Page 167 of Blood of the Fairest

Plus, he is Cinderella's prince, so logically he might still lead me to her.

Oh, fuck. This means I made out with Cinderella's soon-to-be-husband. I may need to apologize to her for that after they hit it off.

I take his hand with a tight smile. "Sure thing, Prince Charming."

Queen Gisela looks over the moon as her heartthrob of a son guides me toward the other dancers. He stops short, though, maintaining some distance around us as the orchestral music winds through the air.

I've gone to dances in my world, but for a split second, I realize I may have no idea what dancing should be like here.

Luckily, Prince Konrad sets one of my hands on his shoulder and keeps the other in his hand, beginning something like a waltz. It's not difficult to keep up, with the way he's leading.

We have an uncomfortable amount of onlookers, but at least we can't be overheard as I smile too sweetly up at him.

"So, you're a royal dick."

He laughs. "Maybe I am, but I didn't mean to catch you by surprise."

"Except you did. Otherwise, you would have told me I was rolling around in the hay with a prince yesterday."

"I think we should stick to the word romping."

I tamp down a smile. "Don't you dare use inside jokes to make me like you right now. What exactly did you tell your mother about us meeting?"

The prince spins me away, pulling me back much closer than before to murmur near my ear. The brush of his breath against my cheek makes my stomach somersault.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell her about those teeth of yours teasing my neck or that you kissed me senseless. I told her next to nothing, actually—just that we met and I'm smitten with you."

I pull back to gawk at him. "What? You are not."

"I am."

"But you can't be."

Prince Konrad tilts his head. "Why not?"

"Because…" I guess I can't say we're literally at the ball where he's going to meet his future bride, so I finish lamely with, "I'm too old for you."

He snorts. "I'm twenty-four. That's old enough to know a half-baked excuse when I hear one."

"Fine, then I'm from out of town. Way, way out of town."

This infuriatingly attractive guy just shrugs, guiding me through more dance steps. "Oh, that. I hear that despite the rough winters, your kingdom is lovely. I'm truthfully quite sick of Aurefeld, so I'm more than happy to move to Isenmere to become one of your Favored."

What?

Holy shit, Prince Charming really goes all in fast.

"God, not this again," I groan. "Look, I'm flattered—but I don't have Favored anymore."

"Don't you?" he frowns. "I heard that you arrived with a northerner who seems enamored with you. If he's one of your lovers, just have him show me what you like in bed. I promise I'm a fast learner."

That makes me stop in my tracks, halting our dance to gawk up at him. I wait for the punchline, but he's dead fucking serious.

For some reason, that gives my depraved libido way too many ideas.

"You want Wulf to give you pointers on what I like in bed?" I repeat, wondering if maybe when he hears the words coming out of my mouth, he'll realize how fucking insane it sounds.

Hot, yes—but insane.