Page 185 of Blood of the Fairest

Eris snorts. "I hate that I just laughed at that. He's clearly eccentric."

I pin the Pied Piper with a look. "Do you mind, Butterfly Man? I'm kind of in a fight with a faerie to make him give you your freedom back."

His smile is cute as fuck again. "Ah, that. Apologies, do go on. I'll keep score."

Why is he so entertained by this? I turn my glare back to the tall, foreboding asshole next to him.

"Wrath. I'm not accepting this gift."

"You are horrifyingly ungrateful for someone who has now received three gifts from a faerie," he says darkly, that amber gaze searing me. "Insult my kindness one more time, and I shall curse that pallid child you've taken such a maternal interest in."

Just the idea of him hurting Snow White in any way fills me with rage. But I keep my mouth shut, because I don't doubt this jackass would actually do what he's threatening if I throw another random object at him.

His lips twitch. "Such protective wrath. At last, something to make you mind your sharp tongue."

Drop dead, fucker.

The piper's brows go up, and he glances at me. "It might be best to just accept me as a gift, Dot."

Dot? Is he calling me that because of my beauty mark?

I'll deal with the insane piper later. I address Malivant again, still seething.

"Fine. Leave the piper. I'll figure out a way to undo whatever you've done to him before I leave this world. Any last curveballs you want to throw at me before I head to the masquerade?"

His gaze dips. I immediately fold my arms again to give my tits a little extra coverage, since this chemise is way too silky and thin to stand around chatting in.

"As illogical as you are, even you must realize you cannot wear next to nothing amidst a horde of salacious mortal men. They appeared eager enough to devour you whole in the regalia you wore yesterday."

He thinks I would wear this fairytale world's equivalent of underwear to a party, yet he calls me illogical?

"I'm not taking fashion advice from someone with horns," I smile too sweetly.

The faerie is unimpressed. He glances at the bed again, his lips turning down before he vanishes abruptly.

The moment he's gone, I swear like a sailor and grab the golden letter opener from the guest room's desk. When I reach for the Pied Piper's hands to stabilize him and cut him free, he jumps a little, holding his hands away.

"Do I look like someone who goes around slashing handsome pipers? I'm just cutting you free," I grumble, cranky from the interaction with Malivant.

Not to mention, this thirst is fucking annoying. Every time I swallow, it's like dragging sandpaper up my windpipe.

When I grab the Pied Piper's hands and begin cutting through the bindings, he's far more serious than he was during that entire interaction. He studies me close up.

"You're touching me," he murmurs, his voice as soft as a butterfly's wing.

I pause and peer up into his fascinating eyes, trying to figure out why he's hung up on that. Then I grimace.

"Sorry. I should have asked before touching you at all. I just really, really hate when people are treated like objects—but here I am, doing shit without your consent. Just let me free your hands, and I won't touch you again." I finish cutting through the bindings and toss the letter opener onto the bed. "There. See? I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Must you, master?"

"Gah—what?" I pause on the way to the wardrobe. "Fuck no. Don't call me that."

He flashes a teasing smile. "What else should a gift call you?"

"For the last fucking time, you're not a gift. Now, I just have to ask: Are you always this…" I gesture at him vaguely before settling on, "offbeat, or did that damn faerie drug you?"

When he laughs, it's the most truly happy, melodious laugh I've ever heard. "Alas, no drugs."