – so deep it curls around my heart. “But since you’re finding enjoyment in provoking me, perhaps I have been too kind.”
“I—”
He turns to watch the fireplace, clasping his hands behind his back. “I captured you as part of a plot against your soon-to-be husband, Lord Elheart. He has stolen something from me, something I cannot live without. If he acts in the way we expect once he receives word of your capture, you will not be here for long. I suspect you’ll be on your way to your beloved’s palace by the end of the week at the latest.”
“Please don’t send me there,” I blurt. Tauren catches my gaze over his shoulder. “It’s just… I didn’t agree to the marriage before Father sent me away. I’d much rather you sent me home or better yet to Night Alley so I can live with my sister. She has a house there, with her?—”
“I do not care about your sister.” He turns from the fire to face me, his tall form blocking all the light. Oddly enough, I still feel warm. “And your impending marriage to Elheart is strictly between Elheart and your father.”
“I’m not going to marry him.” I stand up, but a wave of heat flushes over me and I fall back onto the chaise. My palm clutches at my chest. My heart is pounding. “What’s happening? Why do I feel like this?” When I look up at Tauren, he’s all blurry. This isn’t right.
“That’ll be the sedative I put in your food.”
“What?” I slur. “You said you didn’t poison?—”
“A sedative is not poison,” he corrects, but I can barely hear him now. My back slumps against the chaise, every breath feeling heavy. The last thing I feel is something leathery tightening around my neck and two strong arms beneath my body before the darkness swallows me whole.
8
DAHLIA
Iwake with a start in a bed that isn’t mine. Silky sheets pool beneath my palms, and something lacy bunches at my hips. I glance down to find I’m wearing a thin black nightgown, one I definitely don’t remember putting on.
I shudder. After eating that poisoned meal, I don’t remember anything. I don’t want to think about what might have happened while I slept, so instead I glare at my feet, furious that my pointe shoes have been stolen too. My bare feet slide against the empty bed.
Empty.
I whip my head around the room. My captor is nowhere to be seen. Unless he’s made himself invisible or is hiding under the ornate gothic bed – though I do swing my head over and check just to be sure (he is a monster, after all) – he must have left the tower.
Carefully, I slip out from the sheets and let my feet touch the wooden floor. His bedchamber looks the same as it did when I first arrived. A tall black wardrobe stands at one end, while matching dressers line the walls. Red curtains decorate the wall behind the bed, another set parting on the far side of the room toreveal an impressive arched window that looks out onto a thick blanket of cloud.
